Jeanne G'Fellers - Sister Lost, Sister Found (15 page)

“I might.”

“Well, we won’t be able to stand the stench.”

“Thanks a lot.”

Kaelan pointed to a break in Rankil’s handiwork. “You missed a stitch.”

“I know,” Rankil replied.

“Your cloak. Your rules. Now move your rump before I follow the wrong line and sew up something important.”

Rankil laughed, pulled the cloak free, then threaded a fresh length and began to stitch again. “Kaelan?”

“Yes?”

“When will I be allowed to wear leggings like you?”

“When you come of age.”

“When’s that?”

“Your eighteenth summer.” She smiled at Rankil’s irritated sigh. “Sounds like forever, doesn’t it?”

“Just short of,” Rankil mumbled. “Why eighteen? If I were Autlach I’d be old enough to marry now.”

“Sixteen is not grown in Serpent terms.” Kaelan put down her needle and motioned Rankil to do the same. “Let me put this into perspective for you.” She rose and began to pace the straw-laden floor, arms crossed behind her back. “You’ve chosen your path, haven’t you?”

“Broadback,” replied Rankil. “I’ve known that for a while. My body won’t let me forget it either.”

“Not all sisters your age are so certain. Waiting until the age of eighteen ensures self-identity. The Serpent clan also expects you to have a trade skill by that age.”

“Like potting and glass blowing?”

“Yes,” said Kaelan. “But you already have two vital skills.”

“I do?”

“You speak perfect Autlach, and you’re an excellent hunter.”

“Those are vital?”

“Most definitely,” Kaelan placed her hand on Rankil’s shoulder. “We need fluent translators for trade and to soothe the hysterics of birthers.”

“Birthers?”

“An Aut woman laboring with a Taelach child.”

“Oh.” Rankil shrugged. “Jewel told me all about that. I can see how my Autlach knowledge could be useful there, but hunting? I’m sure the clan has any number of able bodies.”

“Not necessarily.” Kaelan resumed her stitching. “You manage to find bounty in a season when most come back empty-handed. There’s a knack to doing that. We’ve barely dipped into our winter supplies because of it. That’s a thousand times more valuable than translation.”

Rankil’s stitches were growing close to Kaelan’s as the torch began to burn low over the heads. “What about Archie and Myrla?”

“Melpra will teach him music. She’s the clan’s lead musician and records keeper. He’ll learn to scribe and play the string box and time sticks.” Kaelan tugged the cloak. “Look at your head wrap. Myrla is excellent at the loom and hand knitting. That and teaching will probably be her contributions.”

“Suits her,” replied Rankil. “Those are appropriate jobs for a gentlewoman.”

“Don’t underestimate her abilities or that of any gentlewoman sister,” warned Kaelan. “She’s a crack shot with a bow.”

“Jewel?”

“Decent enough but lethal with a short blade.”

Rankil was grateful the final stitches were almost in place. “Didn’t she say something about tea before we came out here?”

“She did.” Kaelan knotted her thread and bit it loose. She shoved the point into a broken harness strap then stood. “Think we could both use a strong mug about now. I’ll be right back.” She rounded the corner into the family chamber and tiptoed to the fireside. With a little prodding and several slow burning chips, she coaxed the smoldering fire back to life. One grew accustomed to the smell.

Jewel opened her eyes when Kaelan pulled the blankets to her chin.

Didn’t mean to wake you, lover
. Kaelan’s mind touch was tender.
I was getting some tea for the night crew.

How’s Rankil faring?
Jewel’s question carried the equivalent of a kiss.

She’s finished the hem. Kaelan extended another mental caress.

With a little help, I’m sure.
Jewel shivered as Kaelan’s phase intensity increased.
Rankil is waiting for you.

I suppose she is. My thoughts will have to wait for a later time.

You’ve given me a pretty vivid image already.
Jewel’s corresponding thoughts were enough to make Kaelan shiver.

Jewel! Don’t you dare say I’m the one with a dirty mind. I learned from you. You’ve had a good teacher then because that was quite inventive.

