—and yellow striped costume. Crazy Kel pulled her veil over her face hastily. «You do well to cover your face, missy,» said Elderwoman Hennin. «Flout village law, if you wish. Break the Blood Day Rule. Dance if the blood comes to you on the eve of Trickster's Hallows. And see what happens. It matters little to me, but just remember this, missy: deviance has its consequences. Step outside village law, and you also step outside its protection.» Elder-woman Hennin smiled here. «You can be sure of one thing about Trickster, missy. He'll offer you no protection of his own. That's not his way. He'll dance you and leave you.» «But Rimble's not like that,» protested the young girl in the black and yellow costume. «He's a Greatkin. He's my friend.» Elderwoman Hennin met her eyes. «Trickster likes his dupes young. Know why? So he can make fools out of you. There's nothing nice about Rimble, missy. There's nothing the least bit nice about The Wasp.» Yafatah pointed dazedly at the Jinnjirri mist. She felt her mother reach for her hand as a gesture of comfort. The touch of her mother's hand hurt her heightened sense of touch, and Yafatah pulled away, huddling alone under her orange blanket. Images of the previous night's dreams presented themselves to the young Tammirring girl for the second time that morning. Yellow and black. Old Jamilla in yellow and black rags, motioning Yafatah to her side. «Go to Speakinghast. Before it's too late.» «Too late for what, Jammy?» asked Yafatah, bewildered. «For me to matter.» Yafatah blinked. «I doon't understand, Jammy.» «Fool,» said the old Mayanabi woman softly. Then, she pulled back her raggedy cowl of yellow and black patches. She had pied eyes. Yafatah stared at the old woman's face. «You be not me friend, Jammy! You be not me friend at all! You be Greatkin Rimble come to prank me!» Yafatah's memory of this portion of her dream became so vivid that she began speaking the words out loud. Fasilla turned to her in alarm. «Doon't get caught in the shift, child. Remember yourself!» Fasilla's Tammirring-born daughter ignored her. Getting to her feet in the wagon, Yafatah wagged a finger at something Fasilla couldn't see and shouted, «I willna' do for you, Trickster! I willna' turn, and I willna' go to Speakinghast! Elderwoman Hennin be right. You be a wasp! And you do be pranking me with blood!» Fasilla stared at Yafatah, her face pale. «Hennin?» she whispered. Yafatah met her mother's eyes with fear. She blinked, feeling very disoriented. Where had all those thoughts come from? She knew no one named Elderwoman Hennin. Yafatah looked around herself frantically. She could sense someone else in the mist. Someone half-mad, someone choosing—
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