Silent Hall (17 page)

Washing her proved to be its own struggle, since Narky had to carefully peel her clothes from her skin to see how badly she was injured. The motion woke Phaedra a few times, but she only babbled and stared unknowingly at him before lapsing back into unconsciousness. Criton was clearly uncomfortable with Narky's examination, and to be honest, so was Narky. He just had to keep reminding himself that she needed his help, and hoping that she would not be angry with him when she recovered.

To Narky's great relief, the open wounds on her hands and legs turned out to be the only ones she had, though her entire body was covered in dark bruises. Oddly enough, he found that she had hidden a number of mushrooms in her shirt. He handed them to Criton to pack carefully away. When her cuts had been washed and dressed to the best of his ability, and he had successfully poured some water down her throat, they were forced to simply sit back and wait.

The waiting was hard on Narky. It seemed he had nothing to do besides worry. Criton, too, spent most of his time brooding. He experimented with his magic, turning his claws to hands and back to claws again. He changed his scales to skin, and then went the other way and turned it all to scales. His hair seemed to melt back into his head, from chin to scalp. It was a frightful look and Narky was glad when Criton went back to his normal hybrid state.

“Is that all you can do?” Narky asked. “That and the fire, I mean?”

Criton sighed. “I can't heal her, if that's what you mean. I'd probably kill her, trying.”

“Oh,” Narky said. “I guess that makes sense. It just seems like there has to be more to magic than lighting fires and changing shape.”

“There is,” Criton said, looking annoyed. “But this is what I know how to do.”

“Try doing something else.”

Criton looked down at his hands, and Narky's eyes followed. “Stop looking at me,” Criton said. “I'm trying to figure something out.”

Narky snorted and looked the other way for a moment, but he did not keep his eyes off Criton for long. The other boy was staring intently into his open claw now, concentrating. It was hard to tell in the daylight, but Narky thought there might be a bright something in Criton's palm. A little bead of light, like a dewdrop suspended just above the scales. Narky might not even have noticed it, if not for the way it fluoresced in the sunlight. It skittered around in Criton's palm, blinked a bright pink, and then disappeared. Criton furrowed his brow.

“Practice,” he mumbled. “It'll get better with practice.”

Hunter returned that night, leading their packhorse. Bandu was roasting another of her melon-creatures, and the flickering light made Hunter's face appear gaunt and hollowed out.

“What took you so long?” Narky asked.

“It went badly,” Hunter said. “I killed two men.”

“They were hoping the ants would take care of us,” Narky said, and Hunter nodded in confirmation.

“How is Phaedra?”

Criton shook his head. “Bad. She's been asleep for hours now.”

Hunter knelt by Phaedra's body and felt her forehead. “Gods above,” he murmured. “She's burning up.”

Phaedra's eyes shot open. “He's watching,” she said, catching hold of Hunter's arm. He tried to pull gently away, but her grip was clearly too strong.

“Magor's watching,” she said, “and He wants us dead.”

P
haedra spent much
of the night babbling incoherently, and shivering no matter how they piled their furs on top of her. She looked so frail and cold that Bandu joined her under the furs even though Narky thought it was wrong to touch sick people.

“Fevers can jump from one person to another,” he said, and Criton looked worried.

Phaedra sweated a lot that night, and Bandu woke up almost slippery with it. Phaedra looked a little better than before, but she was definitely not ready to travel. Bandu didn't know if she would ever be ready. It was not much of a recovery, and it could just as easily get worse again.

“I'm going to die,” Phaedra mumbled, when Criton asked her how she felt.

Narky said that was fever-babble, but Bandu knew it wasn't. Phaedra's eyes could see them now.

“You're not going to die,” Hunter more or less commanded. “You're going to break this fever, and then we're going to carry you out of these mountains.”

Phaedra looked dismayed. “I can't,” she moaned. “I can't go any farther than this. Moving hurts too much. I'm dying, Hunter.”

“You were strong enough to climb out of there,” he told her. “You can do this too.”

Phaedra sighed, but she did not object again.

“We go today,” Bandu suggested. “Too cold here for you.”

They carried Phaedra down the mountain on Grayleg's back. Grayleg was slow and careful, but Phaedra still cried out faintly whenever the horse's movements jostled her too hard. Nobody could blame Grayleg: she was doing her best, but going down the mountain would have been hard enough, even without Phaedra on her back. Anyway, that was not the worst part of their journey. The worst part was when the crows began to follow them again.

“Go away,” Bandu told them. She saw how they looked at Phaedra.

“There is no meal for you here,” she said. “Go, or I will eat you.”

She tried to say it quietly, but Narky heard her. He gave her a very angry look, and apologized to his God. Still, the birds stayed farther off after she threatened them. They knew that she wasn't joking. Crows were no fools.

They had only one tent now, since Narky had used the other one as a rope. Narky insisted that crowding Phaedra was unhealthy, so tonight Bandu and Criton agreed to sleep outside. At least Bandu was used to it.

