Dossan wrinkled her nose. “I wanna do Fedunzi the Silversmith. Gotta do him.” She jerked her head up as Ailiki came galloping past them and she heard a distant metallic rattle; her friends called her catears because she heard things most of them couldn’t. “Buzzit, fleas comin.” She dived down a narrow wynd between two houses.
When the guard squad’s Lanternman slipped the slide on his dark lantern and directed the beam along the wynd, Dossan and Maleesee were already around the corner and Faan had her body pressed into a shallow doorway. The yellow light beam caught Ailiki’s backside as she scratched industriously at the dry cracked earth; the Lanternman said something Faan couldn’t make out and the squad marched on.
Ailiki sat on her haunches, wriggled her nose; a moment later she trotted unhurriedly after Ma’teesee. Faan sighed and followed her.
“Guards’re itchy tonight,” she whispered when she was even with the others. “Maybe we should give it up and go home.”
Ma’teesee shrugged, drew the drying, stiffening brush along the mudbrick of the backwall, leaving scuffs of red behind, then nothing as the paint wore off. “Maybe,” she said.
Dossan frowned, shook her head. “No. Gonna tell everyone what that Kuur is. For the little ’un. You go home ‘f you want.”
Ma’teesee drew invisible lazy eights on the wall, the brush scratching at the soft brick. Her tongue moved quickly along her lower lip, flicking back and forth as it always did when she was disturbed about something. After a minute, she said, “Zizi? It was him?”
Dossan nodded. “Bara the Stick said so.”
“Diyo, but…”
“Vema vema, I know. Mulehead. But I heard him tell it. This is different.” The paint bucket clanked again as she shivered violently.
Faan touched Dossan’s arm. “Who’s Zizi?”
Dossan grimaced, her thin face drawn and old-looking.
“C’mon, Dossy. Tell me.”
“A street-rat, that’s all. Little ’un. ‘Bout five, something like that. Well, a bit more. Cousin of mine. His Mum’s my Mum’s baby sister, what she used to call her, anyway. One of them that hangs round down at Ladroa-vivi, slave till she got so far gone on fayyum her owner kicked her out. Zizi happened after that. He used to come by the kitchen and Mum would sneak him something to eat.”
“So?”
“Mavucador, you know him, the crab man, he picked pieces of Zizi out of his traps last month.”
“And Fedunzi put him in the River?”
“Diyo.”
“Why?”
“I don’ wanna talk about it. Why don’t matter ’cause he’s gonna do it again if we don’t tell. And no one’s gonna listen to us, we’re kids and Wascra. So we gotta make ’em talk.”
Maleesee grimaced. It wasn’t fun any more and she didn’t like being serious. ‘
Faan sucked in a long breath and let it out. The night had gone flat for her, too, but she was ready to back Dossan wherever her idea led.
› › ‹ ‹
The shop of Fedunzi the Silversmith was closed tight against the dark, heavy shutters over the windows and a half-starved hound chained beside the door. Dossan looked round the corner, saw the dog and drew back, chewing her lip. “Fa, can you sleep him like you did the rat?”
Faan looked, scratched at her ear. “I ‘spose. He’s a lot bigger.”
Ma’teesee wriggled her body impatiently, scuff-danced around in circles, saying nothing.
Faan glanced at her, irritated, then went back to her problem. “I’m kinda tired, Dossy. Why don’t we just leave it, paint something on the school wall?”
“No. Nobody but young ’uns pays any ‘tendon there. I want to start the old ’uns talkin. You know. Don’t take much.”
“Or last long.” Faan rubbed her back along the wall’s rough bricks. “You ought to come talk with Kassian Tai.”
“At the Beehouse? I can’t, Fa. Things at home are…” She shrugged. “Do it, huh?”
Faan kept her back against the wall and slid down until she was sitting on her heels, hands resting on her thighs; she grimaced at the scummy dirt between the silversmith’s house and the next one over. “I’ve got to clean us up, too, ‘member? Takes it out of you…” She reached into a pocket in her belt, squeezed out an odd shaped pearl a water elemental had given her and tossed, it to the ground in front of her knees. It lay there white and shining in the moonlight… shimmering •… she focused on it, began whispering the power-words the Sibyl had helped her find, embarrassing words she didn’t want the others to hear.
Dossan looked repeatedly around the corner. As soon as she saw the hound lower his drooling jaws on his forelegs and shut his eyes, she caught up the paint bucket, beckoned to Ma’teesee, and went running for the front of the shop.
Dossan tapped Faan on the shoulder.
Carefully, sliding from the trance as the Sibyl had taught her, Faan let the spell evaporate into the night. The hound surged onto his feet and started howling.
Ma’teesee darted around the corner, dropped the brush into the bucket. “Buzzit!” Her whisper was urgent.
Faan scooped up the pearl, staggered as she tried to stand. Ma’teesee and Dossan caught hold of her arms, heaved her onto her feet, then they ran into the maze of wynds between the houses, spurred on by the continued belling of the hound and the old man’s hoarse yells.
With Ailiki trotting before them, they reached the River unnoticed, tossed the bucket and brushes into the water, and huddled under a gatt while Faan worked another spell and peeled the paint off skin and clothing. She was so tired by the time they were clean, Dossan and Ma’teesee had to pull her onto her feet and hold her up for a few steps until she was in the groove again.
There was a crowd milling about in the lane, muttering. Fedunzi had slammed his window down and retreated into a stubborn silence, refusing to answer the yells of the Shinda guards or the hammering on his front door.
ZIZI+MURDER was scrawled in huge glyphs across the front of the shop, a phallus and testicles painted on the door in swooping lines and FEDUNZI RAPES BABIES.
Dossan poked her elbow in Faan’s ribs. “See?” she whispered.
“Vema, vema.”
Ma’teesee grabbed a handful of shirt on both the others, tugged them back. “Le’s bouzh, Tchi’ka. I wanna hit m’ bed ‘fore th’ sun come up.” She didn’t wait for them, but went darting off toward Vallaree Wynd and her mother’s house.
Dossan went with Faan until they could see the Bee-house ahead.
And two figures strolling toward it from the direction of the Sokajarua.
Faan’s hand tightened on Dossan’s arm. “That’s trouble,” she whispered. “You better go.”
Dossan nodded. “Um… see y’ tomorrow?”
“Verna,” Faan said absently. She heard the soft scrape of Dossan’s feet, then she went slipping through the shadows of the Lane, intent on reaching the Bee-house before Reyna and Jea got there.
› › ‹ ‹
Faan lay in bed, listening to the quiet footsteps coming up the stairs. If Reyna had noticed her, he’d be in to talk soon as he’d washed up. She needed to tell him about Fedunzi, to get him to explain why… why… she needed to know if he’d ever… he hadn’t, he COULDN’T have…
She lay a long time shivering and miserable. He didn’t come and didn’t come.
Then the door opened.
“It’s way after midnight. Where were you? What were you doing out this late?” It was like he was beating her with the words,
She rolled onto her side, turning her back to him, pulled the quilts higher, and lay stiffly still.
His voice softened, but it was too late, his first words had wiped away everything but anger, fury, and hurt. “Faan, I’m not scolding you, I’m worried about you. The Edge is no place… ahhh, honey, so many things could happen to you, bad things I wish you didn’t understand, though I’m afraid you do. Children do…”
With angry angular movements, Faan bounced up, jerked the quilt around her shoulders and sat in the middle of the knotted sheets glaring at Reyna. “Understand! I understand a lot of things.”