Ki nodded in the dark. Her fingernails were biting into her palms. He seldom spoke of these things.
'He found women for me. Suitable women, he called them. Older women who had already borne children. Big-breasted, heavy-hipped women who would never miscarry or be taxed by childbirth. Women that filled me with awe.' Vandien swallowed. Ki listened to his long silence. When he went on, there was a falsely light note in his voice that cut her. 'My own mother had died when I was an infant. I didn't remember her at all. I'd been raised by my uncle, and been watched over by Dworkin, his man. I knew nothing of women, save what I'd heard whispered about. But I tried. By the Moon, how I tried. At first I could at least bed them, though I couldn't make one pregnant. But later, as I failed time after time, and the pressure from my uncle grew greater and the disdain of the women more obvious
'Vandien.' Ki couldn't listen to any more.
He stopped. For a long time, all was silent. She reached out to him, but stopped herself before she touched him. He lay so still, staring up at the sky. He took a deep breath. 'Then my cousin got a village girl pregnant. A wild, fey little thing, slim as a willow with big dark eyes. It seemed to take no effort at all for him. I saw then how deeply I had failed. And I did the only logical thing. I left my cousin to inherit, for we shared many ancestral names. And I took the names of my parents, Van and Dien, and ran away. My only regret is that I didn't run away sooner. I think I knew, even before I tried, that I would fail. Weak son of a weak line. My parents had produced only one child. With me, the line failed entirely. I was glad to disappear, and take my shame with me.'
'I'll bet your cousin was glad to inherit.'
Vandien rolled his head toward her. 'Of course he was. Don't think I haven't come to see that. I didn't when I was a boy, but in my years of wandering, my eyes have opened. The sooner I failed, the sooner my cousin could be made heir, to my father's lands as well as his father's and mother's. It turned his comfortable holdings into something just short of magnificent. A prize stroke of fate for him.'
And did you never think that your uncle had a hand in that fate? How old were you, Vandien? Twelve? Thirteen? A young stallion is not the most reliable stud, but that doesn't mean he never will be. A bullock, if too young, will not ...'
'I'm not that young anymore, Ki.' The smile he gave her was pensive, and affectionate. 'If I were able to father a child, I imagine you'd have a few by now.'
'I don't want any.'
'Liar.' Vandien sighed and took her hand. She let him hold it, but could think of no reply. 'It bothers me,' he said suddenly, 'what Goat does. That girl back there in Algona. Willow tonight. He takes something from them, Ki, and they may never even know they have lost it. That girl and Willow ... they will have memories that will intrude at times, spoiling a tender moment, stealing the shine from a precious thing ...' 'Like you have,' Ki said slowly.
He nodded. 'I should have run away sooner. But I didn't. And I can't stop what Goat does. I had started to like him, Ki. To think I could give him something he needed. And then, that girl... Keep him out of my path until we get to Villena. I won't be able to tolerate him after this.'
'I'll keep him out of your way. But I don't feel much differently myself.' Ki eased down beside Vandien. The night was mild and the earth warm. She lay beside him, not quite touching him, and the open night seemed cleaner and more wholesome than the camp beside the creaking wagon. She closed her eyes, thinking of Firbanks and the wainwright there. She slept.
'But you promised!' Willow's wail split the morning. It jerked Ki awake. She sat up with a start, then groaned, feeling she had torn loose every stiff muscle in her body. Dew had settled on her and chilled her. The crushed grasses beside her were the only sign of where Vandien had slept.
She clambered to her feet and stumbled toward the wagon. She splashed water from the cask over her face and hands, and then tried to make sense of the scene that presented itself.
Willow, her hair a tousled gleam in the new sun, was pouting prettily at a rumpled Goat. He was crouched by the fire, putting bits of twigs on the coals. Obviously they hadn't been awake much longer than Ki. 'You promised it to me,' Willow repeated, her voice husky with rebuke, and something warmer. Goat looked up at her and grinned. He spotted Ki and the grin grew wider as he rejoiced in his audience.
'I'll give it back to you,' he said in the sticky sweet voice one might use to a spoiled child. Willow brightened. 'But not just yet,' he teased for Ki's benefit.
'Goat,' Willow cajoled, and moved closer. A sly smile stole over his face as he stared at the fire.
'All right,' he told her. 'Close your eyes, then.'
He stood, dusting off his knees. He leered genially at Ki, but her attention was on Willow's face. Beneath the closed eyes, the mouth was a finely drawn line; above them, the brow was smooth. Like a sculpture, Ki thought, purged of human emotions and thoughts. Like an empty thing of stone.
Then Goat swooped his face in and kissed her. Willow's eyes flew open, and for an instant Ki read her face. Outrage, disgust, and horror. And then nothing. The face smoothed over as a mason wipes a trowel over damp mortar, smooths and seals it. Then, a smile, as empty as a limp wineskin. 'Oh, Goat, stop teasing me! You promised you'd give it back.' There was a purr beneath the whine that made Ki's stomach tighten.
'I will,' Goat promised her indulgently. 'But later, Willow. Later.' He hooked his arm around her and tugged her close. He turned his smile on Ki and she felt sick to be watching them. 'I see you're finally up, Ki. Well, I hope you and Vandien had as good a night as we did. Though I won't say we got a lot of sleep!' He cackled and hugged the girl closer. Willow's body went to his as if it were a sack of old clothing, neither resisting nor aiding the hug. Her face was empty and her eyes were careful.
The silence grew too long. There was nothing Ki could ask or say. Finally, she simply observed, 'We'd better get on the road if we want to be in Tekum today.' A ripple of despair washed over Willow's face and was gone, like a wave spending itself on a sandy beach.
No one seemed hungry, and Ki didn't bother with food that morning. She loaded the wagon, gatheringthe scattered mugs and the kettle, stowing it all neatly as Goat giggled and pawed at the passive Willow. Ki wondered what had become of Vandien, but she did not call. He knew where she was, and that the wagon must leave soon. Let him have this time to himself. He needed it so.
Then, as she brought the big grey horses up to harness, he was suddenly there. His cream shirt was sweated to his body, and his sheathed rapier was in his hand. Fencing with shadows, she guessed, slaying all the dark things that menaced him from his dreams. He moved Sigmund into the traces, pulling straps and fastening buckles. Their eyes met briefly across the wide backs. 'Hello,' he offered apologetically.
'You know we can't go to that festival in Tekum.'
'I know. I'm just keeping the skills sharp. In case.'
'Hmph,' she agreed skeptically. Then she turned at the sound of the wagon door shutting. She heard the ghost of Goat's high giggle, and knew Willow was inside with him.
'Shit,' said Vandien, with great feeling. Then he followed her up onto the high plank seat. She took up the reins as he settled beside her.
'We'll be in Tekum soon,' she promised him.
'Better late than never,' he conceded. Then he leaned back on the wagon and seemed to go to sleep. Ki started the team.
TEN
Some wise great-grandfather had planted saplings along the main street of Tekum. They were great grey-trunked trees now, offering shade and relief to eyes wearied by endless eddying prairie. Ki wondered if anyone remembered the name of the tree-planter, or even gave a thought to the man who had greened what was otherwise an unremarkable-looking town.