Contrarywise

imagined several possible outcomes. «Think Love can outsmart Deviance?» Eldest shrugged, her expression also thoughtful. «Don't know.» Jinndaven grinned. «Well, I'd like to see her try.» Themyth picked up the hem of her long coat of tales and touched one or two of the brightly colored appliques. She chuckled. «Me, too.» She inclined her head. «I better go have that talk with Phebes. And you—» she said pointing a bony finger at the Greatkin of Imagination, «mum's the word. If Trickster finds out we're helping Phebene—» «We!» cried Jinndaven. «We,» repeated Themyth firmly. «Just remember, dear fellow, you and Phebene are sitting next to Trickster for the Panthe'kinarok. That's nine courses, Jinn.» Jinndaven licked his lips, eyeing the table behind them. «We couldn't change the cards around again?» «No, we couldn't,» said Eldest. Jinndaven rolled his eyes and began thinking of ways to help the Greatkin of Love outsmart Trickster. Chapter Fourteen Fasilla reined her roan mares to a stop just outside a small thatched cottage. The cottage was whitewashed, its shutters bright yellow. Rows of orange hollyhocks and royal blue irises fanned the short space between the windows and the dark, rich earth of the Jinnjirri healer's front lawn. Fasilla stared at the flowers in surprise. It was nearly autumn; these flowers were not only out of season, they weren't native to Jinnjirri. Fasilla shrugged. Well, anything could happen in the borderlands of a draw like Jinnjirri's. Especially if a Jinnjirri named Aunt lived on the premises. Fasilla pulled Yafatah to the side of the wagon. Jumping to the ground lightly, the Asilliwir woman coaxed Yafatah to do the same. The young girl did so hesitantly, her eyes half-closed, her face pale. As Yafatah joined her mother on Jinnjirri soil, the door to the cottage behind them opened abruptly. «Hey,» said a young man's voice. «Like—uh—are you expected or anything?» Fasilla turned around. Before her stood an Asilliwir lad of about sixteen. His hair was short around the bottom of his neck, the top crowning his head with a mop of varied lengths and braids. He might be Asilliwir born, thought Fasilla drily, but this young punk had clearly adopted all things Jinnjirri. Especially his mishmash of brightly colored clothing— complete with tiny round mirrors and glass sequins. Fasilla stood closer to her daughter, encircling Yafatah's waist with her tanned arm. «No,» said Fasilla brusquely. «We doon't be expected. I be an old friend of Aunt's.» She paused. «This be me daughter, Yafatah. She do be ill, so if we could be cutting the conversation? Be Aunt about or noo?» The Asilliwir lad ignored Fasilla's question, peering at Yafatah. «Tammirring, huh?» He chuckled in disbelief. «Greatkin—you brought a Tammi through the Northwest Shift? Didn't you read the warning signs?» «There do be none where we crossed!» snapped Fasilla, resenting the boy's suggestion that she might be an idiot. Yafatah had never had serious trouble with Jinnjirri draw in the past. Why should this time have been so different? The boy eyed her with amusement. He bowed grandly to Fasilla and asked, «Whom may I say is calling at this preposterous hour?» Fasilla's face colored. She had been so intent on getting Yafatah to Aunt, she had completely forgotten the time. Fasilla squinted at the newly rising sun. «Five forty-five,» said the boy with an insolent smile. Fasilla lost her temper. «My name do be Fasilla of Ian Abbi. I was one of Aunt's closest schoolmates in Piedmerri. So watch your mouth!» «Hey—like I could care,» retorted the lad. «Seems everybody's related to Aunt one way or another. That's why she's Aunt. So—like why don't you just back off, okay?» he said huffily. «Try camping out here for a couple of hours. That way Aunt can get at least two hours of sleep!» he added with obvious contempt for Fasilla's thoughtlessness. «Two hours of sleep? What—» «Yeah. Two friggin' hours, lady. We've been having some trouble with the border weather. Aunt's been up all night trying to straighten it out. The flowers think it's spring, see. So do the trees. Ever heard a tree scream? Well, you will when Old Man Frost comes through here in about two weeks— with winter catching a free ride on his coattails.» The lad grunted. «We got a name for warm days like these: Trickster Summer.» Fasilla glanced at Yafatah. Her dark-haired daughter had started shivering at the mention of Trickster's name. Fasilla touched Yafatah's cheek reassuringly. She turned back to the Asilliwir lad. «If you would be so kind as to wake Aunt, I will take the consequences of her displeasure.» «What displeasure?» boomed Aunt's voice out of the second floor dormer window. «Fas—you've aged! Get your ass in here and tell me why! Burni,» she yelled at the Asilliwir, «take them to the kitchen. Put a brew on while you're at it. And make it black. I've got to prop my eyes open with something. Might as well be tea.» The window slammed shut. «Your name be Burni?» asked Fasilla as she and Yafatah walked in the front door to Aunt's cheery cottage. «Yeah,» he replied indifferently. «I used to be an arsonist.» Fasilla rolled her eyes, muttering, «Great.» As she and Yafatah found seats in Aunt's tiny kitchen—lifting cut materials and dried herbs out of the way—Fasilla was careful to put Yafatah as far away from Burni as possible; she didn't want her only child coming under the influence of someone as dubious as a former arsonist. Aunt entered the kitchen a few moments later clothed in nothing but a striped cotton nightshirt. Jinnjirri born. Aunt had long colorful hair that sprayed