Xe moved about the hut, testing the walls, pushing at them, trying to find a board rotten enough to let xe break through.
Nothing, nothing, nothing.
The word beat in xe’s throat like blood. Nothing, nothing, nothing. The wood was weathered and cracked but too sound for xe’s strength.
Xe started at a thump against the door, stood with xe’s hand pressed against xe’s mouth until xe’s heart steadied and the mix of sounds told xe what was happening.
The mallit was tired of standing; he’d dumped himself down and had got himself arranged with his back against the door. A moment later, he started whistling, flatting notes and garbling the beat so xe almost didn’t recognize the tune, though it was a song xe’d heard on the radio dozens of times in the weeks before xe left Khokuhl, one they said was popular in the cities along the southern coast. The noise plucked at xe’s nerves, but xe tried to ignore it as xe looked around and considered what to do next.
Trying without much success to ignore the images in xe’s head of a hoard of body izin crawling up xe’s legs, xe stepped onto the noxious bedding and began pushing gently at the shutter. It was thinner than the walls or the door, and xe could smell the dryrot.
Xe’s heart leaped into xe’s throat as xe’s fingers passed along the latchhook. If it was secured from the inside…
The hook was stiff, with a hump in the end meant to hold it firmly in the staple. Xe didn’t dare use much pressure. Too much noise and the mallit would notice. Pull in, push up. Pull harder. Tight, the fit was tight, easy, thumb under the end, up, push up, ahhh!
Xe caught the hook before it could swing loose. For a moment xe couldn’t catch xe’s breath, just leaned xe’s head against the wall and gasped in the stinking lifeless air.
Then xe pushed against the shutter and it moved.
Xe jerked xe’s hand back when the hinges started to squeal, waited to see if the mallit had noticed.
He was singing now, beating time with the flat of his hand against the deck; there was a chorus of sorts that he shouted out every few slaps of his hand, the words so mangled and slurred that she couldn’t make out what they were. That didn’t matter. The only thing important to xe was that they were loud and if xe fitted xe’s actions properly to them, xe could get that creaking shutter open.
Inch by inch, hands trembling with that strain, shuddering as the hinges squealed and groaned, xe edged the shutter back. After an eternity, xe pushed it against the wall and stood with xe’s hand bent, gulping in the acrid, briny air off the bay.
Yal broke off the song.
Thann straightened, stood tense, hand pressed across xe’s mouth.
He started whistling “Bashar’s Lament,” the last song Mandall had announced on the day that he was killed.
Thann forced back the wave of grief. Xe had no time for memories now. Mandan Was dead, Isaho was alive and needed xe.
Xe turned xe’s back to the wall, hitched a hip onto the sill, and got xeself up into the window. Xe caught hold of the roof’s overhang, used that to pull xeself out as slowly as xe could force xeself to move, struggling with desperate attentiveness to keep the chains from clanking.
When xe was out, xe crouched and shuffled across the deck, crept under the sail tarp and wriggled through the bales until xe could see the wharves and massive warehouses that edged the end of the inlet.
Xe counted the masts and funnels of half a dozen steam coasters tied up at the wharves and smaller, sleeker ships that had to be smugglers’ craft. Behind the slate roofs of the warehouses a massive stone wall rose so high she could barely see the crenellation along the top. Fort Yedawa. We built it to keep pirates away from our cargoes and our shores. Now the pirates have moved behind the walls and turned into slavers and whoremasters and arms dealers.
The peddler’s boat was tied at the last of those wharves, moored to a pair of crusted bitts. The nearest of the steamers was two wharves over; it was long and broad in the beam, with auxiliary masts, short, stubby things that looked as if sails run up them would be absurdly useless at shifting the rusty bulk of the ship. She could see several crewmals working without much enthusiasm on repairs that seemed to involve a lot of hammering and scraping.
Birds glided overhead or sat the chop between the boats like miniature boats themselves, white and black with long greenish-ocher beaks. Cats lay sleeping in the sun or prowled among the bales and barrels piled on the wharves, killing rats, dodging the feet of the few ladesmals and sailors in view. Two of the steamers farther along the line were being readied for departure; the other ships were deserted except for watchmals dozing at their posts and a crewmal or two working with a lazy lack of enthusiasm.
Xe couldn’t get onto the wharves. Deserted as they were by all but a few, there were still were too many eyes about; listening to the peddler speculate with his son about the price xe’d bring convinced xe that the first person here to see xe running loose would put the grab on xe faster than the peddler had. But xe couldn’t stay here among the bales; it’d take about five minutes to find xe. Xe was a strong swimmer, but the iron chains would drag xe down if xe tried that.
Hiding places… anywhere I think of the peddler would see too… he’s a horror, but he’s not stupid… if he got a search started… no, he wouldn’t do that, he doesn’t trust folk here enough for that… so, that’s a small plus on my side… if I can’t figure out something… might as well crawl back in the window.., he’s sold Isaho by now… I can… God, why did you let this happen… why?
Thann lay with xe’s face pressed against xe’s arms until xe’s breathing steadied, then xe listened a moment to Yal’s whistling. When the mallit began a series of elaborate trills, xe slipped over the side of the boat, used the rotting fenders to haul xeself along until xe was under the wharf, then began making xe’s way south in the cold and filthy water beneath the wharves, fighting the down-pull of the chains and fatigue, moving hand over hand along the cross bars between the piles, blessing God’s beneficence at giving xe a receding tide.
Near the far end of the line of wharves the water began to stink even more than it had and it was filled with bits and pieces of things xe didn’t want to think about, things being swept outward by a powerful current that would have caught Thann and taken xe with them if the smell hadn’t stopped xe.
Xe clung to a cross bar and scowled at the water boiling up a few feet in front of xe-, below the murky surface, xe could see a rounded dark blotch. Sewer outfall. And in a short while the tide would be out enough to uncover it. The thought made all xe’s stomachs heave, but it did offer the only hideaway xe’d found in all xe’s cogitations.
Xe pulled xeself from the water and perched wearily on the bar. As soon as xe was settled, xe checked the egg. The sealing sphincter of the pouch had held, God be blessed; xe didn’t want to think of the infection that swam in that filthy water. Xe sighed and leaned against the weedy stone to wait for the uncovering. With a little luck the peddler wouldn’t get back to the boat before the tide started coming in again and xe’d be tucked away up in the sewers where even he wouldn’t think to look. Oh, blessed God, keep Isaho safe and grant me grace and patience to do what is necessary.
2. Crossing the mountains
Wintshikan watched Luca and Wann come loping along the Round, got to her feet, and made her way down the mountainside to wait for the rest of the Remnant to come from hiding.
Under the thick foliage of the trees the night was dark and quiet; the moon wasn’t up yet and a drift of thin clouds muted the starlight. Wintshikan found that darkness oppressive and walked ahead a short distance to a place where a windstorm two years ago had blown down a huge old, tree and opened out the forest. She sat down on the crumbling trunk, pulled her Shawl more tightly about her; the cold that gripped her had little to do with the night and a lot to do with the decision she’d taken up there on the mountainside.