Criton had never slept out in the open before. He turned over and over and could not get comfortable, and the whispering wind was not a comfort to him. Bandu pulled him near and laid his head on her chest.

“Do you hear it?” she whispered to him.

“You mean your heart?”

“Yes,” she said. “What it says?”

Criton looked up at her. “It says, ‘I love you.'”

She laughed, her worries momentarily forgotten. “What it
really
says?”

“That's all it says!” He was smiling too.

“No,” she told him. “I listen to Four-foot's heart. You know what it says?”

“No,” he said, half sitting up. “What did it say?”

She took a deep breath. “It says ban-doo. It always says ban-doo.”

She saw his eyes widen with his understanding. “Did you used to have another name?” he asked.

“Maybe. I call myself Two-foot before.”

Criton nodded. “Do you want to listen to my heart?”

When she put her head on Criton's chest, his heart was beating much faster than Four-foot's heart ever had. It was pounding in excitement. And it was saying her name.

T
hey took
the long way out of the mountains, so that they would not have to climb as much and Phaedra would not get bumped as badly. The travel was hard on her anyway, and she kept begging them to stop and rest a little while longer. Still, she was getting a little better, Bandu thought. She was awake for longer, anyway.

One afternoon, when they had stopped beside a mountain stream, Phaedra motioned Bandu to come over to her. “Where are the mushrooms?” she whispered.

“Mushrooms?” Bandu asked, confused.

“The ones I found in the farmer ants' nest,” Phaedra said, her voice fading away almost to nothing. “They were blueglow mushrooms, Bandu! I saved a few for Psander. Are they safe? Did you pack them already?”

Bandu shrugged and checked the saddlebags. Sure enough, someone had stuffed some mushrooms in there. The sight of them enraged her. She even considered throwing them away. She had almost lost Phaedra in that cave – almost lost her! Her injuries might yet kill her. How could Psander still have a hold over her? Bandu wanted to destroy those mushrooms.

But she didn't. Instead, she packed them back where she had found them and tried to forget that they were there.

That night, Phaedra's fever finally broke. When they rose in the morning they found her sleeping peacefully under her furs, a smile creeping onto her face despite the beads of sweat that glistened all over her skin. When she awoke, her eyes had lost their glassy look.

It had taken them only two days to reach the mountain called Galadron, but it took two weeks to reach the plains again. Phaedra's health steadily improved as the days went by. Bandu still watched her carefully, worrying that her cuts would turn colors the way that Four-foot's had, but Phaedra was lucky. The only thing she still complained about was that she had lost her scrolls when her bag tore. Bandu was secretly glad, though of course she said nothing. Criton had told her that scrolls were just skins covered in old words, but Bandu still did not like them. Dead people should not be able to talk.

When they came out of the mountains, Hunter turned them northward.

“Hold on,” Narky said. “Shouldn't we go back to Silent Hall?”

“Later,” said Hunter. “First we're going to Anardis. She said the priests there were healers, and I think a temple library would be a good place for Phaedra to rest right now. Besides,” he added, “I said we could go there after the mountains.”

“Aww,” said Phaedra, a weak smile playing across her lips. “Thanks, Hunter!”

Bandu sighed in relief. The less time they spent in Silent Hall, the better. It was a wicked place.

“I'm glad Phaedra's doing better,” Criton said that night, when the two of them were alone outside the tent. “I really thought we were going to lose her.”

Bandu nodded. “I know. Don't talk now.”

“When she came out of there,” he went on, “smelling like death…”

“I don't want to hear!” she scolded him. “I remember.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, “but I have to talk about it. It's eating me up. I can't get it off my mind. I thought she was going to–”

She stopped his mouth with a kiss, and when he tried to say something, gave him another. He soon forgot to talk, which was good. There was too much talk. Talking all the time made her feel weak and stupid, when she knew that she was really strong. In silence, they were equals.

She did not expect it to hurt when they mated, but it did. He did not fit as easily as she had thought he would, but he tried anyway, far too hard. She cried for him to stop, and saw his face change: anger and frustration beat down upon her from his eyes. He didn't understand.

“What's the matter?” he asked. He was trying to control himself, but his voice was not as gentle as it should have been.

Bandu glared at him. “It hurts! Why you are angry with me? I don't hurt you!”

“I'm not angry,” Criton lied. “I'm just – I'm not angry.”

He covered himself and moved away. Bandu said nothing, just watched him while he glared off into the distance.

“I'm sorry it hurts,” he said finally. “I didn't know it would hurt. Did I – did I do it wrong?”

Relief rushed through her. He was worrying about her now, and not himself. “It is better later,” she said, putting an arm around him. She hoped it would be.

“So what now?” he asked.

She pushed him gently down and laid her head on his chest. “I listen to your ban-doo.”

“My Bandu,” he repeated. “My Bandu.” He began stroking her hair.

She awoke to find herself bleeding. It had been about a month since the last time, so that much was normal, but Phaedra gave her a funny look when she asked for one of those pads that were so useful. Bandu wondered if something was wrong.

“Next time we're in town,” Phaedra said, sounding normal enough, “we can buy more wool and linen and I'll show you how to make your own.”

