Star Hunters (19 page)

Kitosime smiled down at the boys sitting in a half circle around the powerstones. The small shrine was hot and stifling now that the rain had stopped, The boys shifted uneasily, their slit pupils almost round in the dim light. She bent over them and touched each upturned face, then moved back to stand in the open doorway. “You should be safe here. I'll lock the door.” She held up the large key. “Fa-men won't disturb a shrine. They may try the door. But you all keep very quiet and they'll go away again.” She touched the eyestones in the pouch around her neck. “I know it's not an easy place to be. But you are welcome here, I promise you.” She smiled at each in turn. “You all right?”

The boys nodded. But she could feel their discomfort as she shut the door on them and locked it. She looked up. A few drops fell on her face, but the clouds were shredded and the sun was hotter than before, leaching steam from the thatched roof of the shrine.

She walked slowly down the manstairs and stopped outside the dormitory. She pushed the door open. Mara and S'kiliza were finishing the last bed. Hodarzu sat playing with his blocks, content to be with the girls. Kitosime nodded at them. “Good,” she said. “You got up all the blood on the porch?”

Mara nodded. A small smile turned up the corners of her full mouth. “Wash whole porch with lye. No hound pick up scent there.”

Kitosime laughed, but shook her head. “If you want to join the boys.…”

Mara shook her head vigorously. There was a bright glitter in her indigo eyes. “Make fool of them, the.…” She couldn't find the word she wanted in her limited new vocabulary, but she projected a fierce hatred.

“S'kiliza?”

The younger girl grinned at her, came over, and took Mara's hand.

“Well, then.…” Kitosime sighed. “You know your roles. Mara, you're Bighouse girl and S'kiliza's your bound-girl attendant. She also takes care of Hodarzu. You know the discipline, both of you. Think carefully, my little ones. Can you hold in front of Fa-men?”

Once again they both nodded. Kitosime moved back to the door. “Mara, come to my room when you're finished here. We need to put the last polish on you. S'kiliza, take Hodarzu down to the water garden.” She studied the small, neat form in the plain dresscloth. “You look fine as you are, Siki. Don't let Hodarzu get you too mussed.”

In her own room on the floor below, she changed into her most striking dresscloth, a pattern of waterdrops in alternating white and black falling across wide diagonals of solid white and black. She had no one to help her dress her hair in its coils of small braids so she drew it into a tight spiraling knot on top of her head and twisted a gold chain about the spiral. She chose earrings to match, gold hoops that swung gently beside her neck. When Mara came in, she was buffing her nails. “Sit on the bed, little one,” she said. “Give me your hands.”

She took Mara's small hand. “Could be worse. You kept them washed, didn't you?”

Mara nodded. “Bad feeling being dirty. I hate it. But if I try to get in house.…” She shivered.

Kitosime began buffing the short, square nails. “It comes back fast now, doesn't it.” She finished with one hand and took the other. “I'll put on some henna when I've done your feet. Remember, Mara. Every move is studied, graceful. You are submissive in the presence of men, bending like a willow wand. Say nothing without thinking first. Do nothing without thinking first. Don't let them startle you into something unconsidered.” She set the small foot down then reached for the henna cream.

“I know, 'Tosime. As you say, it come back fast.”

The Fa-men came clattering through the arch, the hounds snarling before them. Four men clad in fine-dressed chul fur with blood-stained assegais slung across their backs, their burnished tips gleaming in Jua Churukuu's strengthening light. Their hair was braided as elaborately as a woman's, a silver ring hung from the left ear of each, arm rings of silver clasped around upper arms. And scars, four of them, slashed across the right cheek. They were images out of an almost forgotten past, creatures of the mythic time before the Families united and drove Watulkingu from its tribal anarchy.

Kitosime stood on the porch, a silent, elegant figure, her serenity forcing them to control their eagerness and adopt proper manners. The hounds ran at her. She didn't move, stood quietly waiting for the Fa-kichwa to call them off.

He heeled the faras forward, driving it between Kitosime and the hounds. With a doubled leather strap he beat them back and drove them out of the court. Then he rode to the foot of the stairs. He looked across at her, his eyes bold and appreciative. “I've seen you, lady. You're Kitosime the favored.”

