Ian Irvine - Geomancer

‘I would like to buy some food, please.’

‘Myrz?’

Tiaan mimed putting food in her mouth.

The child laughed. ‘Mitsy-pitsy. Flar hyar!’ It trotted off to the hut, looking back at intervals to see that Tiaan was following. At the entrance the child pushed aside a hanging door and slipped inside, calling out.

Tiaan waited. She’d left her pack in the boat and was afraid it would disappear if she let it out of her sight. The child’s head appeared beneath the hanging. ‘Blazy mirr!’ It made hand-signals that seemed to be saying, ‘Come in.’

Casting an anxious glance at the boat, Tiaan crawled inside. It was surprisingly warm. The air had a thick tang of smoke, fish stew and the ripe smell, not unpleasant, of humanity. Three women squatted on the floor, which was considerably lower than the ground outside. A small fire of pine logs glowed in a stone-lined pit. An iron cauldron hung above it on a pole supported on two forked sticks embedded in the floor. A heap of firs against the far wall made a communal bed.

The women might have been triplets, at least to her eyes, for they all had long faces, the same pale lime hair and thin, prominent noses. They got up, fleshy women all, and rather taller than she was. Now Tiaan saw the differences. They must be sisters, the one nearest her older than the others. The second was the youngest and had a round scar on her chin.

‘Hello,’ said Tiaan in common. ‘My name is Tiaan Liise-Mar.’ She pointed to her chest. ‘I would like to buy some food.’ She pantomimed that as well.

The oldest woman, the most plump and buxom of the three, tilted her head to one side, puzzled. She debated with the others then turned back to Tiaan. ‘Vart iss “buyy”?’ Her accent was extremely heavy.

‘It means “pay for with money”.’

They looked uncomprehending. Tiaan fingered the piece of silver out of her pocket, showing it on the palm of her hand. She hoped that was not a mistake.

The oldest woman looked even more puzzled, then took up the piece of silver, examining it in the firelight. She passed it to the others. The middle one tasted it, the other tested it with her teeth.

‘It’s silver,’ said Tiaan. ‘Money for food!’ The smell of the stew was making her salivate.

‘Mun-ney!’ said the older woman, and burst out in a great roar of laughter, displaying a dozen yellow, angled teeth. The other women laughed just as heartily, whereupon the first clapped Tiaan on the back with a meaty hand and tossed the silver back to her.

‘I Fluuni,’ she said. ‘Middle sister iss Jiini; little sister iss Lyssa. Daughter iss Haani.’

Tiaan repeated the names, sounding them in the Tiksi way with extended vowels. From the hysterical laughter, she had got them completely wrong. ‘I am Tiaan,’ she repeated.

They repeated her name, mispronouncing it as badly. Lyssa dipped a wooden ladle in the cauldron, spilled the contents onto a square wood platter and handed Tiaan an implement like a spoon with teeth on the end, also made of wood.

She took it, not knowing what to say. What payment would they require? The plate contained a thick, bright-yellow mess. She could smell fish, though it had long since fallen to pieces. There were long fibrous sections of vegetables that might have been parsnip, dark unidentifiable grains, a hint of onion.

‘Eat,’ Fluuni said.

Tiaan took a mouthful. It was a peculiar combination of flavours, but delicious. She heaped up her implement. The women and the child were staring at her expectantly. ‘Good!’ she said. They did not understand. ‘Very good!’ She smacked her lips, patted her stomach. Still the stares. Had she committed some terrible blunder?

She shovelled in some more, swallowed, and to her embarrassment her stomach gave a great rollicking gurgle. Beaming smiles appeared. Haani clapped her hands.

Tiaan finished the stew. Immediately another ladle was emptied onto her platter. Her stomach was groaning from the first but they were looking at her so expectantly that it seemed ill-mannered to refuse. By the time the second was gone she was bursting, heavy-bellied and drowsy. Fluuni immediately dipped the ladle again. Tiaan leapt up, cried her thanks and bowed from the waist. They did not know what to make of this either.

They offered her tea made from mustard seeds. Its pungency went up her nose. Tiaan sneezed and tears ran from her eyes.

Afterwards she felt really sleepy. It was ages since she’d had a decent night’s rest. Leaning against the wall she closed her eyes, snatched them open again and fell fast asleep.

When she woke it was just as smoky and gloomy and Tiaan thought she’d slept only for a few minutes, though she felt unusually refreshed. The room was empty. She crawled through the door and to her horror discovered that it was near dusk. She’d slept the day away.

Her eye wandered along the river bank. The boat was not there! She hurtled down to the water. No sign of it anywhere, nor of her pack and its infinitely precious contents. Tiaan sprinted back to the hut, crashing into Lyssa, who was carrying a load of wood from the forest. Sticks went everywhere.

Tiaan helped her pick them up. ‘Where is my boat?’

‘Bote?’ Lyssa replied.

Tiaan made paddling motions with her hands. ‘Trall!’ said Lyssa, going around the back of the hut. The boat was leaning against the wall, upside down. Water draining from it had frozen on the ground.

‘What did you do with my pack?’ She tried to say it in sign language. Lyssa led her inside and Tiaan saw the pack not far from where she’d gone to sleep. She went though it while Lyssa looked on with a faint smile. Everything was as it had been before.

Tiaan felt embarrassed at her suspicions. Getting up, she cried ‘Thank you; thank you!’ and threw out her arms.

Lyssa beamed, folded Tiaan in her own arms and gave her a long warm hug. Her doughy flesh reminded Tiaan of her mother, back when Tiaan had been a little girl and Marnie had time for her. Before she’d been rejected for the next child, and the one after.

By this time it was dark. Shortly the two sisters appeared with Haani. They began preparing vegetables, peeling onions and garlic from bunches hung at the ceiling, and a variety of roots which they brought from a cellar whose trapdoor was in one corner.

Tiaan offered to help but they sat her by the fire, the place of honour. Dinner was a slab of husky black bread placed in the bottom of a platter and the liquid from the fish stew poured over it. She ate every scrap and mopped her plate with the crusts.

Following that, Lyssa sang to Haani. It seemed to be a long tale, perhaps part of the Histories, or the Histories of the family. Tiaan did not know the language. It went on for at least an hour, a story full of drama and tragedy, fire and passion, and tender lovemaking too, judging by the wistful look that crept across Lyssa’s face. The older women sat mending their clothing as they listened.

Finally the Histories had been sung. The child sat droopy-eyed while they undressed her, gave her a perfunctory clean with a wet rag and put her to bed in the middle of the furs. Then they laid down their work and looked expectantly at Tiaan. Evidently she had to sing for her supper.

Had she been asked to sing at the manufactory, Tiaan would have been so mortified that she could not have made a single note. But these people did not know her, they would never see her again, and besides, she owed them for the food, shelter and kindness.

She had not sung since she was a child in the breeding factory. A nursery rhyme popped into her head, a cautionary tale about a frog and a butterfly. She sang it in a hoarse, scratchy voice, not well at all, though Haani seemed to like it.

When she finished, Lyssa put her finger across Tiaan’s lips, went to the fire and began stirring some kind of aromatic balm into a mug. It had a lemony, minty aroma. She squeezed in honey from a red-black comb and passed it to Tiaan with a smile.