Woman's Work: Shikari Book Four

by Alma T. C. Boykin

  “Your pardon, Mistress,” Makana panted from above her. “The human leader insisted that we tell him what we saw and did.”

  Rigi made herself respond the way her mother would. “That, that’s fine, Makana. I understand. The shelter-tent is not available at the moment because guards are searching it. If you find anything missing that belongs to you, or to Andat, please let Captain Prananda know.”

  “Auriga, we need to get you into shelter,” Mrs. Stellare-Lowen said. “Can you stand?”

  “I think so. I’m sorry for causing any difficulties, ma’am.” Rigi got one leg under her, and managed to get to one knee, then with Mrs. Stellare-Lowen’s help she stood. “If the gathering tent is free I can wait there until my quarters are available. I do not want to impose—”

  “Shed dust and fur! You are coming with me, Auriga, and your associates too. You need to wash your face and have a good cry, don’t you?”

  “Ah, yes, ma’am, I believe tea would be welcome. Please, don’t put yourself out if you have other things you need to—”

  “Quiet.” Mrs. Stellare-Lowen sounded exactly like Rigi’s mother, and like the Retired Matron from Sogdia. Rigi stopped trying to speak. Instead she let Makana and Andat assist her. They followed Mrs. Stellare-Lowen to her shelter-tent. “Feebee, black tea,” she called. Rigi looked up in time to see pale ears disappearing into the shelter-tent, then Mrs. Stellare-Lowen beckoned them around the corner to some benches and chairs set up under a sun-shade awning. “Sit.” Makana and Andat lowered Rigi into a chair. “Thank you.” Someone approached, puffing a little, and Rigi saw a third-Stamm female in an army vest and modesty apron rushing toward them, balancing Staré cups and a large pitcher in her forefeet. Trust the Staré to take care of their own while maintaining Stamm, Rigi thought. What about Tomás?

  She needed to be there for him, to care for him! The tears she’d tried to fight erupted, harsh and ugly. She’d taken care of LeFeu and not her husband! Rigi leaned forward, face buried in her hands. A strong, warm hand patted her back, not saying anything until the first rush of weeping passed. “Here.” A clean and large handkerchief appeared, and Rigi wiped her eyes. “Blow.” Rigi blew her nose, then folded the soft material just so. “Pure deStella,” her hostess observed. “Drink.” Rigi took the tea, holding it for a few heartbeats as she murmured a prayer of thanks, then sipped. It had a little ginter, and something else. Rigi finished the cup and Mrs. Stellare-Lowen took it, someone refilled it, and Rigi drank again.

  Someone murmured in Staré, a female murmured back, and Rigi sagged against her hostess. “I’m sorry,” she began.

  A dark forefoot took the cup from her hands.

  13

  Aftermath

  Rigi woke up on the cot in her and Tomás’s shelter-tent. “If I’d known she was with child, I’d have taken her for a medical check,” Mrs. Stellare-Lowen snapped. “Why did she not tell anyone?”

  “It appears she is afraid of offending one Mrs. D’Amato. Whose husband owes Makana a considerable amount of money, I might add.” That wasn’t Tomás.

  “Scout and Huntress bless. Has anyone found the lieutenant?”

  “Yes.” The man bit the word off short. “And his wife. Huntress guide her to rest and healing.”

  “Scout have mercy, Huntress be kind. This should have been stopped years ago.”

  “Well, it is stopped now. Security is most tight-lipped about the results of searching the major’s quarters, which suggests that they found something of interest.”

  What had happened? Was Lydia—Had her husband hurt her? Had LeFeu? Adrenaline shot through Rigi’s bloodstream and she jerked awake, then closed her eyes as the walls swayed. Makana supported her as Andat offered her a cup of water. “Thank you.” They both wore forefoot covers, and she wondered why they were being so formal. Oh, because of strangers in the tent.

  Mrs. Stellare-Lowen studied her. “You are awake? Good. Thank you, Andat. How do you feel?”

  Rigi blinked. “Fuzzy, ma’am. What happened, if you don’t mind my asking.”

  She heard a man chuckle and the other woman threw up her hands, looking to ceiling. “Huntress give me patience. You needed to settle down, so I put a bit of false-comfrey in your tea. I did not anticipate your falling asleep, although now that I know you are expecting, it does not surprise me. Your staff and some of the soldiers carried you here, once security finished their search.” She sighed. “I fear your things are in a bit of a chaotic state, although nothing seems damaged. They did not go through your paints to see what was in the containers, thanks be.”

