by Victor Poole
"That will burn, tomorrow," Bain told her. She was standing within the deep shadow near the shelf, and she looked up at the boy.
"Why?" she asked, and pulled the clean tunic over her head.
"Your soul is dead," Bain said. "The poison tree juice will clear away what appearance of life you have made inside." He came near her, and prodded at her arm. A jolt of lightning seemed to pass into her bones at his touch. Ajalia kept herself from shouting out again, but she gasped at the wrenching pain that tore through all her joints at Bain's touch.
"Stop touching me," Ajalia hissed. She pulled on her pants.
"You'll feel dead tomorrow," Bain told her.
"Okay," she said.
"You shouldn't do that," he said.
"And you would know, why?" she asked him. "Is your soul dead? Do you know everything? Are you coming back to life? Hypocrite," she muttered angrily. Bain's face darkened with indignation, but then he smiled.
"Maybe you're right," he admitted.
"Of course I'm right, little boy," Ajalia said scornfully. "Tcha!" she spat, and gathered together her bloodied clothes, making sure that the soaked places on the front and the waist did not touch her skin or her clothes. "Goodbye, Bain," she said loudly, and carried the ruined clothes to the garbage pit. She hesitated over the pit, and considered the slowly burbling blackness. Ullar, she thought, would ask for the tunic again, or at least ask where it had gone. If Ajalia destroyed the green garment, she reflected, Ullar might guess that Ajalia had had some adventure, and when people began to talk, there was a chance that the older woman would guess the truth. Ajalia got all of the things from the clothes, and tucked them away in the waist of her leggings; she threw her ruined leggings into the black garbage pit, and carried the green tunic back towards the bowl of pearly fluid. She laid out the green tunic on the ground, and began to apply the smoking rag to the bloodstains. When she had lifted most of the stains from the tunic, she looked around. Bain, she saw with satisfaction, had gone, and she sighed with relief. Obnoxious boy, she thought, and set her teeth together in a hard line.
I am sick and tired, Ajalia told herself, of being followed around by people who ask questions. When she had finished soaking up the blood from the green tunic, and had begun to scrub the rag deep into the last stains, a shadow fell over her work.
BAIN SETS A TRAP
"I don't want you here, Bain!" Ajalia snapped. She looked up. Delmar was standing over her, glowering.
"I'm not Bain," he said. She glared at him. "Who's Bain?" he added.
"A dead boy," she growled, and scrubbed at the bloody shirt. Delmar watched her. His arms unfolded, and the anger began to smooth out of his face.
"What are you doing?" he asked, and crouched next to her. His eyes followed the back and forth motion of Ajalia's hands.
"Cleaning up blood," Ajalia said shortly.
"You said the witch was dead," Delmar said helpfully.
"Not witch's blood," Ajalia said.
"Oh," Delmar said. He looked at the tunic, and then at the silent dragon temple that loomed above them. "Whose?" he asked. Ajalia sighed, and dipped her cloth into the pearly liquid. "I'm sorry I left," Delmar offered. "I got mad."
"I wanted you to leave," Ajalia said. She felt furious inside. Why, she demanded of herself, would Delmar not stay angry? And why, she added, could she not hold on to her own indignation? "I wanted you to stay away," she said slowly, "but now I'm not sure." Delmar nodded.
"I was very angry," he said.
"Ocher's in love with me," Ajalia said. Delmar crinkled up his face.
"He's too old to be in love," Delmar said. Ajalia held back a laugh.
"I killed your mother," she said, as though she were telling him about the weather.
"Is that a metaphor?" Delmar asked, sitting down and crossing his legs. Ajalia closed her eyes, and tried to count the number of times that her heart beat against her ribs.
"No," she said evenly.
"Okay," Delmar said. He did not seem to understand. Ajalia turned the tunic over, and began to scrub at the other side. "That isn't coming out," Delmar observed.
"Yes it is," Ajalia grunted.
"Well," he said. "Not very fast."
Ajalia was breathing hard; she could feel a pulse of fear and horror beating just below her neck. She knew she was starting to feel the effects of what she had done. It had been all right, she told herself, before Delmar had come back.
