Haani tied her boots into the bindings of the small skis. One boot was badly worn. Tiaan hacked a piece of leather from the bottom of the boat, added it to her overloaded pack, tied on her skis and, taking Haani’s hand, set off down the river bank without looking back. Only much later did she realise that the child had not said goodbye to Jiini, her mother.
Not far away, the nylatl had found a burrow going down into the river bank, then up to a secure, dry and relatively warm home. A duck-billed creature dwelt inside. The nylatl had no trouble with it, or its helpless young.
When sated it curled up in the warmest spot and went into hibernation. It had many injuries to repair and that would take time. And when it finally woke, it would go on the hunt. The black-haired woman and the terrible, tantalising crystal could not hide. Wherever she took it, the nylatl would hunt it down. And then it would make the woman suffer for the torment of its existence.
FIFTY
The child said not a word that day, which was the most tragic part of the whole terrible affair. Haani skied to one side of Tiaan, or ahead, as if she wanted to get as far away as possible. She was an accomplished skier, better than Tiaan in these conditions. Her small round face, as pale as the snow, showed nothing but an icy bleakness. Tiaan felt culpable. She’d led the nylatl to them. If not for her, the creature would not exist. If not for her, their lives would never have been touched.
Her shin was excruciatingly painful but had not bled much, so she’d left it untreated. Getting well away, beyond the nylatl’s reach, was more important. They went by a number of villages, at the first of which children were carrying water from a hole cut in the ice. Tiaan had not thought about that problem, but of course water would be hard won here in winter unless they had a well that did not freeze. The children stared but did not wave. Haani did not even look at them, just shushed past with Tiaan following in her tracks.
In the middle of the day she called out to Haani, skied off the river, sidestepped up a steep bank and settled on a log. The child followed, skiing round and round. Tiaan suspected that, had she not called, Haani would have kept going straight down the river until she dropped.
Tiaan was ready to drop right now. Her leg muscles had gone wobbly. Taking off the skis, she massaged her thighs. It did not help. She felt weak and shivery. Not cold, for the day was mild and her exertions had made her sweat, but shuddering inside from the horror of the morning. The tragedy came directly from her aiding the enemy, and all the self-justification in the world, all the ‘they made me do it’, could make no difference. If only, she kept thinking. If only…
That was futile. Taking out a piece of fatty dried meat she began to cut slices from it. The meat resisted her blade, and only at the end did Tiaan realise that the child was still skiing round the log. Tiaan watched Haani go over a hump, down into a hollow where bare yellow twigs stuck out of the snow, between two trees that leaned towards each other to make an arch, across a smooth patch of snow and back over the hump. Her jaw was set; she kept doing the same movements over and again, but her mind was not there at all. It was back in the cabin with the dead women, and the nylatl.
‘Haani?’ Tiaan called. The child did not react. She called more loudly. Nothing. Tiaan stood up, shouting, ‘Haani, come here!’
Haani jerked, gave her a vacant glare, but skied across to the log. Tiaan patted the space beside her. ‘Sit down. Eat your lunch.’
She knew that the child understood a little of her language, though maybe not very much. Haani went to the end of the log, took off her pack and began nibbling on a piece of dried fish, staring into the emptiness between the trees. Tiaan had no idea what to do. She could hardly blame the child. It was a wonder she did not lie down and refuse to get up, or have a screaming fit. Perhaps it would be better if she did.
Tiaan ate her strips of leathery meat. After a lot of chewing, they released an overpoweringly strong flavour, like the smell of a male Hürn bear in the mating season. The taste did not appeal.
She washed the meat down with a swallow from her flask. ‘Ready?’ she said to the staring child.
Haani made not a sound but rose at once, tightened the bindings and put on her pack. Clearly she was used to travelling, and doing what she was told.
As she rose, Tiaan felt a stabbing ache in her calf and a cry of pain slipped out. Haani, who was already heading off, spun around on her skis. Perhaps she thought the nylatl was coming back.
Tiaan drew up her trouser leg, which was matted with blood. Her sock was stuck to the wound. It would have to wait until tonight.
As Tiaan struggled onto her skis, Haani glowered at her, sprang in the air, came down with her skis facing the other way and headed off at a pace Tiaan could not match. Perhaps she blamed Tiaan for not being killed, or taking on the role of her mother. Or the whole disaster.
Well, she was right to. Tiaan was to blame. And what was she supposed to do with an eight-year-old who had no relative left in the world? “Tiaan iss Haani’s mother now,” Fluuni had said. Tiaan had no idea how to be a mother to an eight-year-old, and there was no one she could model herself on. Most of the indentured children at the manufactory had families but she had not been to their homes. She had no idea what a home or a proper family was like. The only homes she’d been in were Joeyn’s and the three women’s. All dead because of her.
Haani was almost out of sight, skiing fast down the smooth ice and never looking back. Tiaan was about to yell at her but thought better of it. She increased her pace, pushing herself as fast as her injury would allow and knowing she would suffer tomorrow.
Around four in the afternoon, when the short day was rapidly closing, Tiaan skied around a bend in the river and saw Haani standing on the other side, staring into the forest. Tiaan stopped beside her.
‘Time to find a camp, eh?’
The child sidestepped up the low bank and glided over soft snow into the trees. A few snowflakes drifted down. Tiaan went after her. It took an effort to climb the bank.
Haani’s skis had left twin paths through the pristine white. Tiaan pushed through the silent forest and down into a dip with an arc of trees around it. The child was taking her pack off. It was a good campsite – sheltered, plenty of firewood nearby, yet cleared land around so they could keep watch. The child was an experienced traveller, a necessary survival skill in these parts.
They built a fire on branches piled against a fallen log. Haani went about the camp chores silently: gathering wood, putting up the tent, filling the pot with packed snow. Tiaan prepared dinner.
Later, Haani sat across from the fire, staring at the flames unblinking. What was going on in the child’s mind? Tiaan had seen no tears. Maybe she had blocked it right out. Tiaan wanted to comfort her but had no idea what to say.
Steam rose from the pot. Dipping out a wooden mug of water, she began to soak the bloody sock off her ankle. The scabs had stuck to the cloth and once it was free the wounds began to bleed.
There were deep tooth marks down her shin and ankle, the gouges torn and inflamed. It looked gruesome. After bathing the injury carefully, Tiaan squeezed honey over it, the only dressing she had, and bandaged it up. If it became badly infected she might as well lie down and die.
At one stage Tiaan looked up to see Haani’s eyes on her and for the first time saw a spark of fellow-feeling there. Tiaan had suffered too.
Tiaan was in turmoil. Down at the coast she’d planned to find a boat going west, sail up as far as the sea of Milmillamel, then take another boat upriver in the direction of Tirthrax. How hard a journey would that be, and how long, with a child?
Minis had said that his people could last a year, at most. It had been late autumn when she’d left the manufactory, and winter as she’d reached Kalissin. Tiaan had lost track of time there but it must have been the best part of three months. So it was past mid-winter, though winter in these latitudes was long and maybe the worst of it was yet to come. She might get to the sea and find it frozen too.