Finally the Histories had been sung. The child sat droopy-eyed while they undressed her, gave her a perfunctory clean with a wet rag and put her to bed in the middle of the furs. Then they laid down their work and looked expectantly at Tiaan. Evidently she had to sing for her supper.
Had she been asked to sing at the manufactory, Tiaan would have been so mortified that she could not have made a single note. But these people did not know her, they would never see her again, and besides, she owed them for the food, shelter and kindness.
She had not sung since she was a child in the breeding factory. A nursery rhyme popped into her head, a cautionary tale about a frog and a butterfly. She sang it in a hoarse, scratchy voice, not well at all, though Haani seemed to like it.
When she finished, Lyssa put her finger across Tiaan’s lips, went to the fire and began stirring some kind of aromatic balm into a mug. It had a lemony, minty aroma. She squeezed in honey from a red-black comb and passed it to Tiaan with a smile.
Tiaan sipped from the mug, which eased her dry throat, and began to hum another tune. She made up the words as she sang. It was to the father she had never known and could not know. He must have died in the war, else he would have come back for her.
The sad song ended. Her eyes were moist. Again they clapped, and the child settled in bed. Only then did Tiaan raise the topic that was preoccupying her.
‘The river is frozen. How can I get to the sea?’
‘Fro-sshen?’ said Jiini, the quietest of the three.
It took a lot of sign language to convey Tiaan’s meaning, and then not very well. She had to take them outside, point to the river and try to sign that it was blocked by the ice. ‘Sea’ she could not convey at all.
The great southern inland sea was nearly three hundred leagues long. The smaller, western end was called Milmillamel. What was the larger? It took ages to call a map of Lauralin, like a blueprint seen long ago, into her mind.
‘Tallallamel,’ she said. ‘I go to Tallallamel.’
‘Ah!’ said Lyssa. ‘Tiaan go Tallallamel Myr.’
They grinned and chattered among themselves, then Fluuni said, speaking slowly and distinctly, ‘Tiaan must leave boat. Tiaan shee.’ She corrected herself, ‘Tiaan skee river, ya?’
‘Ski down the river to Tallallamel?’
‘Ya, ya!’ said the three women, nodding vigorously. ‘Skee to Ghysmel, ya.’
Tiaan presumed Ghysmel was a city on the coast. ‘How far is that?’ Blank looks. ‘How many sleeps to Ghysmel?’
Jiini held up six fingers. ‘Nya!’ said Lyssa, pushing her sister’s hand down and holding up eight fingers. Fluuni nodded vigorously.
Eight days of skiing. That wasn’t so bad; Tiaan was an accomplished skier. That was how they got around in winter, at the manufactory. Skiing all day might test her out though.
Having established that money was foreign to them, Tiaan was at a loss how to proceed. However, after some hard work she bartered her leather boat for a pair of skis and food. No doubt they already had a boat, though Fluuni’s eyes lit up as soon as Tiaan made the offer. The leather was soft but strong, much more valuable than a pair of skis, which were easily carved in a few evenings.
They insisted on filling her pack with food – bundles of stiff dried fish, dried meat, a comb of honey, a round of cheese probably made from deer milk, a string of onions and much more. She had to stop them – there was more than she could carry.
It was late. The women crawled into the nest of furs, with the child in the middle. Fluuni indicated the space nearest the fire. Tiaan was soon asleep.
Her dreams were pleasant ones, for once. These strangers, whom Tiaan had known for only a day, felt closer and more caring than anyone she knew. It was like lying in her mother’s bed as a child.
Tiaan woke in the night and thought she was back with Marnie. Turning over, disoriented, her outflung arm struck the pack. The fire had died down and the hut was absolutely dark. It made her feel claustrophobic.
Tiaan felt inside the pack, wanting a glimmer of light to break the confined feeling. As she touched the amplimet it lit up and a shock raced along her arm. The pack glowed garnet-red for an instant. What had happened? It had not done that before. Recalling how the soldiers had seemed to be able to track her, she felt a moment of unease.
But that had been a long time ago, and at least a hundred leagues away. Could they have tracked her to Kalissin? It did not seem possible, but the lyrinx were within easy flying distance.
Her heart was racing. Tiaan crawled to the entrance. It was still dark outside. She settled down again. She’d go at dawn and hope it snowed to cover her tracks.
Tiaan groaned aloud. Fluuni rolled over and put an arm about her waist. It would have been comforting, had not her problems been so insoluble. Tiaan lay awake the rest of the night, twice slipping out of bed and lifting the flap. The second time the sky was pale in the east.
She was tying her boots into the ski bindings when Jiini came out. She went into the forest to relieve herself, then helped Tiaan with the adjustments. Shortly Fluuni, Lyssa and Haani emerged. No doubt they always rose with the light.
When Tiaan went in for her pack the cauldron was over the fire. She took a large bowl of fish stew, then gave thanks to the women, who each embraced her. She shook hands with Haani, who smiled shyly. Tiaan donned her pack and skied towards the river, the four watching how she went and laughing – no doubt commenting on her strange style. She turned to ski along the bank, waved and pushed off, settling into the striding rhythm.
It was hard work for muscles that had not skied in months and she stopped as the ice came in sight. She must not pull a muscle and cripple herself.
Sitting on her coat on a tree trunk just above the ice and, watching a pair of deer grazing on lichen, she was startled by a high-pitched, keening cry coming faint down the river. Some chance reflection off the water must have carried it to her. Tiaan recognised it instantly. The nylatl!
FORTY-NINE
Tiaan’s first impulse was to flee. She could easily outrun it on skis. But the women and child would have no chance if it attacked.
Was it hunting her, or the amplimet? Tiaan had noted the look in its eyes when it had seen the crystal. Taking out the blade, hopeless weapon though it was, she headed back. It took all the courage she had.
Tiaan refused to think about that. If she had, she would never have been able to continue. The nylatl could be on the other side of the river, hunting a deer or a rabbit. If it was hunting her, going to the hut might lead it to them. She stopped halfway, not knowing what to do. Then she heard the scream.
It was a woman’s scream, shrill and cracked at the end. A cry of agony, for herself or for someone she loved. The nylatl must be there, at the hut.
She skied back as fast as she had ever gone. As she went, Tiaan tested the blade with her thumb. It was viciously sharp. A violent, bloody rage grew in her. If the nylatl had hurt them she would rejoice as she carved it open.
No further cry came. She heard nothing but the pounding of her heart and a roaring in her ears. This time she saw no living thing along the river. It was as if the entire world had gone into hiding.
Her knees felt soft by the time she curved around the river bank, shot through a straggly patch of pines and came out in a clearing. The hut was visible beyond the next patch of trees. All looked just as it had been before. She pressed on but saw no one.
‘Fluuni?’ she said softly. ‘Jiini? Lyssa?’