by Ana Salote
Oy, Alas and Lil faced their friends in the darkness. Oy fiddled with the straps of his pack. It was difficult to know how to move away or what to say. ‘Let’s go,’ said Alas, roughly, but Oy seemed reluctant to leave.
‘Don’t worry, Oy,’ said Gritty. ‘We’ll look after Linnet. It will be just us girls together. We’ll tell stories and I’ll show her all the dances I’ve learned.’
‘No you won’t,’ said Gertie. ‘I’ve no right to keep you back. Wait there.’ She ran to the porch and came back with a bag. ‘Here’s your things.’
‘No, Gert.’ Gritty refused the bag.
Gertie thrust it at her. ‘I mean it. Better get off quick now. Get a head start.’
Gritty looked gratefully into her sister’s eyes, nodded and took the bag.
Lil, who did not do hand holding, was holding her hand out to Gritty. The travellers walked away, turning once, before they disappeared into the dark.
Gertie stared and stared, imagining she could see shapes and movement long after they were gone. A voice came from behind her. ‘Gertie. Thank you for staying. I can hardly imagine the library without you. You’ve become like my right hand.’
‘You might not think that, Emberd, when I tell you what I did. Oh Lor’, look over there in the trees.’ There was a glimmer of white between the branches. Gertie marched over, took Linnet by the hand and led her back to the Sanctry, chiding gently.
Fellun camps blotted the Nondul meadows. Snores and other bodily sounds were at odds with the sweet meadow air. All Felluns avoided mornings if they could. Overnight their slow blood thickened; their flesh all but died. Their breath was foul and their tempers fouler. Chee servants rubbed the life back into them. They sat outside their tents as mist condensed on their furs; they blew on their hot ale and eyed one another. None of them were keen to move but when one got up and moved stiffly to his horse the others were forced to follow.
It was long past dawn when the ugly mass of them went hustling and jostling down the trail towards the Sajistry for another day of searching. Packs of hounds swarmed all around them. The dogs crossed an invisible line and went wild.
There was a whine, and then a bark, and then a scattering. The dogs darted in all directions and the air was filled with dogs singing, whistling, diving, scrabbling, skidding, and shouting their barks at unyielding patches of earth. All the fields were filled with dogs and every dog had found it: the thing that their masters were looking for. The Felluns stood over the dogs as the dogs sprayed earth behind them and brought forth treasure. With soiled noses and flattened ears, they presented the finds to their masters. All of them held dirty scraps of cloth. The Felluns held the tributes at arm’s length with looks of disgust. The dogs waited for their reward. What they got was a kick in the ribs.
Then the dogs became confused and cautious. The hareboy’s scent was everywhere. They padded after it slowly. They pawed at the earth uncertainly, waiting for their masters to say yay or nay, ready to spring away from the kicks. Some of the Felluns left the fields and made for the Sajistry. The dogs grew excited again because now the scent was not in the ground, it was on the people. They swung from the robes of scholars, hundreds of scholars, every scholar. The scent of hareboy was everywhere. The Felluns grew angrier. The scholars met them blandly.
Gertie insisted that Linnet move into the Sajistry while the hunt continued. Together the girls watched the Felluns’ idiocy. Their two small faces at the high window were wry and defiant.
Eventually the hunt died down and the girls settled back for the long, anxious wait ahead.
Far away footprints smelling strongly of marsh mud and faintly of hareboy trod the hills. The bitter trail of marsh mud grew fainter and the hareboy’s own scent took over. It drew no notice, but for one twitch of a rabbit’s nose before it leapt away.
THE WAIFS OF DULDRED TRILOGY
Part one OY YEW
Part two NONDULA
Part three NIGMA