She inclined her head but said nothing.

“Where is Old Man Kobe?” He scanned the court, then the face of the building. “Or are you here alone?”

She moved a hand in graceful negation. “My son stays with me, and a girlchild in my care with her bondservant. I know nothing of Old Man Kobe or the others. She in my care and I went with my son to Legba's shrine on pilgrimage. When we returned from the mountains, the Holding was as you see. The bondman serving us went to search for them and has not returned. We have been here since.” She spread out her hands, letting him see their lovely shape, the faint red stain of the henna.

“The hares walk, lady.”

Her hands fluttered in delicate helplessness. “Where would we go? We have been quiet and undisturbed here.”

He backed his faras up and reined it in to face Sniffer and Fireman and Second, then led it around until it stepped daintily in front of her again. “We trailed a wilding male here.”

“Here?” Her doll mask firmly in place, she fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Kobe's will is known. They wouldn't dare.”

He scowled at her, suspecting something was wrong. Some nuance in her behavior or voice it might be, or nothing at all. “Your son is here?”

“My charge and her bondservant have him in the water garden.” She stared past him out of the arch. “A wilding male?” She shivered delicately. “You tracked him here?”

The Fa-kichwa scowled in annoyance. “The rain washed away his trail, but he was close to this Holding.” He slid off his mount, motioning the others to follow his lead. “We're tired and wet, lady. A mug of cha would comfort us. As you say, Kobe's will is known in these things.”

Kitosime bowed her head, holding desperately to her doll mask, silently blessing the hard training Kobe had unknowingly given her. She led them to the kitchen and put water on to boil.
Meme Kalamah, give me strength
. She touched the eyestones in the neck pouch and felt them move warmly under her fingers. Comforted a little, she set four mugs on the table in front of men whose eyes watched her avidly.

She wanted to stand silent and let them wait until the water boiled, but that would be a flagrant breach of training, so she bowed her head over her hands. “Is there anything else I can find for you, eM'zeesh?”

“Food would be welcome, lady.”

She made an apologetic gesture. “I know little of cooking, eM'zeesh. But there is cheese and meat and bread.”

“Bring it, lady.”

She bowed again and left them, going to the cold cellar to fetch the food. With smoked kudu and cheese in a basket, she sank onto the bottom step of the stairs and stared into the chill darkness of the cellar. She didn't want to go back into that kitchen. “Meme Kalamah,” she whispered. “I'm afraid. His eyes, the way he looks at me … the way they all look at me.… He's still afraid to touch me, afraid of Kobe. But Kobe isn't here. How long will that fear last?” She bent over the basket, her hand closed over the pouch with the eyestones, a cold nausea twisting her stomach. “I can't bear it if he forces me.…”

After another minute, she wiped a hand over her sweating face. The children were depending on her. She touched the eyestones once more and climbed slowly up the stairs. The hand that pushed open the door was shaking. She paused a moment to discipline her body, then she glided into the kitchen and placed the food on the table in front of the men. She brought knives then stepped back. She was Bighouse. It wasn't her role to serve food. Backing away gracefully, she crossed to the outwall and stood close to the rough stone, like an elegant, blank-faced statue.
Carved by Kobe
, she thought.
Polished by time. Endless, unendurable time
.

The Fa-men ate in silence for several minutes, then the kichwa banged his mug down on the polished wood of the table. “You said your son is here, lady?”

“In the water garden with the boundgirl and she who is in my care.” She kept her voice low and musical, letting none of her tension show. There was a cold sickness in her stomach. She fought to control it as she waited for the man to go on.

“His father is suspect. Wild Ranger, running around out beyond the Jinolimas instead of following custom and working his father's land. Rumors say your son might be tainted also.” His fingers had tightened around the mug as if he were strangling something.

When she could trust her voice, she said quietly, “I am Kitosime the favored. So people lie.”

He nodded. “True, lady. Best the boy be tested.”

Kitosime's knees began to shake. Her hand closed over the eyestones. The feel of the talisman gave her strength. She raised her eyes. “The Old Man has plans for Hodarzu. He would not like being crossed.”

