‘Race along like that, and every crystal will be shattered before you get to the shed,’ warned a voice behind her.
She slowed her pace and looked back. Haftor toiled along, a bucket dangling from each hand. He looked out at her from his dark, beetling brows and grinned to soften his words.
‘Do you know how they speak of us?’ Ki found herself asking him angrily. The dammed-up anger burst in her. She let it flood her mind with the more personal affront she felt, letting it wash her thoughts away from circling Harpies and sharp talons.
Haftor shrugged under his burden, allowed himself a small chuckle. ‘Does it bother you, Ki, to have your name linked with mine? You have never spoken of it before. I thought you were unaware of it. A vainer man would believe that you approved the talk. But it is easily resolved. Wait until you’ve an audience, then put your fist in my ugly face. No woman will blame you for it. It will give them something new to talk about.’
Ki looked at him incredulously. ‘Does it not bother you, Haftor, to have every tongue forking over your personal life as if it were their manure pile?’
Haftor stopped, set down his buckets to get a fresh grip, and then moved on. Ki followed him.
‘People have “forked over” my life since the day Marna and I were brought here as children. Most felt that Cora took us on out of the charity of her heart. Only Cora seems never to have seen it so. So, walk with me or poke me in the eye. They will talk about us, either way. Only the tone of the gossip will change. So,’ his tone suddenly became lighter, and he turned to toss Ki a smile, ‘why not give them something to jabber about? When will you come to my sister’s house to visit and admire the work of her hands? From her forge and anvil come the best metal-working the family has ever seen. She has never given them cause to regret taking us in.’
‘I am sure neither of you has ever done so,’ Ki hastened to reply. It was the first time Haftor had ever spoken openly to her of the matter. Ki had never understood what there was about the subject that made it seem forbidden. But she felt the mention of it drew her onto shaky ground.
The hanging shed loomed up before them. The door was ajar, and Ki could see within to long poles that spanned the interior and supported the glistening crystals on their cords. ‘I will come to see you and Marna when Rufus leaves me time free. Perhaps Marna would work some metal for me? I’ve little to trade, except a share of the metal itself. It’s silver, and fine but I’ve no use for it as a silver mug. It takes the heat of the drink too well and burns my hand.’
‘I’m sure she would be pleased to do it for nothing. She gets little chance to work with fine metal and takes pleasure in good materials. What will you have her make from it?’
They had reached the door of the hanging hut. Ki set down her heavy bucket. She folded her mouth, her face thoughtful. ‘Almost, Haftor, you make me forget who I am, and when. I had the mug for a long time, and often thought of a hair comb for myself and a wrist piece for Sven. Now I’ve no use for either. My hair is bound back in widow’s knots, and I shall not see that metal shine on Sven’s arm. Almost, almost, you make me forget.’
Haftor flushed unexpectedly at her words. A smile gentled his homely face. ‘Fetch the mug anyway, and bring it tonight to my sister’s house. Have your hair comb, and a wrist piece to fit yourself. Surely you shall not wear widow’s knots to the end of your days?’
She looked at him silently. She stooped and took a crystal on its line from her bucket. She reached to an empty spot on the pole and knotted the line about it. ‘I shall ask your sister to make me only the comb, and a wrist piece to fit herself. Or her brother, if she has no vanity for jewelry.’
Haftor looked deep into Ki’s eyes. Gentleness mellowed his face. ‘Ki, will not you tell me what troubles you today? A spattering of gossip, no matter how distasteful to you, could not pale your face this way.’
Ki folded her mouth narrowly. She stooped to her bucket for a fresh crystal, took her time to hang it. Where was her mind today, to let her face so mirror her distress? Damn Harpies and everything to do with them! She tried for a weary smile.
‘I am but tired, Haftor, in a peculiar way. The odors of the marsh make my eyes sting and my nose run. They make my head pound until my ears are filled with the sound of a thousand bees humming. I do not think this life suits my body. I find myself longing for the coming of the Rite Master, so that you all may make your Rite. Then I can go on my way with a good conscience.’
Haftor looked at the empty path behind him. He stepped inside the small hut, close to Ki. His eyes were darker in the dimness of the hut’s interior. His voice was low and urgent.
‘Go now, Ki. Go now!’
She stepped back from him, bewildered and frightened by his sudden intensity. He did not look completely sane, with his mouth set and eyes glowing so. She licked lips gone dry. ‘I cannot go now, Haftor, and keep my honor intact. I have given my word to Cora that I would stay. Would you have me break it?’
‘Yes! I would. But you, I fear, will not.’ He shook his head and cast his eyes down. The fierceness seemed to ebb away. ‘For your sake, I hope the Rite Master hurries. But he is an old man, and he will not hasten his rounds. He travels from town to town in the valley, catechizing the children and presenting them to the Harpies. As he did to me once.’ Haftor’s voice trailed away uncertainly, and he seemed lost for a moment in a memory. ‘Another month will find him with us.’
Ki wondered what he had recalled. Had older memories haunted Haftor as memories of him haunted Ki now?
A jolt to Ki’s ribs recalled her to the present. Vandien had stirred himself in his coverings to nudge her. Ki glanced up at the sky. No Harpy. And the sun was still high enough for them to travel yet a ways.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Tonight’s camp.’ Vandien had settled back against the cuddy door, but he pointed a gloved hand.
Ki looked. She saw no more than a wide place in the trail. True, the rock there overhung the trail a bit and was free of blue ice. But it was bare to the sky, a bad place to have to defend.
‘And if we push on past there – use up what daylight is left to us?’ Ki asked over the wind.
Vandien shook his head slowly, not even bothering to straighten up on the seat.
‘A narrower, more treacherous trail ahead, one best seen in full daylight. And no place to camp for the night, unless you want to light your fire on the trail before or behind us. Here at least you may unharness the team in a level spot and let them take shelter between the wagon and the cliff. Ahead, nothing.’
Regretfully, Ki pulled the wagon up in the wide space. She wanted to flee from the Harpy. Hopeless. It had always been hopeless. Even at a dead run on level ground, the team could not outdistance that winged death. Ki prayed for strong winds as she moved to unharness the team. A bitter smile twisted her lips. Did she think that Keeva would hear one who had forsaken the Romni ways?
The rhythm of camp-making took over her mind. Rub the team, blanket the team, shake them out a double measure of grain. She leaned on Sigurd a moment, feeling and hearing the steady munching as his dull teeth ground the grain. The inevitability of her own death settled over her like a cloak. It seemed to make the wind muffled, to make the nasty fingers of the cold more impartial. It dulled the old fear that nibbled at the edges of her mind. It was coming for her, as she had long known it would. Now it would be soon, and the waiting would be over. Ki would be glad when the waiting was done. She was weaponless on an exposed ledge on a mountain face. Let death be mercifully swift for her. She wondered if she would struggle at all.
A grim humor settled over Ki. It was as Haftor had said: You needed the bitter edges of life to make it real, to let you taste what was still sweet. She hugged Sigurd’s great shoulder impulsively. The beast veered away from her in surprise.