Kaelan broke her phase. “To be continued?” she asked aloud.

“As soon as practical.” Jewel closed her eyes. “Night, Kae.”

“Pleasant dreams, Jewel of mine.” Kaelan carried the pot and a pair of mugs back to the livestock cavern where Rankil paced and talked to the nassies.

“How long until dawn?” she asked when Kaelan’s long shadow became visible.

“Three, four hours perhaps.” Kaelan poured two steaming cups. “Find a seat. I’m going to douse the torch. Our culprit should show his or her face before daylight.”

Rankil returned to the hay mound and took a long draw from her mug. “Think it may be another Taelach?”

“This far in the hills, it’s possible.” Kaelan smothered the light and felt a path to Rankil’s side. “If it is, the sister is most likely clan-less for a reason. Might be dangerous.”

“Dangerous?”

“You have to commit a serious offense to lose your clan affiliation.”

“Like murder?” Rankil could feel Kaelan’s nearby warmth—a comfort in the cavern’s darkness.

“No, proven murder or rape will earn you slow death in any clan. A clanless sister is probably a thief.”

“I see.” The warm drink only made Rankil sleepier. She yawned and stretched, trying to stay alert.

“I won’t be disappointed if you rest your eyes.”

“You won’t be?” Rankil’s head felt like a lead weight in danger of falling from her shoulders.

“Not a bit. I’ll wake you if I need you.”

“You won’t tell Jewel?”

“I’ll swear dead to rights you were wide-eyed the entire night.” She pushed an ever so slight phase that soon had Rankil snoring. Kaelan maintained watch the remainder of the night, but her head also nodded as dawn approached. She was nearing full sleep when the nassies began to nicker. Someone was near.

Rankil, wake up. A moderate level of discomfort accompanied the prod.

RANKIL! NOW!

“Huh?” Kaelan silenced the verbal reply with a phase pinch. Shush! W
e have company.

Ow! Milk thief?

Appears so.

What? Rankil could only broadcast confusion over what to do.

Keep still. Let them come to us.
Kaelan received the sensation of a mental nod. She crept between the nassies and quieted them with a warming hand to their front flanks.

A slender shadow edged into the cavern and placed a bucket under the milker. Rankil could hear the liquid splash as the culprit worked.

“You going to drink that all by yourself?” Kaelan lunged forward and grabbed the form about the waist. The thief shrieked and kicked backward, planting a foot in Kaelan’s groin. Kaelan cried out and her grip loosened just enough for the scrawny someone to bolt away.

“No you don’t!” Rankil tackled the shadow at the knees, pulling it to the ground.

“Hold on!” Kaelan grabbed the torch from the wall, relit it and held it to the flailing figure’s face. “Now let’s see who had the gall to kick me there.” The terror-filled brown eyes of a manure-faced Autlach girl no older than six stared up at them. She wailed at the sight of her captors and wet down the front of Rankil’s new wrap.

“Don’t eat me! M’ma says I’m rotten, too skinny to be much of a meal! I’ll only make your belly hurt. Please! I want my m’ma!”

The stomach can speak louder than the mind.

—Taelach wisdom

“Don’t lay her on the blankets. Her hair is infested.” Jewel pointed to where she had spread a portion of the room divider from their Serpent grotto. “We don’t all want the itch.” She tended the unconscious child in her typical mothering fashion— stripping her clean of the urine soaked clothing, bathing her from a bucket of water and clearing her brown tangles of nits. “I know we can’t spare the lamp fuel, but it’s the most effective itch treatment I know.”

“Use all you need.” Kaelan scratched her head. “Maybe we all should wash with it just to be safe.”

“Not a bad idea.” Jewel slid one of her own tunics over the child’s malnourished frame. “Did your phase turn up anything of use?”

“I just discussed the information with Archell.” Kaelan shoved the girl’s foul smelling, ragged clothes into the water and pushed the bucket away. “She’s the eldest of three children. Her mother brought them here to escape an abusive home. They fared well over the summer but had to butcher their pack milker for food a few days ago. The mother is very pregnant.” Kaelan blinked and shook her head. “And, Jewel, she knows it’s a Taelach babe.”