  “Mrs. Bernardi-Prananda, I see why you have such an excellent reputation among the scouts and xenoarchaeologists,” the man—Captain Lowen—said. “If you are not careful, you may find yourself tucked into a transport and stolen away by the cartographic team. Your eye for topography and unusual features is remarkable.”

  She blushed. “Thank you, sir. Ah, your pardon, but how is my husband?”

  “He is recovering from surgery on his arm. Major Chang wanted to have him arrested for assault, but your,” a significant pause, “your black-furred associate was most emphatic that no such thing occur. Most emphatic.”

  “Oh dear. Korkuhkalyah can be a touch immoderate when he is angry.” How much trouble would Kor be in? And Tomás?

  Rigi smelled amusement underlain with exasperation. “Immoderate perhaps, Mistress, but not without cause,” Makana said in Common. “Capt. Prananda did not translate either the literal or the general meanings of first-Stamm sir’s exhortations, merely the overall sense and summary.”

  Rigi wanted to crawl under the bed. They’d destroyed Tomás’s career, her actions and Kor’s temper. What would they do? How could she ever make up for what she’d done? The tears began to leak once more. She heard something very quiet, and the humans and Staré stepped outside, leaving her alone in her misery. Rigi curled up on her side and wept.

  She heard steps, sounds from outside, and faster steps. “Rigi, my love?” It was Tomás! She tried to sit up but he was faster, pushing his arm under her, holding her awkwardly.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it would end so badly for you. I’m sorry.”

  He swore, using one of their aunt’s favorite choice expressions. Then he continued, “Dust and dander, Auriga Maris Regina! My arm will heal, and Major Chang probably needed a good scolding, although I most certainly did not say that. Nor did I elaborate what precisely Kor suggested he go and attempt to accomplish with a striped plains leaper and an old boot. I suspect Kor’s tone and volume conveyed the general meaning well enough to suit.”

  “But, love, I’m sorry. I should have helped you and not,” she couldn’t say his name. “That man. I didn’t want to, but the medic asked, and he was senior.”

  Dark anger flashed across Tomás’s face and she tried to recoil, but his embrace was too strong. Predator glowered at her for an instant, then faded as he took a deep breath and released it. “You did your duty, Mrs. Bernardi-Prananda. I was angry when I heard and saw, yes. But your assisting Sgt. Phonmansang stifled a number of whispers and rumors, and it was your duty. And everyone is far more concerned about Mrs. De LaMere recovering and about keeping her husband from killing LeFeu before he can be evacuated for trial. LeFeu, not the lieutenant. And a few other people, including whoever was smuggling dreamcud and a few other things in, or at least who turned a blind eye to the signs of drug use, including LeFeu’s.” He turned his head and called, “Thank you, you may come in.”

  He helped Rigi stand while Makana fussed at both of them and Martinus sat in the corner out of the way. Soon four humans, including Capt. Lowen, sat around the table, with tea and hot meat-pies in front of them. The Lowens took charge, and insisted that Rigi eat. She did, and Tomás slid her an additional pie. She shouldn’t but… She ate it.

  “So. Mrs. De LaMere is being cared for. Scout be praised for swiftness, her husband found her before it was too late and got her medical treatment, then set out to fi
nd LeFeu.” Capt. Lowen clenched one fist and Rigi smelled a pungent blend of //anger/disgust// and something she did not recognize. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Makana and Andat both with teeth part-bared, ears back. “She will be evacuated as soon as the weather permits, and him with him, so he does not do something rash before LeFeu can stand trial.”

  “I should not have left her alone.” Mrs. Stellare-Lowen bowed her head, eyes closed. “After what Mrs. Bernardi-Prananda said, I should have insisted that she stay with someone until this was resolved or she could be evacuated.”

  “Since none of it was officially happening until my bride forced it into the open, I fear the poor woman might have had a very long wait.” Tomás patted Rigi’s hand.

  Capt. Lowen’s jerky nod and scowl suggested that he agreed. “She is in good hands and forefeet, and they will leave as soon as possible. Headquarters wanted to use only one flight, but wiser heads prevailed.”

