Grass by Sheri S. Tepper

“I never thought they did that,” he insisted. “Never thought they did that.”

“You never thought!” she shrieked at him. “Right! You never thought. It wasn’t you, so you never thought. Oh, damn you, Shevlok. Don’t go blaming the Hippae for getting her like that. You did it. You and Father and Figor and all you damn riders …”

“Not … not my fault.”

“If this hadn’t happened, you’d have married Janetta and had chil­dren and made them go hunting, too,” she accused him. “You’d have seen your daughters vanish and your sons get their arms bitten off, but you wouldn’t have stopped!”

“I don’t know. I might have. I don’t know.”

“Are you going to bon Laupmon’s to the Hunt today?”

He shrugged. “Probably.”

“You see! You know what happens, but you’ll still go. And some bon Laupmon girl or some bon Haunser girl will disappear, but that won’t matter because you’re not in love with them.” She wiped her face with her fingers, then pointed to the sleeping girl “What will happen to her?”

“I’ve got a woman from the village to come feed her, wash her, play with her, like a kitten.”

“If you’re going to Hunt, and Father goes …”

He shook himself, looking at her for the first time, trying to smile. He was fond of her, and of Emeraude. He kept trying to remember that. He was fond of her and Emeraude and Sylvan, and of his mother. “I heard about Emmy. You want an aircar, don’t you. To take Emmy in to Commons. Is she bad?”

“She’s as bad as Father could do before we pulled him off her. She won’t die, if that’s what you mean. Not if I can get her away from here. Her, and me.”

“Take her. then.”

“Father told the servants not to obey me. He didn’t tell them not to obey you.”

“I’ll tell old Murfon. After Father’s gone to bon Laupmon’s, Murfon will take you. I’ll tell him to pick you up from the village. Don’t let anyone see you.”

“Shall I take her, too?” Amy gestured toward the sprawled girl on the disordered bed.

Shevlok staggered to his feet and went to look down at the sleeping figure. He sobbed once, a sound that held more anger than grief. “You might as well. If you leave her here, I’ll kill her.”

14

Rigo asked Sebastian Mechanic to accompany him to the bon Laupmons’ place. He asked Persun Pollut and Asmir to come along as well, spending a few futile moments wishing the men were bigger, wishing they had weapons, wishing they were not commoners but bons so they would be taken seriously. Well, what use to wish? They were commoners and there were no weapons on Grass, none he had seen. None except the harpoons of the hunters, and the ungainly length of those instruments made them useless for protection. He felt very much alone and was foolishly ashamed of himself for feeling so.

He dressed with meticulous care, hating the froggy spread of the trousers, the effete look of the long pointed toes on his boots. Finally he took his hat and gloves from his villager-turned-valet and exam­ined himself in the glass. At least from the waist up he looked like a proper gentleman. As though that made any difference. As though anything would make any difference!

He would not apologize for taking Persun and Sebastian and Asmir along, it was certainly not improper to take servants to the Hunt. Others did. When a bon Haunser returned from a bon Damfels Hunt and went into the bon Damfels’ guest quarters, it was his own servants who had prepared a room for him, his own servants who had kept the bath hot and laid out fresh clothing. When Rigo had ridden for the first time, he hadn’t known. No one had told him. He and Stella had had to return all the way to Opal Hill before they could bathe.

When he had ridden the second time he had brought a man along but there had been no question of bathing. Stella had vanished, and that is all he had been able to think of. Now, for the first time, he wondered what would have happened if Stella hadn’t vanished. He, Rigo, had taken a man along. He had forgotten to provide anyone for Stella. It was an uncomfortable thought, and he pushed it aside.

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