"Yes. I thought you were the best person to ask because you're a Canter." Marte looked up, silent, curious but waiting for Megan to go on. "I need to know how to get off Dust."
"What!" Marte got up suddenly, unfolding herself quickly enough that the bottles rattled. "What would your father have thought?" Megan backed up but stopped when Marte just stood in front of her, squinting. "Come into the light." She pulled Megan forward by one shoulder. With cold fingers she tilted Megan's head back, peered into her eyes, sniffed at her breath. "It's not you that's on it," she said finally.
"No, but I still need to know."
Marte let go of Megan so quickly she staggered. "There's nothing to give anyone on Dust. They either stop or they don't. Mostly they don't; they just die."
"Can you help them stop?"
Marte looked at her from under lowered brows and finally said, "Sit down. You're going to tell me what's going on." For a second Marte looked like her brother, in the tilt of her head, as she briskly pushed Megan onto the visitor's cushion and put a cup of chai into her hands. Megan felt something inside her crack and she started to cry, though she'd sworn she never would in front of Marte.
Her aunt stood a little awkwardly, patted her shoulder with bony fingers, then moved out of reach and let Megan cry herself out into her chai. "That woman," she snapped. "It's that woman, isn't it?"
"My mama," Megan said, gulped, and wiped her face with her hands. "It's because of Papa, I think."
"Well, she's just going to have to snap out of it!" Marte slammed the lid of the box rack shut and latched it. "I can't do anything!"
"You won't even try?" Megan looked at her, put the empty cup down. "All right. I thought I could ask for Papa's sake."
Marte glared at her, her lips tight. "Don't. Don't you dare use that to force me to help your mother. If she'd tried harder to get Lixand out, my brother wouldn't have died."
"That's not fair!" Megan stood up. "We did our best for you, and now you aren't doing anything!"
"You're sounding more like an up-country, out-city bitch every day, brat." Marte's voice was flat. She stood up and slid the box onto its place on the shelf, her hands shaking. Megan stared at her aunt's back, whipped the door curtain aside. I had to ask. I had to. She's a… I don't have any words nasty enough, even the swear words. Piss, she saw me cry.
"Megan!" Marte called from her doorway. "You wait right there. I have to lock up." She pulled the door to behind her and came after. "I didn't say I wouldn't," she snapped, stepping over the Duster in the street without a second look.
They didn't say anything to each other all the way up to the Flats, walled off from each other. Megan glanced up at Marte's face. You're afraid, she thought suddenly, as if a door had opened in her head. I don't know what you're afraid of, but you are!
The room was a disaster, worse than Megan had left. One of the cushions was ripped open, the laundry scattered around the room. One of the sheets had fallen into the lamp, but mercifully snuffed it rather than catching fire. Ness, half-undressed so the extent of her self-inflicted bruises showed, half-sat half-lay in the empty wallbed, the tick and the pillow tossed into the middle of the laundry. The water jar was broken, everything on the floor damp.
Marte clicked her tongue impatiently. "Well, start the mess. Dusters are destructive, when they're still well enough to be."
"Mama's not a Duster, she's just hooked on it for now," Megan said, ignoring the look Marte gave her.
Marte got the bed made and Ness undressed and into it as Megan cleaned. Under everything she found the arm ring that Varik had given Lixand, broken into three pieces. She looked over to the wallbed and clenched her teeth. I don't understand. She wrapped the pieces carefully and put them in her pouch.
It was Megan who got fresh water from down the street, after borrowing a spare jar from Shen, but it was Marte who had the strength to hold Ness down. "I need it. I need it," Ness cried, alternately clinging to Megan and Marte or struggling to get away from them as she sweated most of the Dust out of her system. Finally, like a collapsing puppet, she fell asleep, leaving Marte and Megan to clean up the soaked sheets.
"How long has she been Dusting?" Marte looked haggard as she sat over a bowl of porridge, after. "Do you know?"
"I thought the cuts and stuff were accidents. Maybe an iron-cycle?" Megan hugged her knees and shivered. Was that too long? Was Mama going to be a Duster? She can't. She mustn't.
