We Leave Together, стр. 41

Rachel opened the book he had given to her. She ran her eyes lazily down the words of the Senta koans, meditating only slightly in the noise and boredom.

A princess was born blind. The king, her father, didn’t want his daughter to know that she was missing out on the beautiful world. He instructed all his servants to cover their own eyes, and never mention to the beloved child that she had no sight.

The princess grew up beautiful despite her blindness. She married a handsome prince from a distant land that did not know she was blind.

He told her that she looked beautiful.

She thought he had hiccupped. She pounded his back as if he had hiccupped.

He laughed and loved her all the more for it.

She never understood what he meant when he recited poems that compared her beauty to purple petals of an orchid. She called them nonsense words. He laughed at that, too.

He never understood why she did not concern herself with make-up and decorations and continually bumped into things when she walked alone.

For her part, she never strayed from her beloved with the vanities of the kings, for she could not see to bother with handsome courtiers and innuendo in a glance.

In the end, they lived happily ever after.

The cheers subsided. Djoss collected coins from losers, bowing gracefully to each of his vanquished foes. After he got the last coin from the last boy, he declared that he was going to buy a sack of apples to share with them all, for being such gracious losers.

He told Rachel to stay there.

Rachel frowned. She told her brother that they were supposed to wait here and read.

Djoss rolled his eyes. He disappeared around the corner with the pack of boys, his new friends.

***

Djoss kept the stick with him for days. If he saw his father getting too close to him, he’d smack the man over the head, hard. Rachel’s father hissed and kicked at Djoss. Djoss ran off, jabbing at his father’s legs.

Her mother covered Rachel’s eyes. “Don’t look, little one,” she said, “Don’t look.”

All the guilders for the winner.

***

The family slept at the edge of the village, in a poplar grove. The huge poplars, with their branches pointing to the sky like a bunch of scared pine trees, barely broke the wind off the mountains.

Her father was asleep. He was lying on his side. His head rested on a balled up wad of old cloth. One hand draped over Rachel’s mother’s stomach like he was holding down the red X right where the two lines crossed.

Djoss wasn’t asleep. Neither was the sun. Djoss sat next to his father’s head. He waved at Rachel. “Come here,” he whispered, “Don’t wake them.”

Rachel crawled over on her hands and knees.

Djoss pointed into the man’s ear.

“Look,” whispered Djoss. He pointed into the man’s ear.

Rachel leaned over, but her shadow fell over the ear and she couldn’t see anything. Djoss nudged her out of the way of the sun, so the light could fall into her father’s ear.

She blinked. The insect edge of something like a centipede’s head was down there, looking up at them both, with sharp, tiny mandibles.

“It’s asleep,” said Djoss, “It’s not Dad, but it’s controlling him. That’s what Ma says. She says it’s your father, but not mine.”

“It’s gross,” whispered Rachel, “What is it?”

Djoss frowned. He took his sister’s hand. “Come on,” he said, “Let’s go into town and see if we can get something to eat. You can play a trick and then we’ll get some money and we’ll find something to eat.”

Rachel let her brother lead her away into the village. They walked down a hill to a small fishing village. The town had more taverns than shops, and most of the men spent their days at sea hauling fish in nets to another town on an island over the horizon.

They walked down a hill, and onto the dirt avenue between the buildings. Women waiting for the return of their men swept out the old bones and scales from their plank floors. They looked at the two children walking hand-in-hand to the marketplace, where women had clumps of fish, seafruits, and gathered mushrooms.

Djoss asked the mushroom vendor about the different kind of mushrooms in the mountains.

The old woman smiled. “I know my mushrooms, dear,” she said, “None of mine are bad. I picked them all yesterday.”

“How do you know a good mushroom from a bad one?” said Djoss.

“None of mine are the bad.”

“Don’t even got a single coin,” said Djoss, “I just want to know how you know the difference.”

“If you aren’t buying, best move along, dear,” said the old lady. She smiled. She pulled her baskets back from the two children. “I don’t mean to be rude about it,” she said.

Djoss looked around the marketplace. This early, the shopkeepers had barely all arrived, much less customers.

Rachel reached for a mushroom. “I think this one’s sour,” she said, “I can tell.”

The old woman smacked Rachel’s hand. “How dare you say such a thing, dear! My mushrooms are all clean! I’ve been picking mushrooms for nigh on thirty years and not once has a body gone down from my mushrooms! Get on out of here with your awful accusations!”

Another woman, selling strawberries, laughed. “I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss the girl. Her ma’s that Senta. Mayhap she knows something you don’t.”

“Hush up, Kari!” shouted the old woman, “You’ll be poxing me!”

The strawberry woman, Kari, held up two plump, ripe strawberries. “You two, kids. I’ll give you these free if you promise to leave us be.”

Rachel immediately grabbed the strawberries. She shoved one into her mouth whole. Djoss had to force Rachel’s hand open to acquire the other strawberry for himself. Red juice smeared her lips and her fingers. She licked at her hands.

Djoss led Rachel into the mountains.

“I’ve got an idea,” he said, “We’ve got to find some mushrooms.”

Rachel was still licking her fingers, though most of the strawberry flavor was gone.