close them. More heat soared through Qiom’s heart. Stooping, he grabbed a rock as he ran; straightening, he threw it hard and fast. It missed the guard’s head by an inch. The man fled.
Qiom ran through the gates and down the road, past travelers and fields, into the shelter of the forest. Only when they neither saw nor heard more humans did he look for aplace to stop. He followed a game trail through dense brush for over a mile, until he found open space on the bank of a stream. Gently he lowered Fadal to the ground. He undid his sash, dipped it in the cold water, and carefully placed it against the worst bruises on her face.
Fadal said nothing as he cleaned blood and dirt away, but her eyes moved over his face. At last she stood and waded into the cold water, wincing. The center of the stream was deep enough that she could sit and be covered to her chin. She even ducked her head a number of times, her teeth chattering as she rinsed.
Qiom opened the pack. She had extra clothes. He shook them out: trousers, breechclout, kaftan, and another long band of linen for her breasts. She would need that until they were free of the fire god and his Oracle.
As she dressed, Qiom rolled up his trousers, removed his shoes, and put his feet in the stream. If she had nothing to say, he did. The night he’d learned Fadal’s secret, he’d told Numair about her. The mage had made an offer for them both, one that Qiom had not cared about before. The morning’s events had changed his mind about that.
“Numair says, if we go east to the sea and take a ship, we will come to his land. There many women are unveiled; they have respect and rights. He says, if we come, he will help us, because it is his fault I am a man.”
Fadal was shivering still, despite her dry clothes. She crouched beside Qiom. “I thought you only cared for other trees,” she commented, hoarse voiced.
“So did I,” Qiom said, looking at his rootless feet in the water. “But you are my friend. I care for you, Fadal.” Hesighed. “I suppose I am human now.” He pulled his feet from the stream and rose. “It is a long walk to the sea. We should go.”
Fadal stood and held out her hand. “I have only lied to you once,” she said quietly. “My name is Fadala, Elder Brother.” She grinned. “The next thing you know, you’ll learn to start fires.”
Qiom shuddered and began to pack their things.
T HE H IDDEN G IRL
It was late in the summer when my father brought me to the house of my aunt and uncle in the town of Hartunjur. I was relieved to be with them, because my aunt was my father’s older sister. The moment she heard his deep, racking cough, she summoned a healer and ordered my father to submit to his care. I had begged him to do so for weeks, but a daughter’s word did not have the weight of an older sister’s, even if that daughter did his reading to make up for his fading vision.
That evening, as the healer examined my father, the innkeeper next door gave two strangers permission to sleep in his loft. Helping my aunt and cousins to prepare our supper, I learned the young man, Fadal, was handsome, if beardless, and quite funny. His companion, Qiom, was very tall and dark, with an odd, slow way of speaking.
“As if,” said my aunt, “he had only recently learned to talk.”
I told this to my father as I brought his supper to him. Father shook his head. “Have you women nothing more to do than gossip about men?” he asked.
He looked weary and sad. I answered in the voice I hadperfected for his amusement, that of my grandmother, Omi Heza. “Why should we not, whippersnapper?” I asked, surprising a smile from him. “In the Book of the Distaff it says that a woman’s greatest weapon is her reason, and her greatest shield is her knowledge.…”
Father shook his head. “The temple priests are in the right of it after all, and the first error lies in teaching women to read,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “And your mother and I made
Qiom ran through the gates and down the road, past travelers and fields, into the shelter of the forest. Only when they neither saw nor heard more humans did he look for aplace to stop. He followed a game trail through dense brush for over a mile, until he found open space on the bank of a stream. Gently he lowered Fadal to the ground. He undid his sash, dipped it in the cold water, and carefully placed it against the worst bruises on her face.
Fadal said nothing as he cleaned blood and dirt away, but her eyes moved over his face. At last she stood and waded into the cold water, wincing. The center of the stream was deep enough that she could sit and be covered to her chin. She even ducked her head a number of times, her teeth chattering as she rinsed.
Qiom opened the pack. She had extra clothes. He shook them out: trousers, breechclout, kaftan, and another long band of linen for her breasts. She would need that until they were free of the fire god and his Oracle.
As she dressed, Qiom rolled up his trousers, removed his shoes, and put his feet in the stream. If she had nothing to say, he did. The night he’d learned Fadal’s secret, he’d told Numair about her. The mage had made an offer for them both, one that Qiom had not cared about before. The morning’s events had changed his mind about that.
“Numair says, if we go east to the sea and take a ship, we will come to his land. There many women are unveiled; they have respect and rights. He says, if we come, he will help us, because it is his fault I am a man.”
Fadal was shivering still, despite her dry clothes. She crouched beside Qiom. “I thought you only cared for other trees,” she commented, hoarse voiced.
“So did I,” Qiom said, looking at his rootless feet in the water. “But you are my friend. I care for you, Fadal.” Hesighed. “I suppose I am human now.” He pulled his feet from the stream and rose. “It is a long walk to the sea. We should go.”
Fadal stood and held out her hand. “I have only lied to you once,” she said quietly. “My name is Fadala, Elder Brother.” She grinned. “The next thing you know, you’ll learn to start fires.”
Qiom shuddered and began to pack their things.
T HE H IDDEN G IRL
It was late in the summer when my father brought me to the house of my aunt and uncle in the town of Hartunjur. I was relieved to be with them, because my aunt was my father’s older sister. The moment she heard his deep, racking cough, she summoned a healer and ordered my father to submit to his care. I had begged him to do so for weeks, but a daughter’s word did not have the weight of an older sister’s, even if that daughter did his reading to make up for his fading vision.
That evening, as the healer examined my father, the innkeeper next door gave two strangers permission to sleep in his loft. Helping my aunt and cousins to prepare our supper, I learned the young man, Fadal, was handsome, if beardless, and quite funny. His companion, Qiom, was very tall and dark, with an odd, slow way of speaking.
“As if,” said my aunt, “he had only recently learned to talk.”
I told this to my father as I brought his supper to him. Father shook his head. “Have you women nothing more to do than gossip about men?” he asked.
He looked weary and sad. I answered in the voice I hadperfected for his amusement, that of my grandmother, Omi Heza. “Why should we not, whippersnapper?” I asked, surprising a smile from him. “In the Book of the Distaff it says that a woman’s greatest weapon is her reason, and her greatest shield is her knowledge.…”
Father shook his head. “The temple priests are in the right of it after all, and the first error lies in teaching women to read,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “And your mother and I made
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