"Well, she has a chance. The stuff can't have settled into her that deeply. If she's lucid when she wakes up and realizes, then she'll help us more as she comes off."
"Oh." Megan opened her mouth but Marte cut her off-
"And no there isn't anything else I can do, or give her. It'll be a couple of Hands before we can leave her alone. If she slides back then…" She shrugged. "I'll stay with her during the day, when you're at the Hall." She put the bowl down and ran her hands through her hair. "Whether she comes off, or not, we're quits as kin. I don't owe you or Lixand or anyone anything after this. Don't even bother asking."
Megan looked at her across the table, where she sat on Papa's cushion, rinsing her mouth with chai. She didn't look like Lixand at all.
Why are you so? Are you still afraid of something? Why? Isn't there anything in you to give? She nodded to herself. That must be it. Marte had only so much to give and it was already gone. With some people being generous was always strong, but some people just cut that gift off at the roots and it died.
Megan gathered up the dishes and set about washing them. She had to tell Yneltzyn that her mother was sick and couldn't come in to work. She hated to lie, but Ness would be mortified if her Gospozhyn found out why. Megan would have to pretend that everything was fine, except that her mama was sick. I'll have to get my books so I can study here, if I can.
The first snow of the year tapped against her master's glass window, blowing white out of the dark afternoon. Yarishk folded his hands together with a sigh. "Megan. I know you've been through a great deal with your father's death and your mother being ill so often after, and I sympathize, but choosing to take on more when the house master tells me you've been staying up far too late at night to keep up your work, isn't a good idea."
"Gospozhyn, I need to learn as much as I can, as fast as I can. That way I'll be a journeyman faster and…"
He was shaking his head. "It's not that simple, Megan. You'll make yourself sick or your work will slip. It's more than book knowledge that makes a merchant, or anything else."
She bit her lip. She didn't want to say that she didn't want to go home, and felt guilty about it. Ness was off the Dust, but it was as bad as the summer just after her father died. Her mother kept trying to get more Dust or was sick with one thing after another, getting thinner, her eyes bright and feverish.
Yarishk looked at her as she sat on her cushion petting Sashi, and frowned. He wanted to help, but she wore pride like a coat and if a person didn't offer, one didn't pry. "Megan, why don't I see if we can arrange your cousin's lessons? The Other Guild understands some parent's whims in not wanting to apprentice their children and sometimes has to deal with them. Why don't you see if you can come up with the fee, using your latest lessons? I will teach her without formal permission, and you will have the extra work you want."
Megan smiled at him, her hands tightening so Sashi grunted and nudged into her armpit with a damp nose in protest. "I'll do it, Gospozhyn!"
"Nah, nah, softly. You go home to your mother the rest of the day and start worrying about this tomorrow." Megan's face fell a little, but it felt as if he understood, though she couldn't bring herself to tell him anything about what was happening at home. I'll go scrounging with Tikhiy in the market after we eat, before I have to… before I go home. The snow was melting into rain. There wouldn't be many people out so it would be riskier, but with the wind up people didn't notice right away that their purses were gone.
That evening she headed home with a few coppers in her pouch and a string bag with vegeta
bles. Maybe Mama would eat something tonight.
She trudged down the Stairs, feeling lower and lower. The cold rain had soaked through her cloak, first through the patches, then through the thin wool. She stepped around the streams of water running down the Stairs, but her boots were still wet. Her mood had started falling the moment she left Tikhiy. She'd wanted to see Serkai, but if she was "practicing" he didn't want to know. He was a squire now, with leather armor, starting to sound more and more like the DragonGuard, except when his voice cracked. When he kissed her, he was sometimes a little rough but always stopped when she complained. A few times they'd taken off all their clothes and stroked each other. That made Serkai shiver and moan and his member had just started to stand up when she touched it, hot and smooth, like a grown man's. He had a thin patch of black hair all around it and was starting to grow a thick line down his chest and back. She smiled to herself, thinking about it. He'd be starting a beard soon.
