mouth.
She loved her brother, gods help a fool. She was bound to him in ways that she
could not untangle; and she stole from Her to pay Her, which was the only thing
she could do. It was damnation she courted. It was the most terrible ruin in the
world.
It was for the arch-fool Mor-am, who was the only blood kin she had, and who had
bled for her and she for him since they were urchins in Jubal’s employ. It was
not Mor-am’s fault that he drank too much, that he smoked krrf when the pain and
the despair got to be too much; he had hit her and she forgave him in a broken
hearted torment-all the men she loved had done as much, excepting only Haught,
whose blows were never physical but more devastating. It was her lot in life.
Even when Ischade clothed her in satin and Haught touched her with stolen
glamor. It was her lot that a drunkard brother had to show up wanting money; and
adding to the sins that she would carry into Ischade’s sight tomorrow. It was
men’s way to be selfish fools, and women’s to be faithful fools, and to love
them too much and too long.
“Here,” she said, when she had come panting up the stairs, when she had found
Mor-am huddled still amid her bed, weeping into his thin, dirty hands. “Here-“
She came and sat down and put her hand on his shoulders and gave the gold to
him. He wiped his eyes and snatched it so hard it hurt her hand; and got up and
shambled out again.
He would not go to Ischade. He would go to the nearest dope-den; he would give
it all to some tavemkeeper who would give him krrf and whatever else the place