On by Adam Roberts

at him she would probably have done so by now. He wiped the spatula and put it away and then came over and gave his pashe a kiss. She turned her cheek as he walked over with a strange something in her expression, but she accepted the kiss.
    A little unsettled, Tighe took up the bread and cheese and ate it in large mouthfuls. He wanted to say something, to draw pashe out of her motionless silent watching, but he didn’t know what to say. He looked around, hoping his pahe was somewhere in the house, but he clearly wasn’t.
    ‘I went by market shelf,’ he said, at last, his words sounding clumsy and loud after the quiet. ‘They’ve built the pyre.’ Silence. He finished the bread and wiped his hands on his shirt. ‘It looks handsomely done.’
    A fluttery smile had come to her lips. His heart lurched. What did that mean?
    ‘You’re a good boy-boy,’ she said, in a distant voice. The smile was a full smile now and she held out one hand towards him. Feeling more than a little sheepish. Tighe went towards her and was received into a desultory one-armed hug. Then he broke away and slouched about the room as he spoke.
    ‘It was strange to see Grandhe so upset,’ he said. ‘I don’t recall ever having seen him so upset by anything.’
    Pashe was leaning against the wall by the doorway into her bedroom. ‘You know your Grandhe,’ she said. There was a floaty, disconcerting edge to her voice. Tighe found himself getting wound up inside, like one of Akathe’s clockwork devices.
    ‘I guess. I remember another ceremony of burning, I must have been three, not yet three. I remember that, though, and Grandhe seemed almost pleased to be able to do it. I remember all his preaching.’ He stopped speaking and stopped his slouching. Pashe was following him with her eyes without turning her head.
    ‘I don’t recall ever having seen Grandhe so upset by anything,’ Tighe said again. ‘I guess he and Konstakhe had been pretty close friends, had they?’
    The merest contraction of her eyelids, but pashe didn’t say anything.
    ‘It must be terrible to lose somebody you’re really close to.’ Tighe’s own voice sounded strange in his head. It was the silence. But he couldn’t stop talking. ‘I heard in the village that there was some story about Grandhe and Konstakhe, but I never heard that before.’ As soon as he had said it, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. He stopped, his heart faster, wonderingif he had spoken the spell that would summon up the angry pashe. Poised. But she hadn’t moved, her expression hadn’t changed, except perhaps for the faintest tightening around her nostrils. Tighe was breathing shallowly.
    ‘Anyway, I guess I’ll go along to the ceremony and hear Grandhe preaching,’ he said, hurriedly. ‘Will you go there? Will pahe be there?’
    Pashe’s hand went up to her mouth, her fingers’ ends touching her upper lip. ‘Will I go?’ she said. She was standing straight now. ‘Will I go to the ceremony? Will your pahe? Do you know where your pahe is? Do you
know
where he is?’
    Heat was building in her words. Tighe felt sickness in his own belly. He had got her angry after all and now there was nothing he could do except stand there and watch whilst her rage built itself and built itself until it exploded. His eyes and mouth were equally open, frozen, a horrified look. ‘Do you know where your pahe is? Shall I tell you? Whilst you
maunder
around the village like a goat lost on a crag, your pahe has been
working
on the higher ledges. Have you
forgotten
already that we lost a goat days ago – a whole goat? Is that how
selfish
you have become? Don’t you know what that means, in terms of the extra work your pahe and I have to do now?’ Her voice was loud now, her hand clenching to a fist before her face with each emphasis. But Tighe could only stand there and watch. ‘Do you assume everybody is as idle and worthless as you are? Is
that
what you assume? People have work to do – not you,