Aufors went to the cradle and laid his hand on Dovidi’s forehead, which was flushed and hot. He heard his voice quaver as he asked, “What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s not fond of sheep’s milk, poor babe. So, I sent my helper to palace, for they’ve special food there for babies who have no mothers, you know. Sometimes mother dies, and baby is heir, and he’s left behind, so palace buys food for such infants. My good Kamakama has gone thieving, and if he’s done well, he should be back anytime.”
“Dangerous, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice still trembling a little. “Thieving from the Shah.”
“Less so tonight than most nights . . . though it’s almost day, come to that. Shah’s gone hunting. He’s off in southland with his army, and they’re seeking runaways and escapees. I doubt there’s two men awake in Mahahm-qum, and that wouldn’t include supplies-man. No, my good boy’ll make it back. He’s quick, and he’s quiet is my Kamakama.”
“Your son.”
“Not biological, no. Just one orphan boy I found and took.”
Aufors considered this. “Did you find him, perhaps, out on the sands?”
She gave him a perspicacious look. “Oh, I’m so old it’s hard to remember, but I might have. Then again, he could be water-baby.”
“Water-baby?” He shivered.
“Half people, half fish, you know. They joke about such things, over in Merdune.”
“And how would you know that?”
“Oh, they come here, salesmen from Merdune, looking to sell dried fish and loomed flax and what not. We listen, we malghaste. It’s best amusement we have. You don’t think funny?”
Aufors made a face. “I don’t think funny, no.”
Dovidi stirred with a brief, querulous cry, one echoed by a call that seemed to drop from above. In a moment they heard feet shushing on the stairs, and a lean, wiry youth exploded into the room, panting, with eyes wild. “They near had me,” he whisper-shouted, conveying his disturbance by breadth of gesture rather than by volume. “Just behind me when I ducked into wall-way. Near as makes no difference!”
“Who?” asked Awhero. “Town is empty.”
“Don’t know who. Didn’t stop to look or ask. They came around corner, yelling for me to stop, I went other way, kamakama.”
Awhero rose and put her hands on her hips. “So you forgot milk?”
“Not me,” he boasted. “Enough for six bratties and some left over for breakfast.”
“This is Aufors Leys, Dovidi’s daddy,” the old woman said, coming to take the package from him.
The boy bobbed a half greeting, without looking Aufors in the eye, asking from the side of his mouth, “What’s he doing down here?”
“Ask him,” she said. “He can talk.” She opened the pouch and took out a single packet.
“I came looking for Dovidi,” Aufors offered.
The boy nodded, looked him over astutely from head to toe, then went to lean against the wall at the foot of the stairs.
“I came for Genevieve, too,” said Aufors. “You haven’t told me where she is.”
“Nor can,” said the old woman, peering at the writing on the back of a packet the boy had given her. “She’s safe, so far. She got to marae, refuge, then marae up and departed, so she’s wherever it went to. Galul, most likely. Unless she’s decided to help out with Shah’s army.”
“Your people are going to fight the Shah’s army?” She giggled, sounding like a girl. “Oh, Aufors Leys, wouldn’t that be spectacular. More blood and gore than all lichen could soak up, most of it malghaste blood. No. Fighting isn’t malghaste way. We don’t fight. We run. They run after us. Then they have accidents.” She went to the stove, took the kettle from atop it, and poured hot water into a cup.
“Accidents?”
Kamakama laughed. “Avalanches bury them. Rocks fall on them. Chasms open up and swallow them. Serpents bite them. Large animals tear them to pieces.”
Awhero said, “You go on up there, boy. Keep watch.” As he departed, she busied herself with the kettle and the packet she had torn open, turning to remark, “Yes, it’s dangerous world on way to Galul.”
Aufors half whispered, “It must be dangerous. I saw bodies out there. Fairly fresh. All women.”