  “Yes, because otherwise the major might have gotten flying lessons. Followed by swimming lessons,” Tomás snarled.

  Lowen held up a scarred hand, stilling him. “Enough, sir, there are ladies present. The major is recovering, although the detoxification process is taking longer than anticipated, or so I am told. Oomla’wrdi was not the only substance in his bloodstream, just the greatest by concentration, and the medics had to sort out a cross-reaction when they tried to neutralize the oomla’wrdi.”

  Rigi winced as she imagined the chaos. “That is one of the dangers of dealing with certain illegal pharmaceuticals, sir. Users tend to take them in clusters to mask unwanted effects, and without knowing exactly which combination was originally ingested or injected, treating the results can begin a cascade of reactions.” She’d had to memorize screens full of the most common drugs and their counter agents for her medics examinations. “But he will recover?”

  “There is some doubt, based on items found in his quarters. But again, security is not saying anything precise and the medics are not answering questions.” Lowen looked at the now-empty plate in the center of the table. “These needed something. Tam I think.”

  Rigi dared not look at her husband, lest she giggle.

  “My apologies, sir,” Tomás began. “I have a policy against serving tam at my table, and Makana and Andat have so advised the canteen.” A quick peek told Rigi that the two individuals in question were doing their best to look as innocent as new-hatched pouchlings.

  “Speaking of which, Prananda, what happened with the Staré when LeFeu attacked you? I’ve never seen or heard of anything like that, forming, well, a shield-wall in front of a human.”

  Tomás sat very straight. “My lady is counted as one of the Elders among the Staré, sir. She has a gift of discerning things others miss, called the Wise Eye, and is also well-known for her works of mercy.” Rigi blushed and looked down at the table top. The dark laminated wood needed to be polished. “LeFeu gravely insulted her, and in so doing, insulted the Staré as well. In my fear for her, and for our child, I asked the Staré to protect her. Had LeFeu gotten past me… There would have been precious little left of him, I fear.”

  “Correct, sir,” Makana and Andat chorused. Rigi did not care to imagine what the remains would have looked like. The half-butchered carcass of the beast-of-bones probably looked neater than what the Staré would have left of the bastard. Rigi scolded herself for her lack of forgiveness and charity, but the little mental voice sounded half-hearted at best.

  The look in Mrs. Stellare-Lowen’s eye warned that someone had a great deal to answer for. “The ladies have taken up a collection to help the De LaMeres with expenses and any needs until Lydia is able to recover from events.” Rigi caught a sense that Mrs. Stellare-Lowen had brow-beat them into charity. Capt. Lowen pretended to be interested in something else, reminding Rigi very much of her own father. DeStella women could be determined, or so Rigi had heard many times as she grew up. “And I fear, Auriga, you may find yourself called upon more often in your capacity as a medic. In addition to the dream-cud abuser, one of the sergeants was found overdosed on something and will be sent back with the De LaMere’s.”

  “Will that hurt your career, Captain?” She was assuming that he still had a future with the army. Did he?

  Tomás patted her hand. “No, it will not, because Lt. Col. Morgansi has informed all and sundry that ‘extraordinary cases require extraordinary solutions’ and because Kor has swept up every crumb of gossip and prurient interest and will present them to his sibling, quite likely on an engraved gilt and silver platter, shortly after we return to NovMerv, thus distracting the entire continent for long enough to allow your, ah, what was the phrase ma’am?”

  “Lamentable distraction and unfortunate obligation, I believe, Captain, were the words.” Mrs. Stellare-Lowen winked at them.

  “Thank you, ma’am. Will allow your lamentable distraction and so on and so forth to fade into near obscurity, Mrs. Bernardi-Prananda. Provided you submit our marriage paperwork once more, all of it.”

  Rigi squeaked. “All of it?” And the lawsuit over the Strahla Site art as well? She needed to have a fainting spell, or one of those wailing fits that her mother had never indulged in. Perhaps Aunt kay would have some suggestions as to how one threw a proper fit. Or Lexi might. Then she caught what Tomás had said. “Ah, Captain, what did Kor do?” Had he really decided to purchase a wombow dairy?

  “He found a mate, or vice versa. He did not give me many details, only those sufficient to leave me jaw-dropped and wondering if I ought to invest in protection from flying wombows. She is distantly related through the western super-lineage to one of the second Stamm females in the civilian settlement.”