out of her head like a cascade of spiky rainbows. At thirty-six, Fasilla's exact age, Aunt was still a beautiful—if not exotic—woman. Or man. Currently, Aunt was a woman to please Fasilla. She remembered that her Asilliwir friend had been more than a little unnerved by an unexpected (but flattering) gender change on Aunt's part one lazy, hot summer between school terms in Piedmerri. Of course, there had been sexual implications in that change. Fasilla had been firm; she didn't want to introduce such complications into their three-year friendship. And that was final, said Fasilla, at the time. Aunt studied the strain in Fasilla's posture and face. Fasilla had changed in the past twenty years since Herbalist School. Aunt wondered why, glancing at Yafatah. Aunt's eyes widened. Walking hurriedly to the girl's side, Aunt turned accusingly to Burni and Fasilla, saying: «Why did no one tell me she had shift fever?» Burni shrugged, pouring cups of hot cinnamon-spice tea for everyone. «Shift fever may na' be all she has,» said Fasilla slowly. «Otherwise, I would've given her baneberry and comfrey and let her sleep it off.» Aunt nodded her head, her hazel eyes peering into Yafatah's green ones. «I see what you mean. Let's bring her in here,» she added, leading Yafatah into a small bedroom off of the kitchen. «Burni, you be nice to Fas while I examine the child.» «Doon't you want me with you?» asked Fasilla, getting to her feet. «I mean you might have questions. And it do be more complicated, Aunt. It do. Yafatah hasna' been sleeping well—» Aunt shook her head, her thick mop of hair falling forward over Yafatah's slight shoulders. «Fas—you worry too much. You always have. Now sit and drink your tea like a good girl. And let me do my job, eh?» «But—» «Sit,» repeated Aunt, shutting the bedroom door in Fasilla's face. There was an awkward silence between Fasilla and Burni. The boy shrugged. «She's quite good, you know. Especially with this kind of thing. Typical border born. Very opinionated.» He grinned. «Opinions are 'bout the only things that don't shift around here.» Fasilla grunted. She'd forgotten how opinionated Aunt could be. Glancing at the pans and knickknacks hanging on the walls, she said, «Typical Aunt clutter. Just like our old dorm room together. She used to call me an Asilliwir simpleton.» Fasilla laughed. «I couldna' find anything in Aunt's mess. She could, though. Every time.» The bedroom door opened abruptly. Aunt ignored Fasilla's inquiring look and called to Burni, «Get me some of that fresh wheat juice in the icebox, will you? And a glass.» The door shut again. Fasilla shrugged. Wheat juice was harmless enough. Strong and very green, but harmless. She wondered what Aunt wanted with it, watching Burni rummage in the cold storage of the literal icebox. The boy looked over his shoulder at Fasilla, starting to laugh. «I can't find it—» «Here—let me look,» said Fasilla getting to her feet to help. Several minutes elasped. The bedroom door opened again. Seeing the two Asilliwir with their heads stuck in the icebox, Aunt started swearing good naturedly at them both. Leaving Yafatah for the moment, then Jinnjirri pulled Fasilla and Burni away from the overflowing shelves. She reached in once, and pulled out a tall bottle of thick, green liquid. «Asilliwir simpletons,» muttered Aunt, grabbing a glass and disappearing into the bedroom once more. Burni and Fasilla looked at each other. Chuckles soon followed. Aunt, who was listening on the other side of the door, said, «Good. Can't work in a house full of worry.» Putting the green tonic aside—it had already served its use—Aunt sat very still beside Yafatah. She brushed a strand of dark hair out of the child's damp face and added softly, «You just relax, child. I've got to get a second opinion. It'll just take a moment.» Yafatah nodded and stared wearily at the wall. Aunt closed her eyes. Her breathing slowed and deepened. A short while later, she smiled. There had been an answering tug on the other end of the psychic line; the Irreverent Old Doogat of Suf had received her message. He relayed that he needed a few minutes to consider the problem. Please keep the line open, he said, and he'd get back to her as soon as he could. Aunt leaned back in her chair, waiting patiently for Doogat's long distance reply. This was a convenient method of communication, but it was only possible between Mayanabi of at least Sixth Rank and up. Aunt, like Doogat, was a Mayanabi Nomad. With hard work and application, Burni would become her student sometime in the next year. At present, the boy thought he was merely apprenticing to a master herbalist. He had no idea that Aunt was a Sixth Rank, Twenty-two Degree initiate of the infamous Order of the Mayanabi Nomads. Such rank was no small feat at Aunt's relatively tender age. The Jinnjirri healer straightened in her chair; Doogat's reply was coming in now. Aunt's ready smile faded. She opened her hazel eyes slowly, her gaze falling on the young, dark-haired girl lying on the bed beside her. She studied Yafatah with bewilderment. The Tammirring smiled wanly at her. Aunt masked her present consternation with a cheery grin. She patted Yafatah's clammy hand and said, «Well now, child—seems you and your Ma have a bit of a journey ahead of you. Seems my 'second opinion' wants to see you for himself.» Yafatah struggled to speak. Her head felt as if it might split open from pain, and each word was an effort. «Where—do—he—be—liv—ing?» Aunt leaned over and massaged Yafatah's tense neck, her hands warm and gentle. «Speakinghast, child. Doogat lives in