"Why don't you go for a walk?" she suggested.
"I've just been on a walk," Delmar said agreeably. Ajalia tried to think of something to say. The whitish liquid was lifting out the bloodstains, but very slowly. The rag had begun to smoke again. "Something seems to be wrong with your poison tree juice," Delmar said. He stood quickly, and reached for the bowl.
"No, don't!" Ajalia cried, and snatched it away from him. Delmar looked at her with an offended wrinkle over his eyes.
"What's the matter with you?" he demanded. Ajalia felt the whole world spinning around her.
"You can't use that," she said. "You can't let that touch the other stuff."
"Why?" Delmar demanded.
"The black juice will turn white," she said. "I don't want it to be white."
"What are you talking about?" Delmar asked angrily. He pointed at the bowl in Ajalia's grasp. "That's black," he snapped. "The juice is all black. I just thought you would want some help!" He strode away to the small stables, and Ajalia heard him murmuring to Pudge. Ajalia wished that she could go back to the time before she had known Delmar. Delmar, she thought, made the whole world go fuzzy around her. She couldn't grip on to things the way she wanted to. She stood up, and scooped up the green tunic. The bloodstains on the chest and the sleeves had spread outward with her scrubbing; they were a strange mashed brown now. She carried the bowl, the rag, and the tunic to the garbage pit, and threw all three items in. The green tunic sank with a hiss into the fluid, and the bowl went under the surface with a loud burp. Ajalia stared at the black poison juice, and watched it to see if it would turn any other hue but black. The rag floated on the surface of the pit for several seconds, and then sank down under a tiny cloud of steam. The pit was still wholly black. Ajalia sighed. She told herself that Bain had been wrong. She told herself that she had made up Bain. Stress, she told herself, and lack of sleep. She told herself that killing Delmar's mother had been a long, ugly dream. She thought of Yelin, and of Wall running back toward his father's house. She imagined Yelin for a moment, living some secluded life in small upper room, with a child in her arms. Ajalia smiled; she crossed to where Delmar stood. He was looking down at the tiny jennet. His face was creased with annoyance.
"I don't know why you're so short with me," he told her, as soon as she came up. Ajalia reached out, and scratched Pudge behind her long furry ears.
"I don't mean to be," Ajalia said, but she was lying.
"You're just mad that we're not living together openly," Delmar said wisely. Ajalia tried not to laugh, but a kind of squashed chortle came out.
"That's not why I'm upset," she said finally. He turned, and examined her in the dim light.
"Yes it is," he said stubbornly. "You're mad at me because we're never alone, but that isn't my fault." Ajalia looked up at Delmar, and tried to find words. She couldn't find any words inside of herself.
"Did Ullar bring in the clothes?" Ajalia asked finally.
"Who is Ullar?" Delmar asked. His voice sounded a little tart.
"She delivered the jennet," Ajalia said.
"The clothes are upstairs," Delmar said, waving his hand dismissively. "What did Ocher want?"
"He came to tell me that your mother was on her way," Ajalia said. Delmar jumped as though Ajalia had prodded him with a hot iron. He looked back at the dragon temple.
"We'd better go, then," he said urgently. "She'll be here any moment."
"She already came," Ajalia said. She felt overwhelmingly weary. A kind of frantic whirring had started up in the back of her mind; she could alm
ost hear the desperate flapping of great escaping wings. "I don't really want to keep talking about it," she said. "I already told you what happened."
"No, you didn't," Delmar said.
"Yes, I did," Ajalia told him. He looked at her.
"No," he said. Ajalia blinked, and looked down at the gray jennet. Pudge was standing with one hoof tipped against the ground, and her eyes closed. The jennet had long black lashes that lay in a sweep against her fuzzy cheek.
"Are you going to tell me now that you forgot what I said?" Ajalia asked.
"But you didn't tell me what happened," Delmar insisted. "Is my mother gone?" Ajalia looked at Delmar. She felt crazy.