“How would she know?” Jewel stared at the dark-skinned child. “And the oldest? Why, she’s just a baby herself. We have to help these people. They’ll starve without assistance.”

“But how do you convince a terrified child her mother’s teachings are wrong?” Kaelan scratched her head again. “Do itch bugs fly?”

“No, but they do hop.” Jewel thrust the oilskin at her. “Comb out your head before it spreads even more. Has Rankil finished changing? I want to soak her clothes before they stain.”

“Last I saw, she was by the spring, sand scrubbing her cloak.”

“Poor girl,” replied Jewel, “I hope the smell comes out of the fur.”

“You’re not the only one.” Kaelan wrinkled her nose.

Rankil returned as they spoke, shivering naked from the waist up, her soggy cloak and tunic draped across her arm. She sneered at the sleeping child, spread her things over the drying racks near the fire, and slid on a fresh tunic. Kaelan motioned her over and combed a thick coating of oil through her shoulder length layers.

“Bad enough I smell like piss,” Rankil griped between Kaelan’s tugs. “Thanks to her I get to smell like a lantern, too.”

“Watch your mouth. It’s not the child’s fault we scared her so.” Kaelan pushed her away. “Besides, the urine smell is gone.”

“Good riddance!” Rankil shook out her hair as the other youths returned from their morning chores.

“I mucked the cavern for you, Rankil.” Myrla grinned at Rankil’s appreciative nod and sniffed the fuel-laden air. “The little girl has the itchies, don’t she?” she asked in Autlach.

“Doesn’t she,” corrected Jewel with exact fluency before reverting to Taelach. “And, yes, she does, so keep your distance. We only have so much fuel.” She resisted the urge to scratch. “Has Archell finished feeding?”

“All but,” replied Myrla. “You know how he likes to sing them through breakfast.”

“Sometimes at the cost of his own.” Kaelan chuckled. “Ah, there he is.” Archell lumbered into view. “Did the livestock enjoy their serenade?”

“Always do.” Archell glanced at the tiny Autlach child. “Pretty little girl with pretty little curls—seems so very hungry. Are you going to leave her asleep?”

“We were waiting for you to convince her she’s not dinner,” said Jewel. “Think you could make her understand we want to help?”

“Archell can try.” He settled beside the frail child and smoothed back her oil-laden hair. “Ooh, itchy bugs.” His jovial face turned long. “An oiling for me as well?”

“For all of us,” replied Kaelan as she shooed the others away. “Keep your distance and let Archell have a go. We don’t have many spare clothes.” She focused a rousing phase into the Autlach girl’s open mind. “She’s all yours, Archie. Do your worst.”

“Worst?” He said with a sideways glance. “Archell always sings his best.” A comforting tune rose from his chest as the girl began to stir. She squinted and shook off her daze, bringing her new surroundings into fuzzy focus. “Hello, pretty thing.” He said between verses. “You’re safe.”

The girl gave him a curious look then turned her ear to the tune. “Nice,” she muttered when he stopped. “Sing me some more?”

“Tell me your name and I will.”

“Olitti. What’s your name?”

“Archell.” He sang her a silly upbeat melody. “Tell me about your brothers and mother.”

“How’d you know ’bout them?” Olitti sat up. “Where am I?”

“Safe in my family’s cavern.” Archell couldn’t keep from noticing that one of the girl’s eyes wandered. The brown iris of the left had faded, and the pupil was shrunken and opaque from disuse. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes!” Olliti’s stomach gave an affirming growl. “You have food to share?”

“We have bread and milk. Archell will bring you some. Wait here.”

Jewel passed him a laden tray when he returned to the fireside. “She can’t see well, that’s a plain fact.” She whispered in his ear. “We’ll introduce ourselves one at a time from a distance.”

“Logical.” Kaelan bent close as well. “Reduce the shock value. She’ll talk to us before she can see us.”