standing, howling, holding a bleeding hand crushed against her potbelly.
I ascertained that I wasn’t going to be killed by Tansan for having let her daughter amputate one of her own fin gers; then I stanched the flow of Savga’s cut with a rippedoff portion of my bitoo. Once soothed, Savga sat in the dust nursing her hand and regaled me with a grisly story some one called Tiwana-auntie had told her, about a girl with no hands; I resigned myself to chopping up the dried dramda can as night settled around us.
That was how Tansan found us. First I knew of her pres ence was when Savga leapt to her feet with a gasp.
“Mama!”
I turned—too quickly—from where I was squatted and fell to my rump with a painful cry. Tansan stood above me, her long legs braced, her hands knuckled on her hips.
“Mama, I had to come back, I really had to, I couldn’t leave my foremost friend here all alone with the dark com ing—”
“Enough.” Tansan held up a hand and Savga promptly fell silent. “You know the dangers of walking alone. Get the switch—”
She looked away from Savga sharply, and stared across the compound. I followed her gaze. For a moment I thought Tansan was staring at the white central dome of the Tem ple, located to the south of the arbiyesku, in the center of the Clutch. But then a strange silhouette cut itself from the dark and came lurching toward us.
“Go inside the barracks, Savga.” The urgency in Tansan’s tone made me instantly anxious.
“Don’t let them take my foremost friend, Mama,” Savga whispered.
“Get in the barracks. Now.”
“Promise?”
“Savga . . .”
“Promise?”
“Savga!”
“Mama, you have to promise—”
“Yes. Now go.”
Savga melted into the dark. I clambered to my feet.
It was a rickshaw, that shadow, pulled by a sinewy Djimbi man who came to a wheezing stop a short distance before us. Seated in the rickshaw were two lordlings, their silk shirts sloppily unlaced, their pomaded hair tousled. I could smell the maska spirits on their breath from where I stood.
One of the lordlings flicked a hand that was studded with turquoise rings. “Bring out all the women! Bring ’em all out!”
“We’re alone, Bayen Hacros.” Tansan said the honorific First Lord Dominant as if it were a curse. “The arbiyesku is delivering fodder to the brooder stables.”
The two men exchanged bleary looks; then one lord lurched to his feet. The rickshaw creaked and swayed and he almost lost his balance. He planted one hand atop his com panion’s head to steady himself and placed the other on the hilt of the turquoise-studded dagger at his waist.
“Are you lying to us, rishi whore? You know what I do to liars?”
“As is your right, you are welcome to examine every hut and building here, Bayen Hacros,” Tansan said coldly, and she gestured at the mud-brick domiciles in the com pound, her arm gliding smoothly through the air.
The movement, combined with the lift of her chin and the inhalation of her breath, drew the men’s eyes to her chest. It had been, I realized, a calculated move.
Their eyes simultaneously raked over her.
“Think we’ve found us a suitable whore, Neme,” the seated one slurred.
“We’ll take the both of ’em, by dragon.” The standing one’s voice had turned thick.
Tansan took a step forward. “I’ll do. You don’t need her as well.”
I began to suspect what was transpiring and stared at Tansan, appalled. “You can’t—”
She turned and looked at me. I took a step back from the intensity on her face, the muted rage.
“I promised Savga,” she hissed.
“I won’t let you keep that promise.”
“That’s not your decision to make.”
“I’ve already made it.”
We stared at each other, neither of us looking at the lordlings making quips in the rickshaw about whores fight ing over the privilege of servicing bayen cocks.
“Both of you come, and that’s an order!” one of them bawled. “There’s more than enough for the two of you!”
Tansan gave a
I ascertained that I wasn’t going to be killed by Tansan for having let her daughter amputate one of her own fin gers; then I stanched the flow of Savga’s cut with a rippedoff portion of my bitoo. Once soothed, Savga sat in the dust nursing her hand and regaled me with a grisly story some one called Tiwana-auntie had told her, about a girl with no hands; I resigned myself to chopping up the dried dramda can as night settled around us.
That was how Tansan found us. First I knew of her pres ence was when Savga leapt to her feet with a gasp.
“Mama!”
I turned—too quickly—from where I was squatted and fell to my rump with a painful cry. Tansan stood above me, her long legs braced, her hands knuckled on her hips.
“Mama, I had to come back, I really had to, I couldn’t leave my foremost friend here all alone with the dark com ing—”
“Enough.” Tansan held up a hand and Savga promptly fell silent. “You know the dangers of walking alone. Get the switch—”
She looked away from Savga sharply, and stared across the compound. I followed her gaze. For a moment I thought Tansan was staring at the white central dome of the Tem ple, located to the south of the arbiyesku, in the center of the Clutch. But then a strange silhouette cut itself from the dark and came lurching toward us.
“Go inside the barracks, Savga.” The urgency in Tansan’s tone made me instantly anxious.
“Don’t let them take my foremost friend, Mama,” Savga whispered.
“Get in the barracks. Now.”
“Promise?”
“Savga . . .”
“Promise?”
“Savga!”
“Mama, you have to promise—”
“Yes. Now go.”
Savga melted into the dark. I clambered to my feet.
It was a rickshaw, that shadow, pulled by a sinewy Djimbi man who came to a wheezing stop a short distance before us. Seated in the rickshaw were two lordlings, their silk shirts sloppily unlaced, their pomaded hair tousled. I could smell the maska spirits on their breath from where I stood.
One of the lordlings flicked a hand that was studded with turquoise rings. “Bring out all the women! Bring ’em all out!”
“We’re alone, Bayen Hacros.” Tansan said the honorific First Lord Dominant as if it were a curse. “The arbiyesku is delivering fodder to the brooder stables.”
The two men exchanged bleary looks; then one lord lurched to his feet. The rickshaw creaked and swayed and he almost lost his balance. He planted one hand atop his com panion’s head to steady himself and placed the other on the hilt of the turquoise-studded dagger at his waist.
“Are you lying to us, rishi whore? You know what I do to liars?”
“As is your right, you are welcome to examine every hut and building here, Bayen Hacros,” Tansan said coldly, and she gestured at the mud-brick domiciles in the com pound, her arm gliding smoothly through the air.
The movement, combined with the lift of her chin and the inhalation of her breath, drew the men’s eyes to her chest. It had been, I realized, a calculated move.
Their eyes simultaneously raked over her.
“Think we’ve found us a suitable whore, Neme,” the seated one slurred.
“We’ll take the both of ’em, by dragon.” The standing one’s voice had turned thick.
Tansan took a step forward. “I’ll do. You don’t need her as well.”
I began to suspect what was transpiring and stared at Tansan, appalled. “You can’t—”
She turned and looked at me. I took a step back from the intensity on her face, the muted rage.
“I promised Savga,” she hissed.
“I won’t let you keep that promise.”
“That’s not your decision to make.”
“I’ve already made it.”
We stared at each other, neither of us looking at the lordlings making quips in the rickshaw about whores fight ing over the privilege of servicing bayen cocks.
“Both of you come, and that’s an order!” one of them bawled. “There’s more than enough for the two of you!”
Tansan gave a
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