"Yes," she said. She turned and walked back towards the temple. She went inside; she could hear Delmar's footsteps whispering along behind her. She told herself that she was going to get rid of Delmar; she told herself that she would send him home, and that she would go to Talbos, and then across the sea. Even Philas, she thought, had never been as aggravating as Delmar. She thought of Leed, and wished that the boy had returned. She could have complained about Delmar to Leed, she thought, and the boy would have stared at her with big eyes under his fringe of brown hair, and he would have told her to get over her emotions. At least, Ajalia told herself that that is what Leed would have said. She went to Denai's room, and knocked at the door. There was no answer; Ajalia sighed.
"What are you doing now?" Delmar asked.
"Thinking about how to get rid of you," Ajalia said.
"You could just tell me to go away," Delmar suggested. Ajalia looked at him. She felt a sort of swirling in her stomach; she felt as though a whirlpool of water was spinning down a drain that had been opened somewhere below her feet.
"You're insane," she said. A thought came to her, and she reached down below the ground. She had meant, the last time, when she had cut off Lilleth's head, to have that be the last time. She had told herself that she would never use the glowing cords of light within the earth again. The lights were too other-worldly, too invisible, too much like a dream for Ajalia to trust them. But now Ajalia imagined herself wrapping her fingers tightly around a thick cable of burning gold, and she put out her palm against Delmar's chest.
"Hi," he said. His voice changed from what it had been before; he did not seem to have noticed the golden light that Ajalia was pushing, even now, through his whole being. He smiled at her, and his eyes looked clear. "Were we talking about something?" he asked her. His voice was warm, and sensible. He looked around at the door to Denai's room. "Denai went out," Delmar told Ajalia. "He took the donkey from that woman, and I took the bundles, and then he went away with her."
"Denai went out with Ullar?" Ajalia asked. She tried to stuff away the unspooling knowledge, the realization that the golden lights brought Delmar back to himself. She withdrew her hand, but Delmar continued to look at her as though he was thoroughly awake and aware.
"Delmar," Ajalia said.
"Yes?" he asked promptly. Ajalia felt as though time had slowed around her. She moved gradually away from the door, and looked back at Delmar. He was watching her, and waiting.
"Come on a walk with me," Ajalia said slowly, as though she were speaking through water. She walked towards the main entrance to the dragon temple, and Delmar walked along beside her. She glanced at him; he was smiling. When they had come to the steps, Ajalia examined the place where Lilleth had lain dead. No sign remained of the murder. Ajalia suppressed a shiver, and went down the steps.
"Delmar," she said slowly.
"Yes?" he said again.
I shouldn't speak anymore, Ajalia told herself. He'll only use me again, and lie to me, she told herself. He'll listen to me, she thought, and get me to expose myself, and then he'll pretend to forget. She walked slowly into the darkness of the streets, and Delmar came along beside her. Ajalia breathed in and out, and thought about her father. I don't want to think about my father, she told herself firmly, and thought of her brother.
"Did you hear what I said, earlier?" Ajalia asked, shoving the picture of Gabriel away. She was determined never to think of Gabriel, or to see him in her mind's eye. I don't have to, she reminded herself, and thought of a soothing meadow full of grazing horses. She imagined herself lying back in the grass beside a black horse. Oh, good grief, she told herself, am I a child?
"No," Delmar said. "What did you say?"
"I'm not going to tell you again," Ajalia said slowly.
"Okay," he said reasonably. They walked together around the corner, and Ajalia walked in the direction opposite to the Thief Lord's house. She thought of the rooms in the Thief Lord's house, where Lilleth should have been by now, and she covered a feeling of disgust. She tried to make herself feel sorry, but she only felt angry, and used.
"Your mother told me that she married you," Ajalia said finally. They had passed under a dark arch that spanned between two buildings; she could see nothing of Delmar's face. He took a long time to reply.
"That isn't true," he said at last.
Ajalia thought about the gleam of gold that she had removed from his mother's body, and the dull glint that had shone in her animal-like eyes.
"Delmar," she said. He looked at her to show that he was listening. She thought about what she wanted to say. "Is your mother a witch?" she asked.
