Maypong would hardly have known Aramee socially. Maypong was of the palace.
The hut door darkened. Inside stepped a woman of bearing. Her tightly wound hair glinted from sun leaking through the roof.
The hoda stood. Then, furtively, she signed to Gilar. Cry later. <
The Mistress Aramee approached the hammock where Gilar reclined. She kneeled next to her with a pleasant expression on her face. “Open your mouth, Gilar.”
The hoda urged Gilar with her eyes, pleading for her to be obedient. Gilar opened her mouth to let Aramee inspect her wound.
The mistress peered closely, her scent coming strong to Gilar's nostrils. Aramee nodded and gestured to the slave, who placed a cup in Aramee's hand.
“You are well enough to drink your cleansing broth.”
Cleansing broth.
It was the potion that all hoda drank, to make them clean. Gilar's hand shook as she took the cup. She paused. Perhaps she would hurl it in Aramee's face. Perhaps she would spill it in her own lap. The moment stretched.
Misunderstanding Gilar's pause, Aramee said, “It will sting for a moment. Soon over.” Her attempt at kindness made Gilar's stomach sour. That she thought Gilar needed
kindness.
Tipping her head back, she swallowed the potion all at once. She cared little for the medicine's effects. What was left of her tongue burned molten as the liquid passed over it. She gulped hugely, keeping her face calm. The potion could have no effect on her whatsoever. Gilar was not born to bear. Not.
Aramee took the empty cup, looking at it to be sure nothing remained.
At the door the mistress turned around. Gilar raised her chin, waiting for Aramee to give her some due, something to recognize that she now had a slave who had been raised in the palace.
But all she said was “It is a nice, straight cut. I will thank the judipon for you.”
Gilar stared at the doorway for a long while.
Beside her, the hoda signed, My name is Bahn. Where you are now, so it was with me one year ago.<
Gilar hardly registered this information. Take me to the door, Bahn, so I can look out.<
Bahn helped her rise and move to the doorway Gilar moved as though she was underwater. Drugged.
Leaning against the post of the door, Gilar saw the wide mud yard, baked dry the huts with neatly stacked equipment, children running, followed by their bald hoda nursemaids. In the rear, the sprawling hut of Aramee and her female kin.
It is a fine compound, Gilar. Aramee is good, you will see.<
Gilar stared at Bahn. But I am not a hoda.<
Bahn slapped her. Not hard, but the slave actually slapped her. The pain sent a wave of protest to the back of her skull.
Never say that again. <
The blow calmed Gilar. She was now able to look at Bahn with patient hatred. Bahn who dared strike her. Bahn with her smooth skull. Someday, Gilar knew, she would look just like that, when the potion took her hair away. But inside, Gilar would never be a hoda.
She was palace-raised. These people would have to learn that.
FIVE
In the back of the skiff Nick peered out the gaps in the reed tent. The uldia hid him there, as eager as he was to keep this trip secret. This trip to Oleel's pavilion.
The view of the River Sodesh was altered from a week ago when he and Zhen had traveled to the shuttle landing site. Today the river flowed in a broad channel, and the land lay uncovered on either side, still swampy in places, but busy with farming activity.
It had been an instant's decision. Nick had been walking through a glade in the palace compound. A boat appeared from under a bridge, and an uldia asked him if now would suit him to interview the chief uldia. A boat was waiting, with a privacy cabin in the stern, and no one around to observe. He found himself in the skiff crouching down to enter the reed enclosure. Perhaps his decision was propelled by the incident with the hoda and the wire cage, when Anton did nothing to prevent the mutilation, or perhaps it was the outbreak on the ship, or Maypong's new presence. He
The hut door darkened. Inside stepped a woman of bearing. Her tightly wound hair glinted from sun leaking through the roof.
The hoda stood. Then, furtively, she signed to Gilar. Cry later. <
The Mistress Aramee approached the hammock where Gilar reclined. She kneeled next to her with a pleasant expression on her face. “Open your mouth, Gilar.”
The hoda urged Gilar with her eyes, pleading for her to be obedient. Gilar opened her mouth to let Aramee inspect her wound.
The mistress peered closely, her scent coming strong to Gilar's nostrils. Aramee nodded and gestured to the slave, who placed a cup in Aramee's hand.
“You are well enough to drink your cleansing broth.”
Cleansing broth.
It was the potion that all hoda drank, to make them clean. Gilar's hand shook as she took the cup. She paused. Perhaps she would hurl it in Aramee's face. Perhaps she would spill it in her own lap. The moment stretched.
Misunderstanding Gilar's pause, Aramee said, “It will sting for a moment. Soon over.” Her attempt at kindness made Gilar's stomach sour. That she thought Gilar needed
kindness.
Tipping her head back, she swallowed the potion all at once. She cared little for the medicine's effects. What was left of her tongue burned molten as the liquid passed over it. She gulped hugely, keeping her face calm. The potion could have no effect on her whatsoever. Gilar was not born to bear. Not.
Aramee took the empty cup, looking at it to be sure nothing remained.
At the door the mistress turned around. Gilar raised her chin, waiting for Aramee to give her some due, something to recognize that she now had a slave who had been raised in the palace.
But all she said was “It is a nice, straight cut. I will thank the judipon for you.”
Gilar stared at the doorway for a long while.
Beside her, the hoda signed, My name is Bahn. Where you are now, so it was with me one year ago.<
Gilar hardly registered this information. Take me to the door, Bahn, so I can look out.<
Bahn helped her rise and move to the doorway Gilar moved as though she was underwater. Drugged.
Leaning against the post of the door, Gilar saw the wide mud yard, baked dry the huts with neatly stacked equipment, children running, followed by their bald hoda nursemaids. In the rear, the sprawling hut of Aramee and her female kin.
It is a fine compound, Gilar. Aramee is good, you will see.<
Gilar stared at Bahn. But I am not a hoda.<
Bahn slapped her. Not hard, but the slave actually slapped her. The pain sent a wave of protest to the back of her skull.
Never say that again. <
The blow calmed Gilar. She was now able to look at Bahn with patient hatred. Bahn who dared strike her. Bahn with her smooth skull. Someday, Gilar knew, she would look just like that, when the potion took her hair away. But inside, Gilar would never be a hoda.
She was palace-raised. These people would have to learn that.
FIVE
In the back of the skiff Nick peered out the gaps in the reed tent. The uldia hid him there, as eager as he was to keep this trip secret. This trip to Oleel's pavilion.
The view of the River Sodesh was altered from a week ago when he and Zhen had traveled to the shuttle landing site. Today the river flowed in a broad channel, and the land lay uncovered on either side, still swampy in places, but busy with farming activity.
It had been an instant's decision. Nick had been walking through a glade in the palace compound. A boat appeared from under a bridge, and an uldia asked him if now would suit him to interview the chief uldia. A boat was waiting, with a privacy cabin in the stern, and no one around to observe. He found himself in the skiff crouching down to enter the reed enclosure. Perhaps his decision was propelled by the incident with the hoda and the wire cage, when Anton did nothing to prevent the mutilation, or perhaps it was the outbreak on the ship, or Maypong's new presence. He
Similar Books
