Jo Clayton - Shadowplay

Rohant scratched at his jaw, shook his head, then whistled to the cats who'd gone off exploring; when they appeared, he went striding away along the island with the great black beasts frisking beside him.

Shadith watched them vanish into the gloom. "Well, it is to be hoped nothing eats him or shoots him." She stood and looked around. "What now?"

Miowee scrubbed her hand across her face, bent to touch her daughter's hair. "There should be a shelter somewhere around the spring. I expect it's been provisioned for us."

"If not,, our stay'll be even shorter than Kikun suggests."

Kikun chuckled. He jumped to his feet, turned around twice, then fell onto his knees with his back to Miowee. "On," he said.

Miowee scowled at him, angry because she had no reasonable choice but to let him carry her. For over a decade, since she'd lost first her eye then her legs, she'd fought against pity and horror, distaste and averted gaze, fought against being shut away in a genteel home run by Kamsisters where her injuries wouldn't offend the passersby. Despite desperate times she never spoke of, including repeated rapes, muggings, pecking-order battles, and bearing her daughter alone on ragged sacking in a deserted warehouse, she'd made a life for herself where she was dependent on no one for mobility or support; more than that, she'd won a wide following for her love songs and joke songs and above all the passionate and powerful songs calling for redress of the wrongs done Maka and Tanak in the name of traditional values-those values that perpetuated ancient injustices and maintained in power and wealth those who'd always had power and wealth. And now she was discarded like sucked-out pulp and reduced in front of her daughter to the cripple she'd refused to be. She said nothing. She'd learned in a hard school to do what she had to without making a fuss about it. She swung herself onto Kikn's back, told Kayataki to take his hand and come along.

The shelter was a shikwakola makee, a three-room but on stilts with walls of woven reed and a thatch roof.

Shadith ran up the ladder, found a heap of supplies piled into the middle of the front room along with an assortment of spare clothing though there was nothing for Rohant except one extra-large robe that might or might not accommodate his shoulders.

She swung round holding up the robe as Kikun put Miowee down on an aromatic reed cushion. "Looks like Ro's going to be stuck with blankets if we're here long enough to do a wash."

Kikun heeheed and went back to collect the rest of the gear.

Miowee tried to smile, but the grimace evolved into a yawn. She shook herself, gazed thoughtfully at Kayataki crumped beside her, head on her thigh. With a visible effort she lifted her head and looked directly at Shadith. "Put Kaya to bed for me, will you please. I'm too tired to move."

A small but energetic fire crackled in a three-legged stone brazier set on a round ceramic tile in the main room. The cats were a complex knot of black fur in front of the door; in the puzzle tree spreading like an umbrella over the makee, Sassa was asleep and dreaming of fish. Kayataki was deeply asleep on the springy pile of bedmats in the small room to the left.

Shadith lay with a battered mug warming her stomach on the outside, most of its contents warming her insides. Her eyes were closed; she was looking through the eyes of a flying furwing similar to the furry she'd ridden the first night in the swamp, but considerably larger. "It's like someone pulled the plug, it must have been going on since before we got here. I suppose that's your people, Mee, passing the warning the town's getting too hot for anyone." She paused a moment, but Miowee said nothing. "The Pilgrim Road out of Iril is wall-to-wall people, far as the furwing can see, most of them walking, some riding or driving… urn… I suppose they're mos and kekelipis, not that I've ever seen those beasts… no motors… that's the rules, huh? Back at the city… kanaweh flitting about firebombing the Quarters and they're not being all that careful about boundaries… from the way they're built, some of the houses burning are Kawa. And the fires are spreading. The fools are going to burn the whole city if they don't cool it." She grinned into the twilight where the others were dark lumps barely visible. "I don't hear any groans, so I'll keep on. The Kasta, I can see some*windows boarded over, smoke stains, not much damage, it'll take more than a few bombs to level that lump. Flits going in and out like bothered bees. Hmm, that's odd. The guard on the roof is a Na-priest. Looks like the Gospah has expanded his territory. Well, well. The kanaweh out of control or near to it, the city burning and Makwahkik vanished, I'd say your people really made a dent this time. The Kiceota. Hmm. One of the flits seems to 've taken a hefty bite out of the north tower. There's a sag in the seaside wall, flit didn't hit that, but it blew one helluva chunk out of the cliff beneath. Searchlights all over the place, probably if we went outside, we'd see them from here. Small army on the walls. Maybe you didn't actually put the bomb up his arse, but I'd say you've got the Nistam sitting nervous. Ahhh! My head's getting tired. I think that's all for tonight."

Early morning of their fourth day on the island. The biterswarms were still sleeping off the night's excesses, the air was pleasantly warm though heavy with damp and just enough wind was blowing to brush the flat, lacy surfaces of the puzzletree fronds against each other, producing a gentle susurrous. Nflowee was sitting on the fallen tree near the sandy stretch where the flits had landed, Kayataki beside her; she was playing a jokesong on her kitskew and singing harmony with her daughter. Stripped to shorts and an undershirt, Kikun was dancing on the sand, a slow sinuous twisting that was more plantlike than animal.

Shadith stood at the water's edge, frowning at the enigmatic swamp; she couldn't see more than a few meters into the trees, not with her own eyes and she was feeling more than a little burned out after the nightly sessions flying over the city, not so much from the effort it took as from what she had to look at. She'd seen death before, destruction, war. She'd never learned to look at it with indifference, perhaps because after the first time, the time her family died, she'd always been been an outsider with none of the resources the locals had for deadening that fear and loathing. None of the justifications. None of the righteousness. Rohant had been gone for hours. At least it seemed like hours. He's restless… only four, no, three days, can't count this one yet, and he almost can't stand it. Maybe its the length of the rope tieing us down, the longer the tether, the closer to breaking it, the more impossible…

She glanced over her shoulder at the others, smiled, then went back to glooming at the water. They're out there now, the shikwakola, I don't have to reach to fed them watching. Kikun was right. We're going to have to go somewhere else. Soon. Where? No answer. How? Worse. No, boats, no flits, no nothing. We're almost as much in prison as we were in the Kasta, they stuck us in the pantry to save for later, the kuudj… might as well've stayed where we were… except for the burning-Sar! don't want to think of that… Walk out? There's Miowee… she'd have to be carried… and Kaya… it's impossible… a raft? have to cut down trees… hard to know what the shikwakola would think of that. Feed us to a slither, maybe?

She clicked her tongue, kicked sand into the water. Cut down trees, Sail With what, our teeth? I swear, next time I get to a city, rm going to STAY there. Hang on with teeth and fingernails if I have to and kick the crutch off anyone who tries to shift me.

Kiscomaskin strolled from under the trees. "No, don't stop," he said. "A charming tableau. Finish your song, please, my dears." He dropped to a squat beside Shadith and watched Kikun dance to the song Miowee and Kayataki were singing.