no'
mo'. Ali's a grown buck, an' he has to learn to look his fate in the eye. He cain't hide behind yo' fo'ever. Else he'll do somethin' we can't overlook, an'…" She shrugged. "Ahhh, well, run along an' try reasonin' with him. But think about it. Well talk it ovah mo'
tonight."
Johanna put the matter out of her mind as Rahksan left; time enough later. She could hear Olietta directing the wenches setting the table behind her, and glanced at her watch. 1258
hours; Tom would be in from the fields any time now. It was a house rule that the family ate together; otherwise you might as well be living in a hotel.
"C'mon, yo' two!" she called to the girls in the pool.
"That was fun," Yolande said, as they slid out of the water.
The verge was covered in the same blue-and-green New Carthage tiles as the pool; they felt warm and slick under her feet, and the dry air cooling on her wet skin. It had turned out to be a not-quite-hot day, just right for outdoors.
" Twas," Myfwany agreed. "I'm nevah goin' be able do that circle-flip like yo' can,'Landa."
Yolande grinned with pride as the servants came forward with towels; Bianca and Lele, her own. The deep pile of the cotton was a pleasure in itself, smelling crisply fresh and slightly of the cherry-blossoms they had been laid on in the
warming-cupboard. She had always rather enjoyed being dried; there was less distraction than when you had to do it yourself, and after a swim it made you feel tingly and extra clean. Like wearing new-laundered underwear, only it was your own skin.
She reached down and absently patted Lele's head as the Eurasian serf worked over her feet.
"How's Deng?" she said.
"Still poorly, Mistis. Gives many tanks fo' the crystallized ginger yo' sent up last month." Lele looked up and grimaced.
"Says he hasn't seen any since China. I tried it. I kin see why."
Yolande laughed and held up her arms for the serf to slide the Moorish-style striped djellaba over her head. The fine-textured wool settled against her skin like a caress, and she ran her fingers through the damp mass of her hair to spread it over her shoulders.
The serfs gathered up their towels and left; Myfwany looked up from adjusting her belt-tie. "Yo've got wonderful servants,"
she said sincerely, shaking back the wide sleeves. Disciplined obedience could be bought from any good labor agent, but enthusiasm was not as common. "Spirited but not spoiled."
"My parents' doin'," Yolande said in disclaimer. "They had the hard part, back right after the War. Had to kill a few, even; but now we go six months at a time without so much as a floggin'; Pa doesn't hold with whippin' much, says it's the last resort of stupidity an' failure."
"Good teacher still needs good pupil," the other girl replied with a slow smile. "Yo've got the nature, like Marsala wine: strong but sweet."
Yolande smiled back, and then the expression faded. There was a feeling like cold under her breastbone, yet it was hot as well, cramping her lungs. She could feel her lips paling, and her arms and legs wanted to tremble; her vision grayed at the edges until Myfwany's face loomed in a tunnel of darkening night.
There was a moment when the whole surface of her skin seemed to prickle, drum-tight, then the world snapped back to normal.
Or almost normal; the hot-chill sensation in her stomach settled lower and faded to warmth, and she put a hand to the side of her head, gasping for breath.
"Yo' all right? " 'Landa? " Myfwany's voice was sharp with concern, and she gripped her friend by the shoulders.
"I—yes, just felt funny fo' a second." She shook her head.
"Little scary… must've held my breath too long underwatah.
Anyways, let's go eat; I'm starvin'." She had, suddenly, a bottomless hollow feeling almost like nausea. It was worrying, even if they had only had rolls and fruit with their coffee that morning. No run, after all, and only a couple of hours in the water…
A serf struck with quiet precision at a tiny bronze
mo'. Ali's a grown buck, an' he has to learn to look his fate in the eye. He cain't hide behind yo' fo'ever. Else he'll do somethin' we can't overlook, an'…" She shrugged. "Ahhh, well, run along an' try reasonin' with him. But think about it. Well talk it ovah mo'
tonight."
Johanna put the matter out of her mind as Rahksan left; time enough later. She could hear Olietta directing the wenches setting the table behind her, and glanced at her watch. 1258
hours; Tom would be in from the fields any time now. It was a house rule that the family ate together; otherwise you might as well be living in a hotel.
"C'mon, yo' two!" she called to the girls in the pool.
"That was fun," Yolande said, as they slid out of the water.
The verge was covered in the same blue-and-green New Carthage tiles as the pool; they felt warm and slick under her feet, and the dry air cooling on her wet skin. It had turned out to be a not-quite-hot day, just right for outdoors.
" Twas," Myfwany agreed. "I'm nevah goin' be able do that circle-flip like yo' can,'Landa."
Yolande grinned with pride as the servants came forward with towels; Bianca and Lele, her own. The deep pile of the cotton was a pleasure in itself, smelling crisply fresh and slightly of the cherry-blossoms they had been laid on in the
warming-cupboard. She had always rather enjoyed being dried; there was less distraction than when you had to do it yourself, and after a swim it made you feel tingly and extra clean. Like wearing new-laundered underwear, only it was your own skin.
She reached down and absently patted Lele's head as the Eurasian serf worked over her feet.
"How's Deng?" she said.
"Still poorly, Mistis. Gives many tanks fo' the crystallized ginger yo' sent up last month." Lele looked up and grimaced.
"Says he hasn't seen any since China. I tried it. I kin see why."
Yolande laughed and held up her arms for the serf to slide the Moorish-style striped djellaba over her head. The fine-textured wool settled against her skin like a caress, and she ran her fingers through the damp mass of her hair to spread it over her shoulders.
The serfs gathered up their towels and left; Myfwany looked up from adjusting her belt-tie. "Yo've got wonderful servants,"
she said sincerely, shaking back the wide sleeves. Disciplined obedience could be bought from any good labor agent, but enthusiasm was not as common. "Spirited but not spoiled."
"My parents' doin'," Yolande said in disclaimer. "They had the hard part, back right after the War. Had to kill a few, even; but now we go six months at a time without so much as a floggin'; Pa doesn't hold with whippin' much, says it's the last resort of stupidity an' failure."
"Good teacher still needs good pupil," the other girl replied with a slow smile. "Yo've got the nature, like Marsala wine: strong but sweet."
Yolande smiled back, and then the expression faded. There was a feeling like cold under her breastbone, yet it was hot as well, cramping her lungs. She could feel her lips paling, and her arms and legs wanted to tremble; her vision grayed at the edges until Myfwany's face loomed in a tunnel of darkening night.
There was a moment when the whole surface of her skin seemed to prickle, drum-tight, then the world snapped back to normal.
Or almost normal; the hot-chill sensation in her stomach settled lower and faded to warmth, and she put a hand to the side of her head, gasping for breath.
"Yo' all right? " 'Landa? " Myfwany's voice was sharp with concern, and she gripped her friend by the shoulders.
"I—yes, just felt funny fo' a second." She shook her head.
"Little scary… must've held my breath too long underwatah.
Anyways, let's go eat; I'm starvin'." She had, suddenly, a bottomless hollow feeling almost like nausea. It was worrying, even if they had only had rolls and fruit with their coffee that morning. No run, after all, and only a couple of hours in the water…
A serf struck with quiet precision at a tiny bronze
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