  The other couple chuckled, and Rigi smelled //amusement// and //scandal// from Makana and Andat respectively.

  “Which reminds me, we do need to find something to do with Frisker,” Rigi sighed.

  “Frisker?” Capt. Lowen frowned.

  “Yes, sir. When I returned from the most recent mission, I was presented with the wombow whose, ah, most impressive eructations you observed not long ago.” Tomás tried to be delicate, and Rigi covered her mouth to keep from giggling aloud at his resigned tones.

  The light dawned. “Ah, the famous belching wombow. Who no longer belches now that he’s eating proper feed, I assume?”

  Rigi nodded, trying to hide her laughter. Mrs. Stellare-Lowen gave her husband a mildly shocked look. He chuckled again. “I fear—Frisker you said his name was?—Frisker’s reputation has been made. He is a sturdy looking beast, for all that.”

  “He is,” Tomás confirmed, “and we already have one wombow, and our lease does not permit us to have a full gentleman wombow on the property.”

  “Capt. Prananda, the words ‘intact male’ will not offend my ears, I assure you. My parents raised hunting dogs for a number of years, and I am quite familiar with the terminologies involved with animal reproduction.” Mrs. Stellare-Lowen frowned at him, and Tomás bowed a little in his seat at her correction.

  Rigi felt something inside her move, then a sharp something. She put one hand on her belly. The something repeated and she winced. Kicking already? Oh dear. That had to be from the Prananda side.

  The last two weeks in the army camp passed peacefully, at least compared to the previous weeks. Two scouts found the tracks of what Rigi now thought of as the holy-terror bird, no thanks to her husband, but reported no other signs of the enormous predator. After the memorial service for the scouts killed on the expedition, Rigi went with Tomás and Kor to find the headspring for the warm stream outside the possible wall. Tomás used a large bush-knife to cut away the underbrush around the spring, venting his anger and frustration on the plants, or so Rigi surmised. While Kor went off and did Kor things, Rigi stayed out of her husband’s way and watched for predators or just large, curious, and clumsy creatures. He was using bad words as he worked and she did her best to ignore them, instead watching the birds and a dull-blue-grey lizard with hair-like feathers that skitter
ed up and down one of the trees, carrying things up into the branches with each trip.

  Splash “Yorp!” Rigi spun around to discover her husband knee-deep in the stream, or at least one-knee deep in the stream, the other foot still on the bank, and the rest of him wavering before he regained his balance. “It’s slippery under the grass,” he warned. “And the water is very warm. There are two springs, one cold, the other looks almost super-heated, based on the sinter built up around it.” Rigi had custody of the rope and she tossed him one end, staying well back as she braced herself against his greater weight. He pulled himself out of the stream, drying the knife blade and wringing out his trouser leg as she coiled the rope again.

  Once she finished with the rope, she asked, “Slippery as in mud, or something else?”

  He frowned, wiping his forehead under the brim of his sun-shade. “Good question. I’m not—Dear, please don’t do that.” She’d come to stand beside them, then crouched down, slung her satchel behind her, and began digging away with her utility knife at the spot where he’d lost his footing.

  “Something else.” She sat back, pointing with the muddy knife-tip at a flash of cobalt blue.

  He crouched beside her and scraped away more of the debris. “I wonder if the First World Staré were color blind. This is the side with the warm spring. Should be red.”

  Rigi debated trying one of her mother’s long-suffering sighs, but opted to wait for a better moment. Instead she got out of Tomás’s way, picked a path downstream a few meters, and rinsed off the knife before drying it on the hem of her skirt and sheathing it. Martinus waited, alert, scanners working. The little one kicked for no discernable reason, and Rigi murmured, “This had best not become a habit.”

  “Woo?”

  “Not you. You’re a good dog.” She went over and patted Martinus’s head, then looked downstream. Down-channel, really, she thought, looking through the overgrown banks to the basic shape of the watercourse. Rigi wiped her hands on her skirt, retrieved her sketchbook, and began working. As she did, she heard Kor and Tomás speaking, and then the sound of Kor’s steps. Rigi didn’t look, instead concentrating on getting the line of the stream just so, and catching some details that she’d missed on her first visit.