Sheri Tepper - Grass

“I never saw her before this moment!”

“That woman who has her. What did she do?” And when Marjorie shook her head helplessly, he went on, “Find out, quickly, or we will all be throwing dead bats at one another.”

Marjorie had no time to ask him what he meant. And then Rigo was there, and were confronting Eugenie, who was crying and disclaiming any fault and making it hard for them by babbling but telling them nothing, nothing they could use against the mounting anger all around them.

“You filth, you fragras ,” trumpeted Gustave bon Smaerlok. “What have you done to Janetta?”

“Silence,” bellowed Rigo, his voice shattering the other voices. “Silence!”

Then there was a little cup of quiet into which Eugenie’s voice splashed like the thin cold juice of a bitter fruit, “I got her in Commoner Town,” wailed Eugenie, “I got her from Jandra Jellico. All I did was make her a dress and fix her hair. She was just like this when I got her…”

Some few of the gathered aristocrats perceived that she was telling the truth, as much truth as she knew. Eugenie was as open as a child, weeping, not sure what it was she had done to make all this uproar. She had meant it as a surprise, bringing her pet to the ball. She had thought it would be fun.

“I told you we should stay far from this filth,” trumpeted Gustave once again, red of face, spittle at the corners of his mouth.

Rigo was in front of him. This could not be allowed to pass. “Filth?” he snarled. “What kind of filth allows their daughters to fall into such a state, for others to find, for others to rescue and clothe and feed? Hah?”

“Rigo!” Marjorie called, moving between the two angry men. “Obermun bon Smaerlok, we do no good to call one another names. You are all very upset. So are we.”

“Upset?” Dimoth cried. “My daughter!”

“Hear me!” Rigo thundered. “When did you see her last?”

There was silence, silence as each one contemplated an answer to that question. It had been — It had been last fall. Early last fall. She had disappeared last fall. No one wanted to say, to admit it had been that long ago.

“We heard of her disappearance,” Marjorie said. “It happened long before we ever left to come here. Before you had even given permission for us to come.”

The words hung there, unimpeachably true, Janetta had gone long before these people had come, Janetta, now standing at the middle of a small circle, dancing by herself, humming, lovely as a porcelain figure and as impersonal. Nothing in her face or glance spoke of a person being there. In the circle around her was Shevlok bon Damfels, no longer clinging to her.

“It is not Janetta,” he sobbed.

“Of course it is.”

“Don’t be silly, man.”

“This is my daughter!”

“Not Janetta,” he repeated. “No. No. This person is older.”

“She would be,” cried Geraldria. “She would be older, Shevlok.”

“And not the same. Not the same.”

Who could argue that? This creature was not the same as anyone. It turned to examine them with its odd, goose-eyed gaze, circling, as though to see if anyone had anything to interest it, some grain, perhaps, some bread. The moist, pink mouth opened. “Hnnngah,” it cried, like a kitten. “Hnnngah.”

Now there were quieter voices asking Eugenie again where she had found the girl, how long she had had the girl. Now there was movement among the bon Maukerdens, Obermun and Obermum, sisters and cousins, brothers and nephews.

Vince bon Maukerden, hotheaded, poised before Rigo. “No matter when she vanished. It was here she turned up, like that! How do we know it was not you who did it to her?”

“You,” hissed Gustave from nearby, “who have not even the courage to ride with us. It is the kind of thing a fragras would do.”

“For what reason?” asked Marjorie in a loud, mild tone. “It is simple enough to learn the truth. Ask the people in Commoner Town.”

“Commoners!” sneered Gustave, “They have no honor. They would lie!”

And then movement of the crowd as they bore the strange girl away.

Some went then. Shevlok. The bon Maukerdens. Gustave and his Obermum. Others stayed. Of those who stayed, it was the bon Damfels who stayed longest, who went over and over the story Eugenie had to tell. Sylvan, particularly, who asked again and again, “Did she say anything, Madame Le Fevre? Ever? Any word? Are you sure?” To which Eugenie could only shake her head no, and no, and no. Pet had never said anything at all.

It was only later that Marjorie realized why Sylvan had been so intent. Dimity bon Damfels had vanished in the hunt as Janetta bon Maukerden had vanished. If Janetta had emerged in this fashion, might not Dimity still be found alive, somewhere, somehow?

Though there were no physicians among the bons, there were doctors in Commons. None of the aristos had ever lowered themselves to study the professions, but no such pride had prevented various commoners from flying off to Semling for a few years, returning with extensive educations. There were also no architects or engineers of any kind among the bons, but most kinds of technical expertise could be found in Commons. So it was from Commons that Lees Bergrem came to examine Janetta bon Maukerden — Dr. Lees Bergrem, head of the hospital.

A maidservant saw it all, heard it all, told a brother who told someone else who told Roald Few.

And Roald told Marjorie. “Dr. Bergrem put a thing on her head, to measure what was going on in her brain. And there was nothing, no more than a chicken.”

“Will she be able to learn again?”

“Dr. Bergrem doesn’t know, Lady. It seems so, for Miss Eugenie had taught her to dance, you know? Taught her to hum a song, too. It seems she will be able to learn. Dr. Bergrem wanted to take her back to the hospital, but Geraldria bon Maukerden wouldn’t hear of it. Foolish, that woman. Dr. Bergrem studied on Semling, she did. And on Repentance, too. She’s written books about her discoveries here on Grass. There’s those who’ve been through here who say she knows more than many doctors, even those back on Terra.”

Marjorie, ever mindful of her duty to learn everything possible about Grass, ordered copies of Dr. Bergrem’s books to be facsimile transmitted from Semling Prime.

The tell-me hummed with the story, Janetta bon Maukerden, found alive. Of all those who had vanished over the years, she was the first to be found alive. First and only, and yet what hope this sparked among certain aristocratic parents and lovers and friends. Rowena bon Damfels came to call, alone.

“You must not tell Stavenger I was here,” she said, whispering, her face swollen with fear and grief “He and Gustave have spent hours on the tell-me. bellowing to one another. He forbade me to come.”

“I would have come to you,” Marjorie cried. “You had only to ask.”

“He would have seen you and driven you away. We are still in the lapse, and there is no Hunt. He would have seen you.”

But it was really Eugenie that Rowena wanted to see, Eugenie she wanted to question, because she could not go to Commoner Town without Stavenger finding out. Marjorie stayed with them, and it was she who suggested, “Rowena, I will ask the man and the woman to come here. The man and woman who had her, in Commons. I will ask them to come here, since you say they cannot come to your estancia, and you can come here to talk to them yourself.”

A fragile bond. A little trust. After Rowena left, Marjorie sighed, shook her head, sent for Persun Pollut.

“See if you can get the order officer and his wife to come out here tomorrow. The Jellicos. Tell them the Obermum wants to talk to them, privately. Secretly, Persun.”