Thesil and I stared as though the last month had never happened. As though the man that had died in front of us had been only a distant dream. I'd almost convinced myself of that, in fact. Almost told myself Amaz of the pilgrims had tried to murder us for no reason at all. There was no threat. There never was.
But of course the sickness had to come from somewhere.
"No cries it's impossible? Is your faith so frail?" I couldn't read her gaze on me. She seemed to both be scornful and hopeful all at once. Maybe she didn't know what to feel herself. I had come upon her without warning.
I drew myself up. "We encountered someone with it a few weeks ago. I thought it was an isolated case."
Her gaze sharpened. "Did you? Well, you were lucky, or you'd be dead by now."
"But other people have been dying from it?"
"Thousands."
"How horrible," I signed, and wondered what Thesil thought. She was too close to me; I couldn't see her and Grandmother at the same time.
Lira had pulled ahead. But now she stopped, leaning on her donkey's shoulders as if the Unknowns had just taken away her legs, too. Grandmother glanced at her with her mouth set in grim amusement. "He's told her now, I imagine."
I nodded. Did she fret her friends the pilgrims would suffer? The thought led me to Amaz and a sudden surge of guilt. Was this our fault? Thesil and I weren't sick. But Abursa had led the troupe onwards, to the Starred City. If they had carried the disease with them...
I shuddered. I tapped Grandmother's elbow to gain her attention. "How long has the plague lasted?"
She lifted a brow. "Since before the last moon waxed."
We had just left the camp when that happened. For a moment, relief overwhelmed me. The disease couldn't have started with our troupe.
But that meant it must have started elsewhere, and poor Damin had caught it at the Starred City. The troupe must have walked right into it.
My thoughts dwelled on Abursa and Frisa and her baby. Abursa had lived through death-palsy once. She would know enough to warn people. Perhaps she could protect them. Or perhaps we'd be the only survivors. We'd stayed in the desert with one dead man. She had marched them into the middle of far more.
When I opened my eyes again Grandmother and Thesil were talking, their hands moving with blurring frequency. Thesil was so fluent, compared to a week ago. She had learned our language so fast. The thought sparked pride in me, even now, when things were so dire.
They turned towards me as I stepped forwards. I signed, "Grandmother. This has been happening at the Starred City?" I hoped Amaz didn't lead his pilgrims there. I might dislike him, but they didn't deserve to die that way. No one did.
Grandmother signed, "Started there, but it's happening in the heart of every city I've heard of."
"How could it travel so fast?" Thesil demanded. "Someone infected would have to cross the desert to reach the other cities. Someone would've noticed."
Grandmother eyed her coolly. "All we know is that disease is springing up in the midst of the cities, yet no one's welcomed the infected into their homes first. They're quarantining as best they can. It isn't stopping the spread."
My heart felt like ice in my chest. "Then we aren't safe here, either?"
Grandmother's head tilted. "I never said that."
"We don't know what's spreading it."
"We know how to survive, out here. You two are just tired. Come. I'll find a house for you. Rank has some privileges."
Her steps were long, swaying gently as though she were a much younger woman. If my blood hadn't felt so cold, I would've been impressed. I wanted to look like that when I was old.
Except for the hair. As she glanced back to see if we were following, the sun gleamed off her bare scalp.
I signed, "Grandmother, wait. My girlfriend can't be around oracle ore. It makes her sick. Is there any at the house you're taking us to?"
Thesil shot me a grateful glance. We'd lost the medicine the healer had sent with us to Amaz. I couldn't afford to risk her.
Grandmother tilted her head. "I can find one without a trace. Don't you worry." She eyed Thesil. "I take it she won't want to see my mine, then?"
Thesil shook her head briskly, and Grandmother smiled.
"You will, though. If you're a granddaughter of mine."
I was curious, I admitted. And thinking of oracle ore made me remember my visions and the thick sense of wellbeing that came over me every time I sucked in a lungful of it. It made me think of the emptiness that had gnawed at my stomach since I'd last had it, which food and water hadn't filled.
"I'd be glad to see it," I signed. "Without Thesil. If I can rinse off after."
"Later," Grandmother signed. "You must rest first. And tell me..." Her hands stilled for a moment as her gaze roamed my face. "Who I've passed my blood on to."
#
The house was beautiful. Some builder had stacked slabs of stone into walls and counters inside, and thatched the roof in bark thin enough that the breeze blew in and the sun stained the edges between strips pale. It had a stone floor, the same flagstone that made up the walls, but the windows were free of glass. Instead, someone had glued sheets of mica together to form a patchwork glaze across the view of the town. In points, it was nearly invisible. In others, it was layered thick enough to tint the world golden as honey.
There was a huge bed, built of stone and topped with a mattress stuffed with goat's wool and quail feathers, which puffed out a small hole in one side. I longed to fling myself on it and bury my face in the blankets.
"You can stay here and have some privacy," Grandmother signed. "Leave the goose outside, if you don't mind."
"Thank you," I said. "You are very kind."
Thesil signed, "Who'd you displace to give this to us?"
"No one that should be your concern," signed Grandmother.
Thesil scowled. "That's not the sort of attitude I'd expect from the leader of this place. Your people don't deserve to be turned out of their own homes just because your granddaughter showed up."
I gaped at her. Did she want us to sleep in the dirt outside?
Grandmother's pale brows lifted. "Very true. That's why it's mine, ungrateful granddaughter-in-law."
Thesil looked taken aback. I nudged her and signed, "Don't mind her. Thesil is–"
"Rude?"
"She speaks her mind," I signed firmly.
Grandmother smiled. "How fortunate. So do I."
I signed, "You have a lovely house, Grandmother. But if you wish us to stay here, then where are you sleeping? The bed doesn't look large enough for three."
She grinned, showing a full set of teeth. "Don't worry. There's plenty of fellows around here happy as foxes to have me stay the night."
My cheeks flushed.
"But enough about that," Grandmother said. "You come here all unexpected, child of a daughter I haven't seen since she was a babe, and you think I want to talk about my love life?"
My face was hot as a brand. "No, Grandmother."
"Tell me of Ferime. Tell me everything."
So I sat on the edge of the bed, Thesil beside me, and I told Grandmother of my family. Of growing up deaf and hidden, shrouded in cloaks and masks. Learning signs and learning paints. Falling in love with painting, as anyone would've.
Thesil. And falling for her.
Grandmother listened to all of it, her eyes on my hands like they cupped treasures. She wrinkled her nose at mention of Amaz. But mostly she sat still and proud, her hands fiddling with a patch on her pants.
I found myself warming to the old woman as I laid out my tale. She was not my mother or father. She didn't have their warmth and reassurance, or their gentle gaze – hers was sharp as a palette knife – but she was family. I could see it the way she tilted her head, and the way Mother's smile filled out her face.
I felt like, after so long wandering, I'd managed to find my way home.
Comments