“Be at ease, lady. The testing won't hurt the boy. If he's free of taint, all the better to have it proved and mark the rumors for the lies they are.” His lips stretched into a travesty of a smile as his eyes followed the line of her body.

If he touches me, she thought, he'll have to kill me to keep Kobe from finding out. And the children … ah the children.… He's getting closer to it. Only his fear of Fa and Kobe holds him back now
. “I'll get him,” she said.

“No!” His eyes narrowed. He looked slowly from face to face. Second. Sniffer. Fireman. The Second was a chunky man with wild eyes. The paired scars on his cheek twitched continually. Fa-kichwa nodded at him. “Get the boy.”

Second rose and stumped out of the room. He seldom spoke and said nothing this time.

Fa-kichwa turned back to Kitosime. “Kobe's blood is good,” he said slowly, his eyes glowing with fanaticism. “But, by Fa's breath, if your son is tarred with wild, Fa's claim comes above all others. Old Man Kobe knows that well enough.” His eyes narrowed. His thin lips stretched into a significant smile. “You are young, lady. There will be other children. You might find a father for them with untainted blood.”

She kept her face still with an effort. “For my honor, Fa-kichwa, I may not understand you. For my father's honor.”

The door swung open and Mara came quietly into the kitchen. She held her head high and walked with careful grace. S'kiliza followed, Hodarzu's hand clutched tightly in hers. They crossed to Kitosime who came a few steps away from the wall to meet them. She was proud of them and knew that she felt that pride, that it strengthened her. S'kiliza came to her right and Mara to her left. She put a hand on each girl's shoulder and faced the Fa-kichwa. “This is not necessary.”

“Fa requires,” he mumbled. His eyes no longer caressed her. They were fixed on the boy, shining with a different kind of lust.
He wants Hodarzu to fail
, she thought.
He wants to see him writhing in the fire
.

She reached down and lifted her son into her arms. “The girls should not have to watch this,” she said firmly.

Fa-kichwa shrugged indifferently. “Let them go, then.”

Kitosime looked first at Mara then at S'kiliza. She felt their resistance and shook her head. “You must,” she said quietly. “Wait for us in the water garden.” She pushed Mara gently toward the door. “Siki, please.” She swung around and touched the smaller girl's cheek. “Go.”

Holding Hodarzu against her breast, she watched them leave, then turned to the Fa-kichwa. “This isn't necessary,” she repeated.

He ignored her words and held out his arms. “The boy.”

Kitosime backed away from him until she was pressed against the wall. “What are you going to do? I won't let you hurt him.” Hodarzu started crying, his first whimpers turning to full-throated howls as he responded to her terror and her anger. She tried to soothe him but couldn't soothe herself and that was the problem. His small body was warm and heavy in her straining arms. Abruptly she was angry at Kobe and Manoreh and every male ancestor for what they had done to her, were doing to her now, for keeping her ignorant and for despising her so thoroughly that her feelings and needs meant less than nothing to them—who not only tolerated but actively supported this abomination of bigotry and hatred, this blood and death in the name of morality, this denial of the gift of life.

Fa-kichwa snorted impatiently and pulled Hodarzu from her arms. The Second and the Fireman held her back as he took the boy to the center of the kitchen. Gasping, angry now almost to the point of the male blindrage, she fought against them, kicking, stretching her neck, to bite hands, arms, any flesh within range. All she achieved was the loosening of the rollknot of her dresscloth. She felt the cloth begin to slip and stopped struggling abruptly. To bare her body before these animals—the thought sent chills into her soul.

She straightened and stood still. Then she turned her head slowly to the Second. “Let me loose,” she said quietly, Kobe's daughter again.

“Keep your place, lady,” he muttered, but he took his hands off her arm.

She glanced at the Fireman and he stepped aside, releasing her. She tightened the rollknot and scabbed her broochpin through the folds. She deftly tucked back the hair pulled loose in her struggle.
Fool
, she thought,
all I have is Kobe's name to fight these carrion birds. No, double fool, I have this
. She closed her hand around the pouch with the eyestones and felt a stirring.