Rufus went directly to a cluttered table in one corner. He drew up a small stool to it and sat, leaving Ki looking about the room, standing. For a moment his fingers played over some bits of paper and tally bars on the table. Then he turned his stool to face Ki again.
‘I shall speak Cora’s mind for her. I know what she would say. You are thinking of leaving,’ he accused her gravely. ‘Do not deny it. But I forbid you to do it, as head of the household you have sworn yourself to. Ki, I will not pretend to understand what went on last night. Lars has accepted the blame for it, and I am prepared to listen to one of his lengthy testimonials later. But it is you I must speak to about leaving. Enough shame hovers over us now. Will you make the disgrace complete? Yes, there were words, hard words, spoken against you last night. Lars seems to feel you are in danger. He does not seem to remember that the people here last night are your kinspeople. They may speak as they will to us, for they are family. Families make wild words within themselves. They mean nothing. But if Ki were to leave? Consider it. Consider it from their pain. You came and you hurt them and you left, with no indication of remorse. A harsh blow. And there are things left unsettled by Sven’s passing, things that your leaving would put in jeopardy. There is the land that was Sven’s, that would have been your children’s. You have a duty to it now.’
‘My duty is to my wagon and my road and my freight,’ Ki said quietly. ‘I acknowledge no other.’
Rufus sighed. He licked his lips and seemed to consider. When he spoke, it was as if he felt the words were too basic to need to be uttered. ‘My mother wanders in her mind, Ki. To be fair, I will tell you that it began months ago, long before your news or your singular performance last night. But this may have been the final unhinging. The family knew that last night. So, I take up the reins, as you might say. You speak of duties, Ki. Of all that sat at that table last night, there is not one whose well-being does not rest upon me. My brother Sven was happy to wed you and to rattle off down the road with you, to make his living as a common teamster. To let the lands committed to his trust lie fallow, when they should have been producing. Then I was the one who had to think of duty. I kept the sheep and the kine, I tilled and planted his fields for him, giving to each what they needed, asking of each what he could give. Farming the land and feeding the family – this is not a thing like the turning of a wagon wheel upon the road. Rather, it is like the juggling at fair time, when one man keeps the plates spinning on the table and the balls flying in the air at the same time. It is a constant watching, a touch here, a flip there, and never, never an unwary resting. Someone must treat with the Windsingers for fair weather, must make the trades with the Dene and Teheria for that which we cannot produce ourselves. Fields must be tilled and planted, buildings repaired, cattle bred and slaughtered. That is what Sven left to Lars and me. Lars was too young to be more than a puppy at my heels. It has worn my mother out to carry it on, past the years when she should have been sitting before a tapestry, or rocking her youngest grandchild to sleep. It has driven Holland from my bed (yes, I saw your look) and made my sons but my apprentices. It has been heavy on me. I have not minded. But the time for it is past. You are a capable woman. Sven is gone, but Lars is here. This is an unseemly time to say this. But time is no longer waiting on my convenience. Heal the rift, Ki. Be one of us.’ Rufus paused, watching Ki gravely.
Ki fluttered her hands before her, indignation drowned in confusion and disbelief. She walked slowly to Rufus’s narrow bed, seated herself upon it. ‘You ask the impossible of me, Rufus. I don’t see what my staying here will solve. I cannot. I will not. I will not be hasty, or rude. I cannot even find anger at your assumption of authority. In truth, my temper has been drowned in grief. I am past anger such as that. I am tired of my own emotions. Since Sven passed I have been strung like the strings of a harp tree, and every breeze has played upon me. I have nothing left in me, of anger, or pride, or gladness. So, I will simply tell you I cannot. I cannot drop my life strings and take up others, to weave a pattern not of my own choosing. Least of all will I live among people who despise me. Three days I will stay, for I do not wish to leave so sour. But that is all I give.’ Ki rose and walked to the door.
‘And what of the lands?’ Rufus demanded. Ki turned at the panic in his voice. ‘A full sixth of the lands rests in your hands. Many are watching how they will fall. I do not have the money,’ Rufus gestured at his tally sticks, ‘to buy Sven’s land from you. For, if I give you the money the family has, what will we use to buy good winds and fair weather from the Windsingers? What is the sense of land with harsh winds blowing across it, drying it out, and whirling the top soil away? And what is the sense of fair weather if the land that basks in it is no longer ours to plow? You must see the dilemma!’
‘I am no farmer. I make no claim to your lands. I have no use for more ground than will fit under my wagon.’
Rufus shook his head stubbornly. ‘It cannot be done that way. You cannot walk away from it. The land must be paid for. Such is our custom.’
‘Damn your customs!’ Ki cried wildly. ‘Look what they have done to me! Look what they have done to us all!’
‘Without customs, we are nothing. Not a people.’ Rufus and Ki both turned incredulous eyes to the door. Cora’s eyes were weary but alert. She leaned on the doorframe, catching her breath. Her pale lips smiled at Rufus’s look.
‘I asked you to bring Ki to me. Not take her off and badger her until she gave way to your will.’ Slowly Cora shuffled across the flagged floor to seat herself heavily on the foot of Rufus’s bed. Her breath came in harsh pants. No one spoke. Ki agonized over the effort she put into each inhalation.
‘Boys never change, even when they are grown to be men.’ Cora managed a brief smile. ‘I remember a time when I gave each of my sons a switch and sent them out to bring the chickens in. Sven rattled his along the ground, spooking the birds along. Lars waved his in the air, forgetting his task entirely. But Rufus used his to knock the tail feathers off two of my best cockerels.’ She smiled again. ‘He bullies still.’
Rufus opened his mouth angrily. Cora fluttered a hand at him. ‘Hush! I am too weary to be arguing with you. I sent for Ki. She shall help me back to my room. This rock you call a bed offers me small comfort here.’
Abashed by her unexpected rescuer, Ki rose. Cora’s hand on her shoulder was the weight of a bird. Slowly Ki guided her down the hall, back to her bedroom. An imperious wave of Cora’s hand sent Holland scuttling from the room. Sighing heavily, the old woman seated herself upon the bed, then leaned back into her pillows.
The ensuing silence was difficult for Ki. Cora was occupied with breathing. Ki looked about the room at the heavy drapes and tapestries, at the bulky carved wooden furniture, and back at the heavy coverings Cora drew across her legs.
‘You would be better outside, resting on a blanket over fresh hay, in a shady spot. The clean air would renew your strength.’
Cora smiled mirthlessly. ‘The scandal of such a sight would renew the tongues wagging. Then they would all be even more convinced that my mind had begun to wander. You needn’t look embarrassed, Ki. I know Rufus believes it is so. I spend too much time sitting silently, smiling to myself. And I take too much from the flocks and herds, so that I may visit the Harpies and pretend that I am not a sagging old woman. At least the inroads I make on the animals will cease for a time. He will be happy of that small good from the ill winds that swept us last night.’ Cora paused, and subtly changed the subject. ‘Last night revealed one thing to me, Ki. You’re a strong woman. Stronger than even I suspected. And I know how you sheltered Sven and the children. We have need of such strength here.’
Ki bowed her head to the compliment even as she squirmed uneasily at what was coming. ‘My “strength” did much harm last night, Cora. I would like you to know …’
Another wave of the hand. Veins and tendons stood out on the gaunt fingers. Age was nibbling the flesh from Cora. ‘I sensed your confusion and struggle last night. Two joined as we were in leading the Rite have few secrets from one another. I felt your fierce love for my son and your children. It is a great comfort to me to know he was so well loved.