Fool’s Fate. Робин ХоббЧитать онлайн книгу.
Come on.’
She said it and it was so. Still, I held on to her hand and walked beside her. All around us, the water stretched out, glittering shoreless from horizon to horizon. Thick’s music was the wind blowing all around us. I squinted out over the water, wondering how we would ever find Thick in the trackless waves, but Nettle squeezed my hand and announced clearly through Thick’s wild song, ‘We’re very close to him now.’
And that, too, was so. A few steps more and she dropped to her knees with an exclamation of pity. The blinding sunlight on the water hid whatever she stared at. I knelt beside her and felt my heart break.
He knew it too well. He must have seen it, sometime. The drowned kitten floated just beneath the water. Too young even for his eyes to be opened, he dangled weightlessly in the sea’s grip. His fur floated around him, but as Nettle reached in to grip him by the scruff of the neck and pull him out, his coat sleeked suddenly flat with the water. He dangled from her hand, water streaming from his tail and paws and dribbling from his nose and open red mouth. She cupped the little creature fearlessly in her hand. She bent over him intently, experimentally flexing the small rib cage between her thumb and forefingers. Then she held the tiny face close to hers and blew a sudden puff of air into the open red mouth. In those moments, she was entirely Burrich’s daughter. So I had seen him clear birth-mucus from a newborn puppy’s throat.
‘You’re all right now,’ she told the kitten authoritatively. She stroked the tiny creature, and in the wake of her hand, his fur was dry and soft. He was striped orange and white, I suddenly saw. A moment before, I thought he had been black. ‘You’re alive and safe, and I will not let any evil befall you. And you know that you can trust me. Because I love you.’
At her words, my throat closed up and choked me. I wondered how she knew them to say. All my life, without knowing it, I had wanted someone to say those words to me, and have them be true and believable. It was like watching someone give to another the gift you had always longed for. And yet, I did not feel bitterness or envy. All I felt was wonder that at sixteen, she would have that in her to give to another. Even if I could have found Thick in his dream, even if someone had told me those were the words I must say, the words he most desperately needed to hear, I could not have said them and made them true as she did. She was my daughter, blood of my blood, and yet the wonder and amazement she made me feel at that moment made her a creation entirely apart from me.
The kitten stirred in her hand. It looked about blindly. When the little red mouth opened wide, I was prepared for a yowl. Instead, it questioned in a hoarse little voice, ‘Mam?’
‘No,’ Nettle replied. My daughter was braver than I. She did not even consider the easy lie. ‘But someone like her.’ Nettle looked around the seascape as if noticing it for the first time. ‘And this is not a good place for someone like you. Let’s change it, shall we? Where do you like to be?’
His answers surprised me. She coaxed the information from him, detail by detail. When they were finished, we sat, doll-sized, in the centre of an immense bed. In the distance, I could make out the hazy walls of a travelling wagon such as many puppeteer families and street performers lived in when they travelled from town to town. It smelled of the dried peppers and braided onions that were roped across one corner of the ceiling. Now I recognized the music around us, not just as Thick’s mother song, but also the elements that comprised it: the steady breathing of a sleeping woman, the creak of wheels and the slow-paced thudding of a team’s hoofbeats, woven as a backdrop for a woman’s humming and a childish tune on a whistle. It was a song of safety and acceptance and content. ‘I like it here,’ Nettle told him when they were finished. ‘Perhaps, if you don’t mind, I’ll come and visit you here again. Would that be all right?’
The kitten purred, and then curled up, not sleeping, but simply being safe in the middle of the huge bed. Nettle stood up to go. I think that was when I realized that I was watching Thick’s dream but was no longer part of it. I had vanished from it, along with all other discordant and dangerous elements. I had no place in his mother’s world.
‘Farewell for now,’ Nettle told him. And added, ‘Now remember how easy it is to come here. When you decide to sleep, all you have to do is think of this cushion.’ She touched one of many brightly embroidered pillows on the bed. ‘Remember this, and when you dream, you’ll come straight here. Can you do that?’
The kitten rumbled a purr in response, and then Thick’s dream began to fade around me. In a moment, I stood again on the hillside by the melted glass tower. The brambles and fog had vanished, leaving a vista of green valleys and shining rivers threading through them.
‘You didn’t tell him he wouldn’t be seasick any more,’ I suddenly remembered. Then I winced at how ungrateful my words sounded. Nettle scowled at me and I saw the weariness in her eyes.
‘Do you think it was easy to find all those things and assemble them around him? He kept trying to change it all back into cold sea-water.’ She rubbed her eyes. ‘I’m sleeping, and yet I suspect I’m going to wake exhausted.’
‘I apologize,’ I answered gravely. ‘Well do I know that magic can take a toll. I spoke without thinking.’
‘Magic,’ she snorted. ‘This dream-shaping is not magic. It is just a thing I can do.’
And with that thought, she left me. I pushed from my mind the dread of what might be said when she gave Burrich my words. There was nothing I could do about any of that. I sat down at the base of her tower, but without Nettle to anchor it, the dream was already fading. I sank through it into a dreamless sleep of my own.
Do not make the error of thinking of the Out Islands as a kingdom under a sole monarch, such as we have in the Six Duchies, or even as an alliance of peoples such as we see in the Mountain Kingdom. Not even the individual islands, small as they may seem, are under the sole command of any single lord or noble. In fact, there are no ‘nobles or lords’ recognized among the Outislanders. Men have status according to their prowess as warriors and the richness of the spoils they bring back. Some have the backing of their matriarchal clans to enhance whatever reputation they may claim by force of arms. Clans hold territory on the islands, it is true, but these lands are the matriarchal farmlands and gathering beaches owned by the women and passed down through their daughters.
Towns, especially harbour towns, belong to no single clan and mob law is generally the rule in them. The city guard will not come to your aid if you are robbed or assaulted in an Out Island town. Each man is expected to enforce the respect others should give him. Cry out for help and you will be judged weak and beneath notice. Sometimes, however, the dominant clan in the area may have a ‘stronghouse’ in the town and set itself up in judgment over disputes there.
The Outislanders do not build castles and forts such as we have in the Six Duchies. A siege is more likely to be conducted by enemy vessels taking control of a harbour or river mouth rather than by a force attempting to seize land. It is not unusual, however, to find one or two clan ‘stronghouses’ in each major town. These are fortified structures built to withstand attack and often having deep cellars with not only a well for water but also substantial storage for food. These ‘stronghouses’ usually belonged to the dominant clan in each town, and were designed more for shelter from civil strife than to withstand foreign attack.
Shellbye’s Out Island Travels
When I awoke, I could feel that the ship was calmer. I had not slept for many hours, but I felt rested. About me on the deck, men still sprawled, immersed in slumber as if they had not slept well in days, as was the case.
I rose carefully, bundling my blanket in my arms and stepping through the prone bodies. I put my blanket back into my sea chest, changed into a cleaner shirt and then went back on deck. Night was venturing