Out of the Darkness

Conberge often visited the house. The first time Vanai met Ealstan’s older sister, she stared intently at her, then asked, “Do I really look like that when I wear my Forthwegian mask?”

“I should say you do,” Conberge answered, eyeing her with just as much curiosity. “We could be twins, I think.”

“Oh, good!” Vanai exclaimed. “I’m so lucky, then!” That raised a blush from Conberge despite her swarthy Forthwegian complexion. Vanai meant it, too. She thought Conberge an outstandingly good-looking woman in the dark, buxom, strong-featured way of her people.

“I’m prettier with her face than I am with my own,” she told Ealstan that night.

“No, you’re not,” he answered, and kissed her. “You’re beautiful both ways.” He spoke with great conviction. He didn’t quite make Vanai believe him, but he did prove he loved her. She already knew that, of course, but more proofs were always welcome. She did her best to show Ealstan it went both ways, too.

As summer advanced, she and Conberge stopped looking just alike when she wore her sorcerous disguise, for her sister-in-law’s belly began to bulge, as her own had not so very long before. Conberge also grew even bustier than she had been, which Vanai thought almost too much of a good thing. She doubted whether Grimbald, Conberge’s husband, agreed.

The two of them walked to the market square together one blistering afternoon. Vanai had Saxburh along. Conberge watched her niece. “I ought to carry around a little notebook,” she said, “so I’ll know, ‘All right, she does this when she’s that old, and then when she gets a little older she’ll do that instead.’ “

Vanai rolled her eyes. “What she’s doing now is being a nuisance.” She’d brought along a carriage, but Saxburh pitched a fit every time she tried to put her into it. She’d just learned to walk, and walking was what she wanted to do. That meant her mother and her aunt had to match her pace, which annoyed Vanai but didn’t bother Saxburh at all.

“It’s all right,” Conberge said. “I’m in no hurry.” She set a hand on her belly. “I feel so big and slow already, but I know I’m going to get a lot bigger. I’ll be the size of a behemoth by the time I finally have the baby, won’t I?”

“No, not quite. But you’re right-you’ll think you are,” Vanai answered.

A squad of Unkerlanter soldiers patrolled the market square. Vanai was finally used to men who shaved their faces, though the smooth-faced Unkerlanters had startled her the first few times she saw them. They didn’t give her cold chills, the way Algarvian troopers would have. For one thing, they didn’t despise her people in particular. For another, they didn’t leer the way the redheads did. When they stared around, it seemed much more like wonder at being in a big city. She couldn’t know, but she would have guessed they all came from villages far smaller than Oyngestun had ever been. And they all looked so young: she doubted any of them could have been above seventeen.

When she remarked on that, Conberge nodded. “Unkerlant had to give sticks to boys,” she answered. “The Algarvians killed most of their men.” Vanai blinked. In its bleak clarity, that sounded like something Hestan might have said.

They bought olive oil and raisins and dried mushrooms-summer wasn’t a good season for fresh ones, except for some that growers raised. When they put parcels in the carriage, Saxburh started to fuss. “What’s the matter with you?” Vanai asked. “You don’t want to use it, but you don’t want anyone else using it, either? That’s not fair.” Saxburh didn’t care whether it was fair or not. She didn’t like it.

Vanai picked her up. That solved the baby’s problem, and gave Vanai one of her own. “Are you going to carry her all the way home?” Conberge asked.

“I hope not,” Vanai answered. Her sister-in-law laughed, though she hadn’t been joking.

“Do we need anything else, or are we finished?” Conberge said.

“If we can get a bargain on wine, that might be nice,” Vanai said.

Conberge shrugged. “Hard to tell what a bargain is right now, at least without a set of scales.” Vanai nodded. A bewildering variety of coins passed current in Forthweg these days. King Beornwulf had started issuing his own money, but it hadn’t driven out King Penda’s older Forthwegian currency. And, along with that, both Algarvian and Unkerlanter coins circulated. Keeping track of which coins were worth what kept everybody on his toes.

Conberge coped better than most. “I’m jealous of how well you handle it,” Vanai told her.

“My father taught me bookkeeping, too,” Conberge answered. “I’m not afraid of numbers.”

“I’m not afraid of them, either,” Vanai said, remembering some painful lessons with Brivibas. “But you don’t seem to have any trouble at all.”

“He gave me his trade,” Conberge replied with another shrug. “He didn’t stop to think there might not be anyone who’d hire me at it.”

“That’s not right,” Vanai said.

“Maybe not, but it’s the way the world works.” Conberge lowered her voice.