Jo Clayton - Shadowkill

… says auntee Akitha caught ol’ Tinkkar playin fumblefinger with young Impanni, you coulda heard the noise in the next aynti over…”

“… you see that redhead?”

“Gonna be trouble with that one.”

“Taljee even sniff in that direction, he gonna…”

“… Jarrin says the young ’un she some kinda witch, she got healin hands or somethin…”

“Talking about witches, that Kulyari, she was in some kinda snit, made my life even more a misery than usual. She…”

The chattering housemaids seated about the long table fell abruptly silent as Tinoopa and Kizra stepped through the arch into the servant hall off the kitchen’s south end.

Cook had the armchair at the head of the table, a big woman, with massive arms and breasts like pillows. She didn’t say anything, just sat waiting for the newcomers to greet her; she reigned here and wanted no doubt of that in their minds.

With Kizra a nervous shadow in her wake, Tinoopa swept in, stopped beside Cook, held out her hand. “I greet you, Kuriya Kuma chal. May your shadow never grow smaller.”

“That’s as it may be.” Kuma chal touched the hand. “Aghilo chal tells me it’s you’ll be doing the ordering and such from now on, what is it, that fancy word? liaison, that’s it. Liaison between us ’n the Ulyinik Polyapo. Eh so?”

“I have become… um, shall we say acquainted with the Ulyinik.” Tinoopa put what was impolitic to say aloud in the dry tone of her voice, the quick lift of a brow. “I shall study to make life easier all round.” She bowed her head. “With your help, Kuriya Kuma chal, since I’m new to this place and don’t know the sweet ways, the clever ways to get done what has to be done.”

Kuma chal contemplated her for a moment, then she nodded her large head. “Yes. Jilipa, fetch a chair for the chapa Tinoopa, set it here,” she patted the table beside her. “And you, girl, yes, you, the little one, don’t hang about like an addled mouse, you too skinny as it is, sit down, eat eat.”

The morning was cool and damp with dew. In the distance Kizra could hear the blatting of some kind of beast, a fussy, irritated sound. She could hear men’s voices mixing with the blats; she couldn’t make out the words, but she thought that they were swearing. Probably at those beasts, sounded like the kind of misborn creatures who stubbornly and perversely refused to do what they were supposed to do.

And how do I know that? Gods, I wish… I wish the wipe had took all the way, then I wouldn’t have these ghosts… no, 1 don’t, no…

She could hear squeals and loud whinnies. She could hear a rhythmic thudding, with a second thudding just off the beat, she could hear singing that wove around that thudding. She could hear birds twittering, insect buzzes, a thousand small sounds that blended into a sense of peaceful purpose, a pleasant background hum for a bright sunny morning at Winter’s End.

Matja Allina stood on the steps pulling on her gloves and letting Aghilo tuck shawls about her to keep her warm.

Her daughters were there, a short distance from their mother, Ingva the older, thirteen, almost as tall as her mother and thin. An austerely pretty child, with the promise of beauty later on, intelligence sparkling in violet-blue eyes, spirit in the set of her body, the alertness of her face as she looked about. There was a wildness in her that burned through the patina of control. Kizra thought she looked like a deer about to start running, not because it was afraid but from the sheer joy of stretching its muscles.

Three years younger than her sister, Ylapura was shyer and less appealing, a wispy child with a worried little face. She had her mother’s eyes, pale shining aquamarines set in sooty lashes, but she lacked her mother’s vigor, maybe her intelligence.

The Jili (tutor) Arluja stood behind them, a thin gray woman with a tired, too-intelligent face.

Kulyari was there, too, hanging about the edge of things, looking very pretty, her hair braided and wired into intricate whorls, her skin milk white and rose pink; her mouth was a soft rose and her eyes a dark blue; they glared hate when she glanced at Kizra and a sullen dislike when she looked at Allina, a dislike that melted into demure shyness whenever Pirs was around.

Polyapo was there, Tinoopa beside her; the Ulyinik was a sour woman, full of vague resentments, but she’d pasted a simpering smile on her face in honor of the occasion.

Kizra couldn’t understand why Allina kept these two around, what constrained her. It wasn’t Pirs’ doing, he was indifferent to both women, barely noticed them. He was indifferent to everyone but Allina and his children.

Leaning heavily on Aghilo’s arm, Matja Allina walked down the stairs and across the courtyard to the long table where her female overseers waited with the new women lined up behind them.

After she was settled in the cushioned armchair, Matja Allina set a roll of papers on the table in front of her, flattened them, and held them down with two bits of slate set there for the purpose. From where she stood just behind the Matja, Kizra could see a list of names with a brief notation beside each. Anitra, Beba Mahl, Eeda, Ekkurrekah…

Matja Allina pulled out the second page, let it roll up beside the stone weight. “Nunnikura chal Weavemistress,” she called out, and waited until a heavy middle-aged woman with thick gray braids came to the far side of the table. “I have seven for you, one with some pre-existent skills, the others trainable.” She looked beyond Nunnikura chal at the labor cadre. “The chapa whose names I call, you will go with the Weavemistress. She will show you where you will sleep, equip you with clothing and other necessities, and put you to work. Lyousa va Vogl. Sabato. Bertem. Luacha. Tictoc. Enke. Dorrit.”

Matja Allina waited patiently until that was sorted out, then called, “Intoyo chat Dyemistress.”,

Kizra clasped her hands over the arranga case hanging from its shoulderstrap and withdrew her attention. Tinoopa had been heavily into aphoristic advice after they left the breakfast table.

It’s all very well, the big woman said, being backed by the local bosses, but I have to make that backing stick.

I got that Polyapo soothed down, Tinoopa said. It was easy, some butter and a sweet or two, mostly a sympathetic ear and agreeing with her vision of herself. She thinks because she’s Irrkuyon born and bred the rest of the world should flatten themselves at her feet and say yes’m and no’m and do everything she says ’cause it’s her that says it. Stupid woman. Just as well, though, Kiz. If she weren’t blind and an idiot and pretty well loathed by everyone who knows her, I wouldn’t have this cushy job.

Vindictive bitch, that Kulyari, Tinoopa said. She’s going to make my life a hell, yours, too, unless… Hmm. I wonder what they consider unforgivable around these parts.

Kizra shivered at the memory of that predatory look in Tinoopa’s eyes. Allina was right. The Shimmaroi must have found Tinoopa far too formidable to want her anywhere near their world.

She was impressed when she found out about the mind-wipe… Funny thing to be impressed by. I suppose it was because I somehow scared someone enough he had to wipe me out like that.

Mindwipe. Things keep leaking over from somewhere… last night she’d dreamed… most nights she dreamed… things… that she couldn’t quite remember when she woke… except the feelings. And the day ghosts… ideas and images that slid into her head and out again before she could catch hold of them…