When he touched her, it sent sparks all up and down her back, a warm glow in the pit of her belly. The exciting ache between her legs, where she was just starting to sprout hair, was new, and she shivered just thinking about it. It was shiny and precious, something to share with your favorite person, the way Mama and Papa had always shared with each other; kissing and touching and holding each other close. She stopped outside the tenement, sniffing, wiping her runny nose.
With Serkai, she didn't have to worry. With him, everything was all right. She wanted to see him, but he would be in the Nest barracks now, probably eating. And she had to go in.
The smell of the turkeys in the bottom of the Flats rose thickly to cling inside her nose, pushed up from below by more stink and mud and noise. She hugged the string bag to her, peeking through the cracks in the winter walls, where the rain dripped through the atrium ceiling. I don't want to go home. Mama'll just sit and stare or moan to herself, shivering. Or she'll be in a screaming mood, and stomp around looking for something, anything to do that her shaking hands won't ruin. She'd broken her lace-frame in a rage the other day. She wanted Dust, but Marte was there or Dimi, so she couldn't get any.
Aunt Marte had said she was ready to give up because Ness had to decide not to Dust herself. She already called Ness a Duster behind her back.
The odor of cooking made her mouth water and she felt lonelier than ever. Ness used to cook like that. Megan cooked for them now, but Ness most often just pushed the food around the bowl. They couldn't afford anything to tempt her appetite, not even apples. For weeks Megan had been dreaming of the taste of oranges, waking up as she was biting into it, leaving her with the dry air of her wallbed filling her mouth.
Megan pulled the latch, opened the door, and stood blinking on the threshold. The room was clean. There was nothing broken and the only person there was her mother. The kraumak shone on the counter where Ness was cutting—cutting!—tubers to roast. Her mother's hair was clean, pulled back away from her gaunt face. Her hands shook as she cut, bony wrists poking out of neatly tied sleeves, but she was being very careful not to cut herself. There was milk warming on the brazier and salt-beef simmering.
"Mmm—ama?" Megan wasn't sure whether she wasn't dreaming. Ness carefully put the knife down before turning, wiping her hands on the cloth.
"Bylashka." Her smile was painful but determined. "I…" Her voice broke and she looked away, ashamed in front of her daughter. Megan walked in, still not believing that her mother was back in spirit.
" 'salright. There's some greens I brought." She held them out, arm's length, not trusting yet.
She saw the tears come up in Ness's eyes, but her mother didn't say anything except, "That was thoughtful, thank you." She took the bag, as offered, gently as if it were full of glass.
Megan watched her, throat choked with hope and fear, finally turning away to do her old job of setting the table; Mama's cushion, Meg's cushion. It was almost too frightening, this sudden return to normalcy.
Supper was full of careful words, Megan watching every mouthful that her mother ate. Ness ate slowly, steadily, as if trying to make up for the last cycles' neglect, though she didn't seem to want to eat.
"I convinced your aunt that it was all right to leave me alone," Ness said, putting down her eating pick. "I… I realized…" She twisted her napkin in her hands, a tear splashing down to make a small, dark round spot on the red cloth. She looked up.
"I want Dust but I refuse to need it. It isn't going to kill me, or keep hurting you. I've learned bad habits and it's going to take some determination to get rid of them, but I will. I swear off the DreamDust. By Koru, Goddess, Lady and Lord, hear me, bylashka."
Through the whole speech, Megan had held herself still, suddenly feeling older than the world, older even than her mother. It made her dizzy, that her mother should apologize.
"I—Mama, I can't make you keep that promise." Megan gulped and shrank away. Ness closed her eyes as if against a sudden pain.
"I know, Megan. I know. I have to keep that promise to myself." She sat still, like a Goddess image, her face full of pain, hands clenched, not reaching for Megan, letting her choose.
"Oh, Mama!" Megan flung herself into her mother's lap, banging her hip into the corner of the table as she reached out, hearing the dishes rattle, feeling familiar hands and arms hold her close. "Mama, I love you! I love you! It was like you went away. Don't ever go away like that again. I missed you."
Chapter Thirteen
Midwinter, Ness's fever struck after she'd gone out too soon with a bad cough, back to work. It settled in her lungs, clogging them so she couldn't breathe.
