Sheri Tepper - Grass

“Your father locked her up?”

“Among other barbarities, yes. I doubt that he even remembers he did so. The Hunt is set very deep into my father, with all its little ways.”

“Where are you taking her, Sylvan?”

“I don’t think father will suspect she’s left the place. If he misses her and remembers what he did, he’ll probably think she escaped and went out into the grasses. He may look for her, but I doubt it. Meantime, these women have relatives in Commoner Town who will keep her hidden, keep her safe.”

“Are your sisters safe?”

“For the moment. Since both have lovers, I have urged them both to get pregnant as quickly as possible. Pregnant women are not expected to ride.” His voice was flat, without feeling. “If there were any way to manage it, I would take them to Commoner Town as well. They would not be content to stay in hiding, however, and I’m afraid hiding is the only way they could avoid being brought back.”

“They are welcome at Opal Hill, Sylvan.”

“That would mean the end of Opal Hill, Marjorie.” He reached out to her, touched her arm, for the moment moved from his own troubles by her concern. “You were only allowed there as a feint, a distraction, to keep Sanctity from doing something intrusive. Our… our masters do not want you on Grass. They do not want any outsiders on Grass.”

“They allow Commons! They allow the port!”

“They can’t get at Commons or the port. That may be all that has kept the town safe thus far. I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. All of us bons are so… so hypnotized. A few of the younger ones, like me, a few who haven’t hunted for a few years, we can talk about things; but even with us, when we start to get close to — “ He choked. When he was able to. he said, “It’s better in Commoner Town. Whenever I’ve been there, I’ve been struck with how clear everything is. I can think anything I please and nothing binds on me. I can talk about anything there.”

“Are you going to stay in town?”

“I can’t. Father might suspect about mother if I did. He might come after her. He might start something between the estancias and the town. That could only mean… well, loss of life. Tragedy.” He fell broodingly silent, his eyes on his mother’s bandaged face. “Why did you and your family really come here?”

“I think Sanctity told you about the… the disease.”

“Your plague, yes,” he said impatiently. “We know about that.” His face betrayed that he did not think it terribly important. Marjorie stared at him, wondering what he had been told, what he was being allowed to believe.

“It isn’t ‘our’ plague, Sylvan, any more than it is your plague. It is a human plague. If it goes on for a few more decades, there will be no more human life.”

He stared at her, unable to believe what she was telling him. “You’re exaggerating.”

She shook her head. “I’m not. Only another lifetime, Sylvan, and you here on Grass may be all the human life left in the universe. We’ll be like the Arbai. Gone.”

“But we here… we haven’t heard…”

“There doesn’t seem to be any plague here. Or there’s something that stops it. You wouldn’t let us send in any scientists or researchers, but you did say you’d allow an embassy. Those idiots at Sanctity thought you would accept us because of the horses, so we came, Rigo and I, to find out what we could and to talk sense to you, if you’d allow it.”

“We wouldn’t allow it. I should have known. That’s why the Hunt masters picked those who came to your reception so carefully. No one among them who could be swayed. All old riders. Except me. And they don’t know about me.”

“Swamp forest coming up below,” called Persun. “Where do you want me to land?”

Marjorie looked at Sylvan, and he at the two women. They conferred quietly, then asked that the car set down at the port.

Sylvan agreed. “The hospital is at the Port Hotel. Besides, we’re less likely to be noticed there at this time of night.”

They dropped quietly, allowed the women to depart, then took off again for Klive.

As they approached the estancia, Marjorie leaned forward to put her hand on Sylvan’s arm. “Sylvan. Before you go, I have to tell you something. I came just to tell you.”

She poured the story of her day’s discovery at him, watching him twitch with discomfort and run his finger around his collar. She wondered whether this was something he was allowed to believe or whether counterbeliefs had been given him.

“Peeper to hound,” he choked at last. “Hound to mount. That’s interesting. It could explain why they hate the foxen so much. Foxen eat peepers.”

“How do you know?”

“When I was a rebellious child, I found out I could stay away from the Hippae if I made my mind a blank. A little talent I have, or had then, that no one else seems to have. I used to sneak off into the grasses sometimes for hours at a time. Not very far, you understand, just farther than anyone else dared to go. If I was near a copse, I’d find a tree and climb it, then lie there with a glass and spy on all that went on. I’ve seen the foxen eat peepers. Peepers are easy to catch. They’re nothing but a gut with some flesh around it and rudimentary legs along the sides. I’d like to see how they change.”

“If you can get to Opal Hill before the lapse is over, I can show you where the cavern is.”

“Getting to Opal Hill,” he said, choking on his words, “would be the least of it, Marjorie. Going out into the grass would be worse. Much worse. I’m not a child anymore. I’m not as good at it as I once was. If there were any Hippae within miles of me, I’m not sure I’d be allowed to return.”

The aircar dropped once more. Sylvan took her hand and pressed it, then thanked Persun Pollut as he left, disappearing into the dark. The car returned to Opal Hill and landed in the gravel court, where Marjorie bid Persun good night and set out for the side door which was closest to her own quarters. As she approached, she heard the thunder begin once more, off in the grasses, a sound the more ominous for having no cause, no reason attributable to it. It threatened without leaving any possibility of reply.

Rigo’s voice, coming demandingly from behind her, startled her into a tiny scream, abruptly choked off. “May I ask where you have been?”

“I went with Persun Pollut to take Rowena bon Damfels to Commons, Rigo, where she could get medical care. Her son and two serving women were with her. We dropped him back at the bon Damfels village and came straight home.”

Looking into her wide eyes, innocent of any attempt to deceive him, he tried to sneer, tried to say something cutting, but could not quite. “Rowena?”

“Stavenger had beaten her — badly, I’m afraid.”

“For what?” he asked in astonishment. To beat a woman had always been, in Rigo’s philosophy, to abandon honor.

“For coming here to ask about Janetta,” she said. “Rowena and Sylvan came here to ask about Janetta. They hoped… hope that Dimity may turn up alive. Dimity. Rowena’s youngest daughter. Sylvan’s sister. The girl who disappeared. That’s why they were here.”

“I didn’t see Rowena here,” he said, his emphasis reminding her that he had seen Sylvan.

“When they were here, Rowena started sobbing. She left the room for a few moments, Tony took her to my room.”

“Leaving you with her son. And what did you two talk about?” He felt his habitual anger surging just below the surface. What had they talked about, Sylvan and Marjorie? What had she shared with him that she would not share with her husband!

She sighed, wearily rubbing at her eyes, which infuriated him further. “I tried to tell you before, Rigo, but you don’t want to hear about the Hippae. You didn’t want to listen.”