“You all right, Fa?” Reyna touched her cheek. When she nodded, he set his hands on her shoulders, clicked his tongue at the weariness he saw in her. “You better scoot across. The sooner you’re in bed, the better, Fa.”
“Venia to that, Rey. Come on.”
“We can’t, Fa. Dawa and I, we’re sealed out.”
“What? Jea’s over there with his friend. If he’s all right, why not you?” -
“I can’t set foot on the Bridge. I tried, but there’s some kind of wall in the way. Looks like Jea was already across when it went up.”
“The Barrier. SHE said… but SHE couldn’t have meant you, you’re HERS, you always have been.”
“Not any more, apparently.”
Faan exploded. “It’s not FA AA AIR!” she shrieked. She yanked out handfuls of waxed hair, stamped her feet, whirled round and round-fury, fear and exhaustion-slammed her body into one of the pillars, beat at it with her fists until they bled-all of this the toll taken by the repression of her will to allow control by the god-flames spurted from her hands, her face, her clothing caught on fire-frustration, aggravation, vexation-she screamed, “NO NO NO NO!” It was NO to being stolen from her mother, NO to being different from everyone else, NO to daughterloving someone who’d been working hard at destroying himself, NO to everything horrible in her life, everything that piled up on her until she couldn’t breathe any more. All the NOs she’d been storing up since she came here.
Ailiki ignored the smolders and the giggling flame-lets; she leapt to Faan’s shoulder, pressed her body against Faan’s head, warm, furry, soft, draining off the fury.
With an absurd little squeak, Faan went still; she dropped her arms and stood trembling, smoke from burning cloth coiling up about her. Her eyes glazed over, rolled back. For the first time in her life, she fainted.
Reyna reached for her as she toppled, but she fell through the Barrier and his hands slammed into it. He beat his fist against the thing, cursing.
Dawa caught his arm. “Rey! Listen. Calm down, I’ll go get someone, she’s just fainted, she’ll be all right.”
Reyna swung round. “How do you know that? How the Jann do you know?”
“Well, yelling and thumping that thing isn’t doing much good, is it? Listen, Rey, I’ll go fetch old Utsapisha, I saw her out there watching the House burn.” He went running off, his long hair flowing out behind him in a blue-black wave.
Reyna opened and closed his fists a few times, then dropped to squat as close to Faan as he could get. She was breathing through her mouth, he could see the dust on the planks shifting with each breath. “Secrets,” he said. “Honey, what have you been up to? Why didn’t you tell me? I thought we were friends again.”
The gray dust danced with her breath.
Utsapisha lumbered up, leaning on Dawa’s arm, two of her granddaughters with her.
“Ijjit gods,” she said. “What Dawa here told us?” Reyna slammed his fist against the Barrier. It hit hard and rebounded.
“Hunh!” Utsapisha poked her finger at the Barrier. Her hand went through as if it didn’t exist. “Like I said.” She waddled up-the easy slant, grunted onto her knees beside Faan, thrust two thick fingers under the girl’s jaw. “Verna. Good strong beat. No need to fuss y’se’f, Rey. She jes’ fainted. Girls do that.” She put out her arms and her granddaughters hauled her onto her feet. “The Kassian’s across already?”
Reyna nodded.
“Verna. Then we’ll get her to Low City. You better duck, Rey. The two of you. Don’t let those STRIKER bassards get aholt a you, they gonna torch you like they did the Beehouse.”
Reyna nodded. “We’ll be down at Ladroa-vivi, send someone to tell me how she is, will you?”
“Sure. And don’t you worry, girls this age faint when they feel like it, don’t do ’em no more harm than a night’s sleep.”
› › ‹ ‹
When Faan woke, she was in a strange bed, rain pattering against the window across the room; Tai was bending over her.
“Rey?”
“Hush, honey. You’re exhausted. Sleep and we’ll talk tomorrow.”
Faan moved her mouth; she meant to protest, but instead sank into a heavy sleep.
Goddance. The Twelfth Year
Honey Mother hums an angry scratching hum; she dances faster, flipping the fimbo about, jabbing at Chumavayal, never quite touching him again. Lightning jags from the tip, lacing a web of light about the broad black body of the Iron Father.
Penhari Banadah is moved onto the playing field, a potential queen ranging behind the Honeychild. The women of Bairroa Pill watch their altars burn, then take their children across the Wood Bridge and settle in the low stone houses built around the Abey Groves.
Iron Father’s eyes burn red; his fire breath envelopes the Honey Mother, turns the Forge iron cherry red, sends the Fire tongues reaching for Abeyhamal, jabbing about her body, not quite touching her.
The Cheoshim STRIKER bands march to the Prophet’s calling, flogging sinners and burning down Bee-houses. Wenyarum Taleza bows to his son.
Honey Mother raises her hum to a gale roar, her wings vibrate so powerfully they lift her off her-feet, she drives the fimbo high over her head as if she means to pierce the firmament.
Black clouds swirl violently above the ivory point; the air turns chill; the flames shrink back, huge chill drops rain onto the Forge Floor.
Iron Father opens his mouth wide, thrusts his red tongue out and out. He clangs Hammer Head against
Saber. Red fire leaps from the dashing steel, turns the rain to steam, burns away the clouds.
And the GodDance goes on.
Through Surrogate and Principal, the GodDance goes on.
Sibyl
The Sibyl tucks in a fluttering veil and wearily declaims:
The wheel is turning, the Change is here
The New Order burgeons, the Old’s on its Bier
Amrapake’s fist grows tight
And catches naught in its grip
Round and round in torches’ light
The Anchorite strips kin-from-ship
Honeychild is Mystery
Feral Magic boiling free
The City burns with fire and fear
The Culmination hurries near.
› › ‹ ‹
I am tired, she says. She smiles ruefully. The verse is worse. Bad is one thing, but this is really stretching. She sighs, the flush of humor draining away. The life is going out of the Land.
My students are too busy for me these days. I miss them.
Juvalgrim fights the Shinda Prefecture and the Temple, together and separately; I fear that the forces assembling against him are building too strongly. He can’t last much longer.
Honeychild? She has a new guide. I am not allowed to interfere.
Diyo, I do miss them.
And I am afraid for them.
There’s a fire in Juvaigrim’s future; I can see him tied to a pole with the Prophet waving a torch in his face.
And Faan-the god will use her up and discard’her like a dirty rag, even her memories gone. As she already has discarded the Salagaum.
The Sibyl brings her fist down on the chair arm.
I can do nothing. I am tied to this place. I can do nothing but watch.
Her head falls forward, her hands drop in her lap.
A moment later, though, she looks up, a gleam in her black-opal eyes.
Mmmh, maybe a little more than watch…
When the cats are fighting, the mice run loose. We’ll see, we’ll see.
Chapter 14. Penhari Banadah Is Shaped For Service
The Amrapake used his toe to stir Penhari’s unconscious body, pulling a groan out of her,.a twitch of her fingers, but nothing more. He smiled sourly, dropped the bloody flagellum on her back. “Should’ve done that years ago.” He looked at his hands, rubbed them together. “Wenyarum! Towel. Why do I have to ask?”