'Gone? Gone where, exactly?'
Again that shrug, as though everything was hopeless.
'He's left the city to take up some… apprenticeship.'
'What?'
The pain in his side suddenly worsened. He deliberately slowed his breathing as he waited for her to answer. It was clear that Reese wanted to say more, but she hesitated in her response, then seemed to give up on the effort, as though it was too ridiculous to voice aloud.
'Have you heard from him? Is he well?'
She didn't seem to know.
Normally, Reese could talk easily with Bahn. They had a closeness of sorts, an openness that had intensified after his brother Cole had left her, Nico's father, as though this shared loss allowed them to share other things of intimacy and worry. They often spoke of Cole, sharing what little rumour they had heard of him from old veterans they had run across, or who had visited on purpose with some news. Cole's last-known trail had led to Pathia, where, it was rumoured he had been hanged for a highway robbery, though others claimed he was now a longhunter, crossing the mountains into the world of the Great Hush, to live wild there for months on end. How unhinged he must have become, Bahn often considered, to have abandoned a woman such as this to go and live in the wilderness by himself.
The pain in Bahn's side had now spread into his bladder. He needed to relieve himself. Cursing his body for its poor timing, he excused himself and stood up.
'Are you all right?' Reese asked him.
'Yes. Just a few sore ribs, I reckon.' He did not wish to mention the tunnels, with their inevitable reminders of Cole.
Bahn made his way down to the backyard privy and found that he was pissing blood. With his tunic hauled up and clenched in his teeth, he probed the ugly bruises on his side, and checked once more for any fractured ribs. Contenting himself that they were all still intact, Bahn swept back his hair, smoothed down his tunic, and turned to go.
As soon as he returned to the balcony he wondered if it had been a mistake to leave his sister-in-law on her own. Reese still sat with one arm resting on the wooden rail, and the other holding the cup in her lap, but was now surveying the tree-lined street with a brooding stare.
She didn't seem to notice as he sat himself down again gingerly. In anyone else he might have suspected this behaviour as some sort of self-indulgent drama – but not in Reese.
'What are you thinking?' he asked her, softly.
She turned back to face him, her brief smile holding something of an apology. The cup of chee now seemed forgotten in her hand.
'I was just thinking… I was thinking how Nico and Cole are both gone now.'
Her voice was quiet, restrained. Bahn was reminded of the faint yelling of a man trapped in the earth, with nothing to see or feel or hear but the darkness all around him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Sisters of Loss and Longing The sister moons shone overhead in a dark, star-spattered sky. They rose with a fullness that narrowed the eyes – one dusty white, the other blue – and they climbed together on a course that took them partially along the Great Wheel, the visible galactic core, obscuring that vast stain of starlight. Only once in a year did the two moons rise together in all their fullness and, in doing so, they heralded the coming days of autumn. Perhaps it was the reason they had been given their names: the Sisters of Loss and Longing.
The two figures hiking up the hill were small and insignificant beneath this vista of galactic sky. The night was bright enough to see the ground in front of them, and they walked with their heads down, watching their footfalls, thoughtful. Because of this, it was almost a surprise to them when they drew up before the tiny shack at last, noticing it squatting there in the dimness all of a sudden, set against a sound of coursing water that was reminiscent of flames snapping on a distant fire. There was no fire lit in the tiny hut tonight, but a single lantern burned within, spilling a tongue of welcoming yellow light through the mouth of the open doorway. Without hesitation they followed it inside.
The Seer sat cross-legged upon a mat on the floor, a book lying open on his lap. He was squinting down at it through a pair of exceedingly thick-glassed spectacles, as one hand scratched idly at his lice.
It was some time before he acknowledged his visitors, and Nico stood there with dwindling patience, willing Ash to at least clear his throat and announce their presence.
When the Seer looked up at them at last, he smiled and set the book carefully to one side amongst a stack of others. He beckoned them to sit.
Ash began to speak. The older man nodded, listening closely, occasionally exchanging a question for an answer. Their words were soft, respectful of the night hush around them. The old Seer did not seem to be bothered by this late-night intrusion; rather, he seemed to welcome the company. It was as though he had been expecting such a visit from one of the Rshun tonight.
As he and Ash finished their conversation, the Seer gathered up a varnished featherwood box from one corner of the shack, and settled it on the floor beside him. Items appeared from the box in his trembling fingers, and Nico examined them closely as they were arrayed upon the mat.
A square of black slate lay with a lump of chalk resting upon it. Beside these, a bundle of what looked liked dried reeds, each about a foot long. They were left untouched for some minutes as the Seer composed himself with a series of carefully focused breaths. Then he announced his readiness to proceed by a swift clap of his hands.
As he set to work, his hands moved fast for one of his age. He began by tossing the bundle of reeds against the mat, and quickly sweeping a hand across them to divide the resulting pile in two. He then gathered up the right pile and, in a blur of motion, flicked reed after reed from one hand into the other, stopping each time he was left with four or less in his right hand. As he did so, he would lodge the reed or reeds between two of his fingers, and he would begin the whole process once more, minus those ones already singled out.
Once all five fingers held reeds between them, he stopped to count how many there were. The resulting number seemed meaningful in some way. He chalked a mark on the slate – just a single line – and threw down the reeds to begin all over again.
It was a lengthy process, during which the Seer would occasionally scratch another line of chalk on the slate, either a solid line or a dash, which gradually built up into a series. Nico lost track of time and his eyes were already drooping when the Seer finally appeared to reach the end of his task, with six lines in all now scratched on the slate.
The old man squinted down at the results, muttering to himself.
'Ken-yoma no-shid,' he offered Ash. The Rshun nodded earnestly in response.
The Seer rambled on, outlining what he foresaw. When he paused again to study the slate, Nico whispered to Ash for a translation.
Ash was annoyed at this interruption, but a look into Nico's tired eyes seemed to soften him, enough to offer a brief explanation.
'I ask how we will fare on this vendetta. He tells me of thunder, shock – how some shocking event will lead to a great course of action. Now hush, he comes to the crucial part.'
'After shock, you will have two paths facing you,' the Seer announced in sudden, perfect Trade, his eyes glancing at Nico before returning to meet the intense gaze of Ash.
'By taking one path, you will fail in your task, though with no blame and much still to do… On the other, you will win through in the end with great blame, and nothing that would further you.'
Ash considered this divination. He cleared his throat. 'Is that all?'
The Seer smiled kindly, but did not reply.
They left soon after that, bowing and scraping their way towards the doorway. As Nico turned away from the Seer, he shouted after him, 'Boy!'