She smiled at Megan, who sat on the edge of the bed, holding her hands. "Bylashka…" Her voice was a cracked wheeze. She sat up, straining to look better than she was, to reassure her daughter. "It's all right. I've had a few illnesses this winter. This is just another."
"Mama, I might be able to get some oranges…"
Ness coughed, gasped a breath, coughed again. "No, love, they're too expensive." She eased back against the pillows, propped high to help her breathing. "I'm not that hungry, Meg."
Megan laid a hand on her mother's forehead. Her skin felt papery and hot, her lips cracked. Dimi had said he'd be back to check if the fever had broken—it has to break, soon—later on that night.
"All right, Mama." The water was low again, though Rilla had brought some in before she left as the wind came up, the ominous whistle that meant another blizzard blowing in; a night to stay inside.
Megan checked the bag of black-rock with her eyes as she sat, wondering whether there was enough to keep the room warm. Water, the brazier has to stay lit, so that Mama doesn't have to be bundled up… Dimi says no blankets until the fever breaks. There would be enough, at least until Rilla came back. Her cousin had made excuses for Marte, saying that she was busy, but Megan knew better.
Ness's fingers trembled in Megan's smaller hands, the dampened cloths Megan had wrapped around her legs already dry. Her eyes flickered closed, then open, gaze wandering around the room as if it were full of mist and there was nothing solid to catch her eye.
The brazier hissed as Ness struggled for breath, her thin fingers picking at the sheet, and Megan tried to get her to drink, laving her face.
Shen looked in later, waving a hand at Megan as she put a basket of black-rock down by the door. 'Here, I'D get you some more water, luv," she whispered.
"Thank you." The blizzard howled outside, bad enough that Megan could hear the Flats creak and shift under the force of the wind and snow, even one floor down.
In the middle of the night, as Megan wrung out another cloth, dripping the water back into the bowl, Ness opened unclouded eyes.
"Bylashka… love…" She stopped as if it were too much strain to speak, one hand fluttering on the mattress as if she were trying to lift it. She blinked and fell silent then, Megan hoping she'd sleep.
Then her breathing stopped, her hands going slack. Megan flinched away as if death were a presence she could run from, heart poun
ding, then she sat still, holding her mother's hands as if that would hold her to life. "Mama, no. No. Please, no. Koru, Goddess, Lady of Mercy, don't let my mother die. No. No."
Megan whispered that litany long after Ness's fingers were growing cool in hers. Then she sat listening to the lonely sound of her own breath in the room.
When Dimi looked in, Megan still sat holding onto her mother. She looked at him dry-eyed and said, "My mama's died. I didn't come to get you because there wasn't anything to do."
Megan stood on the plateau in the freezing wind, ignoring the snow blowing in her face. Her hands wrapped her mother's cloak secure around her, holding it tucked close like an impossible hug. Though it was too big, it was warm around her mourning grey.
All through she hadn't cried. It was too much to cry for. She stood looking at the platform, listening to the ravens yawping. The wind whipped through the funeral poles, and an old raven hopped closer, impatiently cocking its head sideways.
"Get away! Get away!" Megan lunged at the bird a step or two, fists raised, cold wind sweeping into her clothing as she let go the cloak. "You can't have her yet!" It blundered into the air with a papery thrashing of wings.
Yarishk, standing behind her and next to Rilla, made to lay a hand on her shoulder, hesitated. Behind them, politely out of earshot, stood the handlers of the dead, waiting to raise the funerary platform up on its pole. Marte wasn't there, though Shenanya, Dmitrach and Boryis, Jerya and Yneltzyn were. The snow fell thicker, clinging to Megan's face and eyelashes, melting like the tears she couldn't shed as she knelt down by the platform. As she had so often through the early part of the winter, every time Ness had been ill, she put out a hand and smoothed the hair off her mother's forehead. Only this time it was cool, not hot. Ness's eyelids stayed shut.
prayed again, when Mama kept getting sick all the time. I said I'd believe again if she were all right. That didn't happen. If there's a God, then it's the Dark Lord, because the world is all snow and bones.
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