That evening, Phaedra finally revealed what was going on in her head. While Hunter was busy putting up their tent and the others were out looking for firewood, she leaned over and asked Bandu, “So, what is it like?”

Bandu looked at her curiously. What was ‘it?'

“I heard you two sneaking off,” Phaedra explained. “How does it feel?”

“What feels?” asked Bandu. “What is sneaking? I am sneaking off what?”

“Oh, you know,” Phaedra nearly whispered. “Off to make love. With Criton.”

Oh. Bandu shook her head. “It hurts.”

Phaedra nodded, as if this was normal. “They say it's supposed to hurt the first time. I guess it doesn't later. But congratulations! The first time is special.”

“Why?”

“Well, because it's a big change. You were a virgin, and now you're not.”

“What is virgin?” Bandu asked.

“Someone who hasn't done it before. A maid, like… well, like me.”

There was a sinking feeling in Bandu's stomach. “I not like you now? Why changed?”

“Just because,” Phaedra said uncomfortably. “Because it's different. You can never be a virgin again. Making love shouldn't hurt as much now, and it won't make you bleed again even if you want it to.”

That was the most ridiculous thing Bandu had ever heard. “Why,” she asked slowly, “do I want to bleed
more
?”

“Oh, you won't have to,” Phaedra said hurriedly. “Criton won't leave you, so you're safe. It won't come up.”

That made even less sense. What was Phaedra trying to say? Bandu didn't think her bleeding had anything to do with Criton, but apparently Phaedra thought otherwise. Could she be right? If Criton left, would it make Bandu bleed more? Or did she mean that mating would hurt her all over again if she did it with someone else? What if she didn't want to mate with anyone else, or to ‘make love,' as Phaedra called it? And if she did, how would her body know that it wasn't still with Criton? Bandu wasn't even sure what to ask first. In the end, she just said, “What?”

Phaedra might have been
trying
to confuse her, because she tried to make up for the nonsense of her words by saying them faster.

“Well, you know,” she said, “some men take women's virginity and leave, which is terrible because then you've been disgraced and you can't marry anyone else. If you did, they'd find out you weren't a virgin because you didn't bleed. A lot of women in Karsanye ended up that way, and their fathers disowned them, and they had to become whores or starve. A whore makes love to men for money, Bandu. Everyone said those girls wished they could be virgins again, but it was too late. But don't worry, you'll be fine because Criton is a good man and he'll marry you.”

Bandu scratched at a scab on her knee, and tried to make sense of all that. “What is ‘marry?'” she asked. “Why it needs virgins?”

Phaedra looked a little shocked. “You don't know what it means to – um, all right. When a man marries you, it means you… you belong to him. And he belongs to you, sort of. You don't make love with anyone else. It's a lifelong bond.”

“Why?”

Phaedra just stared for a moment. Bandu thought she had heard, but she repeated herself anyway just in case.

Phaedra wrinkled her brow. “Why is it lifelong, you mean, or why don't you make love with other people?”

Bandu nodded. “Yes,” she said.

Phaedra looked a little horrified. “Because… because you've shed your blood with him! It's sacred!”

Sacred? Oh! “The Gods are angry?” she asked.

“Yes,” Phaedra said, sighing. “Yes, it makes Them very angry.”

“Why?”

“It just does. It insults Them.”

It seemed to Bandu that the Gods were getting worse and worse. What business did they have deciding how people mated?

Hunter was listening to them, she noticed, though he was pretending not to. He was done with the tent, but he was still walking slowly around it and looking it up and down, as if he thought he might have made a mistake somewhere.

Phaedra was too frustrated and confused to notice. She saw Bandu looking elsewhere and asked, “What part don't you understand?”

Bandu blinked, and looked back at her. “I marry because I hurt every time I make love with a new man? Or because Gods want me only with Criton?”

Phaedra shook her head. “No, no, you're not listening hard enough. I thought I said, you can only lose your maidenhood once. After that, lovemaking won't make you bleed. But when you've lost your maidenhood, your virginity, you can't marry anyone except for the man who took it.”

“Because then Gods kill me?”

Phaedra looked a little angry. “No, Bandu, because no man will want to marry you then. They only want to marry you if you're a virgin.”

“Oh,” said Bandu. She continued slowly, carefully. “So men only marry if virgin, but Gods only kill if I marry wrong person. If I don't marry, then is safe.”

She was sure she had understood it this time, so why was Phaedra getting angrier?

“No, Bandu,” she said. “You have to marry. If you make love to a man but don't marry him, you're no better than a prostitute!”

Bandu scratched her head. “Do Gods kill them?”

“No!” Phaedra nearly screamed. Then she turned and saw Hunter nearby, and lowered her voice. “Bandu, it's not about the Gods this time, all right? The Gods don't kill prostitutes. Oh, hold on, I should have said – 'prostitute' is another word for whore. Sorry if I confused you. The important thing is that men don't take care of prostitutes, they only pay them. Men take care of their wives, the women they marry.”