Out of the Darkness

Knowing what that meant even before she caught the smell, Vanai squatted down, laid Saxburh on the floor, and cleaned her bottom. Saxburh even thought that was funny, where she often fussed over it. Vanai laughed, too, but she had to work to keep the corners of her mouth turned up. She wouldn’t have used Forthwegian so much before she started disguising herself. It really was as if Thelberge, the Forthwegian semblance she had to wear, were gaining at the expense of Vanai, the Kaunian reality within.

Even if the Algarvians lose the war, even if the Unkerlanters drive them out of Forthweg, what will it be like for the blonds left alive here? Will they-will we-go on wearing sorcerous disguises and speaking Forthwegian because it’s easier, because the Forthwegians-the real Forthwegians-won’t hate us so much then? If we do, what happens to the Kaunianity, the sense of ourselves as something special and apart, that we’ve kept alive ever since the Empire fell?

She cursed softly. She had no answer for that. She wondered if anyone else did, if anyone else could. If not, even if the Algarvians lost the Derlavaian War, wouldn’t they have won a great battle in their endless struggle against the Kaunians who’d been civilized while they still painted themselves strange colors and ran naked through their native forests throwing spears?

The familiar coded knock Ealstan used interrupted her gloomy reverie. She snatched up Saxburh and hurried to unbar the door. Ealstan gave her a kiss. Then he wrinkled his nose. “I know what you’ve been doing,” he said. He kissed Saxburh. “And I know what you’ve been doing, too.” He took her from Vanai and rocked her in his arms. “Aye, I do. You can’t fool me. I know just what you’ve been doing.”

“She can’t help it,” Vanai said. “And it’s something everybody else does, too.”

“I should hope so,” Ealstan answered. “Otherwise, we’d all burst like eggs, and who would clean up after us then?” Vanai hadn’t thought of it like that. When she did, she giggled. Ealstan went on, “And what did you do with your morning?”

Before Vanai realized she would, she answered, “While Saxburh was taking a nap, I put on a blue-and-white armband and went out and pretended I was one of Hilde’s Helpers.”

“Powers above, you’re joking!” Ealstan exclaimed. “Don’t say things like that, or you’ll make me drop the baby.” He mimed doing just that, which made Vanai start and made Saxburh laugh.

Vanai said, “I really did. And do you want to know why?”

Ealstan studied her to make sure she wasn’t kidding him. What he saw on her face must have satisfied him, for he replied, “I’d love to know why. The only reason that occurs to me right now is that you’ve gone crazy, and I don’t think that’s right.”

“No.” Vanai said that in Forthwegian, but then switched to classical Kaunian. “I wore the armband because I wanted to give a certain officer of the redheaded barbarians a special dish-and I did it.”

“A special dish?” Ealstan echoed in his own slow, thoughtful classical Kaunian. “What kind of-? Oh!” He didn’t need long to figure out what she meant. His eyes glowed. “How special was it?”

“Four death caps,” she answered proudly.

“Four?” He blinked. “That would kill anybody ten times over.”

“Aye. I know.” Vanai wished she could have killed Spinello ten times over. “I hope he enjoyed them, too. People who eat them say they’re supposed to be tasty.”

“I’ve heard the same thing,” Ealstan answered, falling back into Forthwegian. “Not something I ever wanted to find out for myself.” He carefully set Saxburh in her little seat, then came back and took Vanai in his arms. “You told me not to take chances, and then you went and did this? I ought to beat you, the way Forthwegian husbands are supposed to.”

“It wasn’t so risky for me as it would have been for you,” she answered. “I just gave him the food, took back the bowl, and went on my way. He still feels fine-I’m sure of it-but pretty soon he won’t. What was I to him? Just another Forthwegian.” Just another wench, she thought, remembering the feel of his lips on hers. But the last wench, the very last.

“It’s a good thing you did get the bowl-and the spoon, too, I hope,” Ealstan said. Vanai nodded. He went on, “If you hadn’t, the Algarvian mages could have used the law of contagion to trace them back to you.”