"She isn't a witch," Bain said. Ajalia kept herself from jumping, but she looked around at the boy, who was pacing along on her other side.
"No," Delmar said, "I don't think she is." He won't believe me, Ajalia told herself, if I tell him what I saw. He'll tell me I made it up, she told herself.
"I think your mother has some kind of power over you," Ajalia said. She ignored Bain. The boy walked along with his hands clasped behind his back. Bain's features were curled into a pensive expression. Ajalia thought that he was like a wizened old man. She walked between Bain and Delmar, and the white stone streets passed like shadows around her. She thought that she might as well have been walking in a dream. She told herself that she could wake up tomorrow, and all this would be gone. A sweet ache in her heart told her this wouldn't happen, but she wished that it could have.
"I am very tired," Ajalia said. Delmar said nothing. "I would like to go back in time," she added, "to before we met. I would like to pretend that we didn't meet," she said. Delmar walked along without looking at her. His eyes were fixed on the street ahead, on the shadows that fell in long rectangles over the gleams of moonlight. The air was growing cold; Ajalia wondered if the winter rains were like ice here.
Delmar said nothing. She glanced at him, and saw that his mouth was twisted to one side, and that his eyes were fixed on nothing.
"I don't want to know you anymore," Ajalia said. Delmar turned without speaking, and walked in the opposite direction. Ajalia thought that he was probably going home, to his father's house. She sighed; a large weight seemed to drop down off her shoulders, and her eyebrows unknit themselves. A spring came into her step, and she felt lighter, freer than before. Good riddance, Ajalia thought, and she began to wind her way around the houses, directing her feet towards the dragon temple. She took the long way, because she didn't want to meet Delmar. Bain walked still next to her, but she pretended she hadn't noticed. She told herself that if she never spoke to him, he would leave her be.
"That was Delmar, wasn't it?" Bain asked. Ajalia said nothing. Bain walked a little ahead of her, and turned so that he was walking almost in front of her. "I think he needs you," Bain said.
"You can go help him, then," Ajalia said shortly. Bain examined her face.
"I don't think that's fair," Bain said. "I helped you with that woman."
"Did I ask you for help?" Ajalia demanded.
"You're going to drive people away," Bain informed her. "You're being unnecessarily rude." With some effort, Ajalia stopped herself from punching Bain, or shouting at him.
"I have no one on my side," she told him. "I am alone. I will be as rude as I like."
Bain thought about this. The top of his
head came up to Ajalia's shoulder, and he had to tip his chin to see her face.
"I could be on your side," he said. Ajalia looked straight ahead. She had carved around the back street, and now she moved into a narrow alley that lay between two buildings. She did not know quite where she was going now. She knew that the dragon temple was some little distance north of her, and she could see the moonlight shining at the end of the alley, so she felt secure enough that there would be another road beyond the alley. Bain stood at the entrance of the alley. When Ajalia came out of the other side, he appeared in the lighted street.
"There wasn't enough room to come with you," he explained. "I hope my vanishing doesn't bother you too much."
"I did not ask you to come with me," Ajalia said. She looked around the square she found herself in. A dark shadow lay between the two buildings that abutted opposite the alley. After a little looking about, Ajalia saw that she had entered a trap; there was no outlet from the alley. She turned around, and entered the darkness.
"I'm being followed," Bain said. He was standing in front of her, blocking the way through the dark alley.
"Right now?" Ajalia asked. Her heart began, dully, to thud against her ribs.
"Yes," Bain said. His eyes were cloudy; he looked as though he were seeing something at a distance, in his mind. "They think I killed the witch," he said. He looked at Ajalia. "They don't know about that other woman."
"Where do I go?" Ajalia asked. She did not waste time; she had run from pursuit often enough in her youth to understand the drill of sudden escape. Bain stepped into the darkened square without a word, and Ajalia followed him. He pressed his hand to a wooden door that lay within a stone house, and Ajalia saw, or felt, a flash of heat come out of his palm. The door unlatched, and he opened it without a sound. Ajalia followed him into the house. As soon as she was inside, Bain closed the door, and locked it.