Angel-Seeker by Sharon Shinn Page B

another fifteen minutes, he was ready to go. He’d unhitched one of the horses from the wagon and fitted it with a makeshift bridle and saddle pack. Not that he had a saddle, since Jansai rarely bothered with such amenities. Just his food, his water, some bedding, a bow—and his firestick, Rebekah noticed from the back of the wagon as she watched him ride away. He might be planning to bring down game after all.
    Once he left, the others got down to the business of making a more permanent camp. They would be here two days at least, so they arranged the more mobile wagons around the one that had broken down, and the boys began to collect tumbleweed and dung for a small campfire. The women gathered in Reuben’s tent to look over their food supplies and gauge how much more they might need now that they would be on the road another two or three days. All the males were sent off hunting, the men in one party, the boys in another.
    â€œRebekah!” Jerusha called once the women were alone in the camp.
    She knew what was coming but did not feel like being cooperative. “What? I’m watching the baby,” she called back.
    â€œHe’s sleeping. I just checked him. Come out here.”
    Mutinously, moving as slowly as possible, Rebekah climbed from the front of the wagon. “What?” she said again, in a most unencouraging tone.
    Jerusha handed her a fistful of waterskins, all on long straps thatwould fit easily over her shoulders. Over a long distance, a woman could carry a dozen skins more comfortably than two buckets, and bring home more water once it was all measured out. “Here. The whole camp needs water. You know where that waterhole is that the men were speaking of?”
    â€œIt’s too far away,” Rebekah complained. “And it’s so hot. I’ll go when it’s cooler.”
    â€œYou’ll go now.”
    â€œWhat, we don’t have any water at all? In the whole camp?”
    â€œListen to me, my girl, we all have to do our share of chores, and your chore is to go fetch the water.”
    â€œI’m too hot. ”
    Jerusha snapped her hand out and gave Rebekah a little slap across the cheek. “We’re all hot. Soon we’ll all be thirsty. You go bring us water.”
    Rebekah cast a sullen look at the other two women, half-expecting one of them to speak up. No, no, Jerusha, let the poor girl rest in the cool of the tent till the sun has gone down. But they both just looked at her expressionlessly through the veils they had not taken off even after the men left the camp. None of them would reprimand Jerusha for the light blow or the firm stance. In fact, they would have treated their own daughters the same way.
    Rebekah jerked the straps from her mother’s hand. “Where is it, then? This stupid waterhole.”
    Simon’s wife pointed. “Straight that way. East about three miles.”
    â€œAnd don’t you dawdle on the way back,” Jerusha said in a scolding voice. Rebekah had already made up her mind that she would linger at the oasis till the sun went down. She could find her way back blindfolded over three miles of desert; she would have no trouble in full darkness.
    â€œAll right,” she said vaguely enough and leaned down to check her bootlaces.
    â€œAnd cover your face,” Jerusha added.
    Rebekah straightened and gave her mother a look of deep irritation. “All the men are gone. No one will see me.”
    â€œYou don’t know what other travelers might be about, campedby the waterhole. Jansai or even Edori. You don’t know. Wear your veil.”
    â€œI’ll bring it,” Rebekah said. “I won’t put it on unless I have to.”
    Simon’s wife came a step closer and ran her fingers lightly down Rebekah’s cheek. “Such soft skin,” she said in a whispery voice. “You put that veil on, now. You don’t want to ruin your complexion in the sun.”
    â€œKeep