From somewhere came a distant echo, or an answering call. We waited to see if it came nearer, but there was no more sound.
Leelson got down from the wagon seat. Trompe went with him. I stayed where I was, unable to take my eyes from the place where they were, from Leelson’s and Trompe’s hands as they moved the wings, the arms, from their faces as they looked curiously at the slender bodies.
“They’re dead,” cried Leelson. “Do they normally die like this, Saluez.”
I could not move. I could not speak. Lutha looked at me curiously, then put her arms around me and held me closely, whispering, “They don’t die at all, do they, Saluez?”
I shook my head frantically. Of course not. Of course they didn’t die. They couldn’t die. They stayed with us, until they went on, at Tahs-uppi. This wasn’t the way they went on.
“Leelson,” she spoke sharply. “Leave it. We can’t afford this delay.”
Almost reluctantly, he left the tumbled bodies and trudged back to the wagon. I went inside it so I could not see those bodies when we passed. I was trembling so hard I thought my bones would snap. They couldn’t die. Kachis could not die. They never died. No one had ever seen one die, or seen a dead one. That was a fact! Part of the evidence we were taught as children, part of the supporting evidence for the choice.
The wagon moved again, and I heard Lutha muttering to the two men. She wouldn’t break the promise she made to me, not to tell them about … the spirits of our people. I knew she’d keep her promise, but she would have to tell them something. I didn’t care. Just let them leave me alone. I couldn’t bear to be questioned.
Later, when she and I were alone, she whispered to me, “Did you … recognize either one of those Kachis, Saluez?”
I did not. I had not looked. I didn’t want to know if they were dear departed of mine.
During the following hour, I had time to calm myself, time to tell myself it had been something aberrant that had happened there, something utterly beyond belief. Perhaps even Kachis can sin. Perhaps even Kachis can disbelieve and be punished for it. This occurrence might be perfectly understandable.
So I thought until Leelson pointed out another dead one. After that, they were scattered all along the way, like fallen rocks. When we emerged from the canyon a little later than midafternoon, he had counted several score of them dead.
“I’m doing it,” I said frantically to Lutha. “It must be me. My apostasy. My evil. My sin.”
She shook me. “Don’t be ridiculous, Saluez. Are you the only so-called apostate? How many are there? How many women in your sisterhood? Plenty, I’ll wager. Back in Cochim-Mahn I did a count. I’d say between a third and a half of your women are veiled. You have an exaggerated opinion of your own importance if you think you can cause something like this!”
I had never counted them. But … the chamber of the sisterhood was large. Extremely large. And it was full, too, even on those nights when we had no guests from other places. Lutha was right. When I thought of it calmly, I knew she was right. But knowing and believing … oh, they are such separate things. “What’s causing it, then?” I cried. “You tell me what’s causing it!”
“If I had to guess, I’d guess some virus brought in by one of your leaseholders,” she said. “There are new viruses turning up all the time.”
“But why here? Where we are!”
She shrugged. “Saluez, maybe I’m carrying it. Or Leelson. Or even Trompe. By the Great Gauphin, girl, it could be anyone. We handle the panels, the Kachis chew on the panels and pick up what we’ve left there. Just be thankful we were away from Cochim-Mahn when it happened. I have a feeling if this had happened while we were under the eyes of songfather, he’d have assumed we caused it and we’d all be dead by now, including you because you’d associated with us. And Chahdzi, probably.”