Louise Cooper - Indigo 06 - Avatar by Louise Cooper - Indigo 06 Page B
Authors: Louise Cooper - Indigo 06
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warning frown, at the same time nodding expressively in Uluye’s direction. Yima flushed, made an apologetic gesture to Indigo and moved away. Indigo stared after her, alarmed by what she had said. The dead rising from the lake? Surely that couldn’t be literally true. She tried to catch Shalune’s attention, wanting to whisper an urgent question, but Shalune either didn’t see or felt it prudent to ignore the signal.
Grimya was still staring at Uluye, who now was repeating the question-and-answer ritual with a spindle-shanked old man, and Indigo asked silently: Grimya, did you hear what Yima said ?
I heard. But I don’t know what she can have meant . The wolf darted Indigo a quick, troubled look. You don’t think that it could be true? That the dead will really return ?
I don’t know. I truly don’t know.
The old man had been dismissed to stand with the still-weeping girl; two more people were coming forward. The clouds of incense were thickening with no breeze to carry them away; the smell was acrid in Indigo’s nostrils and becoming unpleasant as it mingled with the tarry stink of the torches. She already felt a little disoriented—there was a narcotic in the incense, she was sure—and the scene and the atmosphere were beginning to take on a dreamlike tinge. At all costs, Indigo thought, she must keep her wits. She had to discover the truth about this rite; whether it was a simple trick to soothe the bereaved and frighten the troublesome, or something more sinister.
Six supplicants had now brought their offerings to Uluye, and a seventh was led before her. The sound of Uluye’s voice raised suddenly in anger alerted Indigo, and she looked up to see a scrawny woman cowering on her knees in the red dust with three other grim-faced people, two women and a man, behind her.
Uluye loomed over the groveling woman like an avenging angel. “Justice?” she roared, her voice carrying across the lake. “Justice, for a murderer of children?”
“I didn’t do it!” the woman whined. “He did it, he was the one! He said we could feed no more mouths, that seven was too many, that three must die! What could I do? I tried to stop him, but he beat me ... look, Uluye, see, here are the marks. I am only a poor, weak woman and he is so much stronger than I—”
Uluye interrupted chillingly. “Where is your man now? Why is he not here to speak for himself?”
“He ran away, Uluye. He ran away because he is guilty and he knew that you would punish him. He killed three of my children and he took the other four, and he has left me to mourn my little ones alone and uncomforted. See, see the marks he made on me, the scars—”
Uluye’s voice cut across her babbling. “Where are your offerings?”
The woman scrabbled in a bag she carried and brought out a parcel and a water skin, but she held them close to her breast, clearly reluctant to proffer them to the priestess. “I have brought them. Food and drink. Look, I have them. But they have cost me dearly; I must go hungry now, for my murdering husband has left me with nothing. Have pity on me, Uluye; have pity on me!”
Uluye stared at her for a long moment. Then, very slowly and deliberately, she reached out and plucked the offerings from the woman’s hands. She unwrapped the bread, unstoppered the skin. She ate. She drank.
The supplicant’s face crumpled into an ugly, childlike expression. She didn’t try to argue, but as her three companions—or perhaps, Indigo suspected, “guards” was a more apt word—took her to join the other postulants, her hands and feet began to twitch in mute but uncontrollable terror.
Uluye’s stare raked the gathering and she said with deceptive mildness, “Who is next?”
As the eighth candidate came forward, Indigo darted a glance at Shalune. The fat woman was watching her whilst appearing not to; Indigo signaled surreptitiously and Shalune edged away from her companion and sidled toward the litter, until she was just
Grimya was still staring at Uluye, who now was repeating the question-and-answer ritual with a spindle-shanked old man, and Indigo asked silently: Grimya, did you hear what Yima said ?
I heard. But I don’t know what she can have meant . The wolf darted Indigo a quick, troubled look. You don’t think that it could be true? That the dead will really return ?
I don’t know. I truly don’t know.
The old man had been dismissed to stand with the still-weeping girl; two more people were coming forward. The clouds of incense were thickening with no breeze to carry them away; the smell was acrid in Indigo’s nostrils and becoming unpleasant as it mingled with the tarry stink of the torches. She already felt a little disoriented—there was a narcotic in the incense, she was sure—and the scene and the atmosphere were beginning to take on a dreamlike tinge. At all costs, Indigo thought, she must keep her wits. She had to discover the truth about this rite; whether it was a simple trick to soothe the bereaved and frighten the troublesome, or something more sinister.
Six supplicants had now brought their offerings to Uluye, and a seventh was led before her. The sound of Uluye’s voice raised suddenly in anger alerted Indigo, and she looked up to see a scrawny woman cowering on her knees in the red dust with three other grim-faced people, two women and a man, behind her.
Uluye loomed over the groveling woman like an avenging angel. “Justice?” she roared, her voice carrying across the lake. “Justice, for a murderer of children?”
“I didn’t do it!” the woman whined. “He did it, he was the one! He said we could feed no more mouths, that seven was too many, that three must die! What could I do? I tried to stop him, but he beat me ... look, Uluye, see, here are the marks. I am only a poor, weak woman and he is so much stronger than I—”
Uluye interrupted chillingly. “Where is your man now? Why is he not here to speak for himself?”
“He ran away, Uluye. He ran away because he is guilty and he knew that you would punish him. He killed three of my children and he took the other four, and he has left me to mourn my little ones alone and uncomforted. See, see the marks he made on me, the scars—”
Uluye’s voice cut across her babbling. “Where are your offerings?”
The woman scrabbled in a bag she carried and brought out a parcel and a water skin, but she held them close to her breast, clearly reluctant to proffer them to the priestess. “I have brought them. Food and drink. Look, I have them. But they have cost me dearly; I must go hungry now, for my murdering husband has left me with nothing. Have pity on me, Uluye; have pity on me!”
Uluye stared at her for a long moment. Then, very slowly and deliberately, she reached out and plucked the offerings from the woman’s hands. She unwrapped the bread, unstoppered the skin. She ate. She drank.
The supplicant’s face crumpled into an ugly, childlike expression. She didn’t try to argue, but as her three companions—or perhaps, Indigo suspected, “guards” was a more apt word—took her to join the other postulants, her hands and feet began to twitch in mute but uncontrollable terror.
Uluye’s stare raked the gathering and she said with deceptive mildness, “Who is next?”
As the eighth candidate came forward, Indigo darted a glance at Shalune. The fat woman was watching her whilst appearing not to; Indigo signaled surreptitiously and Shalune edged away from her companion and sidled toward the litter, until she was just
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