Speakinghast.» Yafatah stiffened. Chaotic images of Trickster masquerading as Old Jamilla overwhelmed her mind, and she began to weep helplessly. Chapter Fifteen Yafatah was too weak to fight Aunt's conviction that she should go to Speakinghast, but Fasilla wasn't. Fasilla listened to what the Jinnjirri healer said with an incredulous expression. She jumped to her feet in Aunt's tiny kitchen, her voice shrill. «That do be near three hundred miles from here! And over fierce bad country, too! Yafatah do be sick, Aunt. What can you be thinking of?» «Hush,» said the Jinnjirri sternly. «Keep your voice down, Fas.» The Jinnjirri inclined her head in the direction of the small bedroom in which Yafatah still lay. «The dose of drugs I gave your daughter was weak. I doubt she's asleep, yet. You don't want to frighten her, Fas.» Fasilla crossed her arms over her chest, staring out of the window at the brilliant Jinnjirri morning. The sky was deep blue and clear. A soft summer breeze rustled the orange and red autumn leaves on the trees standing near the cottage. Fasilla unbuttoned her yellow overtunic. Scowling, Fasilla wondered how long this «Trickster Summer» would last. She wiped sweat off her upper lip. Without looking at Aunt, she tried desperately to come up with a rebuttal to her friend's proposal. «Taking Ya all the way to Speakinghast do be crazy, Aunt. It do be plain crazy.» She shook her head. «I willna' take me daughter through the Eastern Feyborne. Not alone. It be one thing with a full Asilliwir caravan. It do be another alone. Look, if you canna help— we'll leave.» «To catch your clan-kin? They travel the opposite direction from where you must go,» Aunt added, her voice clearly disapproving. Fasilla spun on her old friend. «I know that! Didna' you hear me? I willna' take Yafatah through the mountains!» «She'll be drugged, Fas. Just like she is now.» Fasilla shook her head, her eyes strangely haunted. «I canna do it.» Aunt frowned. Then, glancing out the window she watched Burni remove the harness from one of Fasilla's mares. Aunt had told him to give the roans a rubdown and fresh water to drink. Then Burni was to hobble the two horses and set them free to graze on Aunt's front lawn—making sure they stayed out of the hollyhocks and irises, of course. Aunt took a deep breath, thinking that Burni ought to be outdoors just long enough for her to get through this Feyborne thing with Fasilla. Turning her attention back to the Asilliwir woman sitting at her kitchen table, Aunt said, «Fas—I want you to be honest with me.» She paused, putting a fresh pot of water on to boil for tea. «I want to know why you're afraid of the Feyborne.» Fasilla watched Aunt bend down to stoke the hot coals in the firebox of the kitchen's wood-burning stove. Fasilla shrugged. «There be noo person alive in all Mnemlith who hasna' got a healthy fear of them mountains. And you know that as well as I do, Aunt.» She sipped the remains of her cinnamon-spice tea. «Them mountains be alive with things.» «What kind of things, Fas?» asked Aunt calmly. «Greatkin,» whispered the Asilliwir, her throat constricting. Aunt inclined her head. «You've seen the Greatkin?» Unusual, she thought, for an Asilliwir born. «Not 'the'—just one. I think.» «You don't know?» Fasilla got to her feet and paced. «No, I doon't know. And I doon't want to talk about it, either.» Aunt met Fasilla's eyes sternly. «Exactly where was Yafatah born?» There was a long silence. «Suxonli. It be a tiny village in the Western Feyborne.» Aunt nodded. «I see. So you wintered in the Feyborne sixteen years ago. Unable to leave because you were pregnant with a Tammirring child.» Fasilla nodded. She stopped pacing, her shoulders sagging. «We were close before birth, Ya and I. And I saw things I shouldna' have seen.» «You mean, things you shouldn't have been able to see—as an Asilliwir?» Fasilla nodded again, returning to her seat at the table. She put her head in her hands. «Ya was carnival-begat. It were not my intention to have a child at that time. Especially not a Tammi. We Asilliwir be a kin-loving race. And then Tammi—they do be so cold. So far away in their hearts. I do me best to love the child, but she be so different from me sometimes.» «Inward?» asked Aunt with a reassuring smile. Fasilla nodded, tears streaming down her face. «I havena' said these things to anyone ever before. I doon't want people to think I do be a bad mother.» She raised her head. «I love the child. I love the child fierce, Aunt.» «I believe you.» Aunt paused. «But your love for Ya may not be enough.» Fasilla stared at her good friend. «What can you be meaning?» Aunt took a deep breath, speaking slowly and emphatically. «Just this: Yafatah is a Crossroads Child. Carnival-begat, yes. And carnival time is Greatkin Time. A literal crossroads of possibility—in this case, Rimble's.» At the mention of Trickster, Fasilla swore in Southern Asilliwir. Aunt, who was fluent in the language, smiled, scooping fresh tea into the pot. When Fasilla ran out of expletives, Aunt continued the conversation. «Now most times, Fas, this just means the carnival-begat child is one having unusually strong gifts in some area. Maybe the child becomes a great artist. Or a great teacher. The direction will be determined by landdraw.» Aunt poured steaming tea into Fasilla's cup. The scent of cinnamon sweetened the air. «Sometimes, though, something more comes through during a festival of the kind you attended.» «Something more?» Fasilla didn't like the sound of this. «Yes. It's called a Gift of Spirit. It's a power. Needs training, too.» Fasilla's mouth went dry. «What kind of power.» «Depends on the Greatkin involved.» She poured herself some tea. «Since it's Rimble, we'll have to assume Yafatah's Gift of Spirit has something to do with making change possible. Rimble-Rimble, you know.» Fasilla said nothing. Aunt smiled. «How you ever ended up at a rowdy, wanton Rimble's Revel completely eludes me, though. 'Psychotropics' was not exactly your favorite class at school, as I recall.» She waited for Fasilla to explain. Fasilla swallowed. As school chums, they had argued well into the night over the proper and improper uses of mind- altering herbs and potions.
Aunt's stance had been typically Jinnjirri: the less control the better. Fasilla shrugged. «I went on a dare.» She smiled weakly. «I canna ever resist a good dare, you know. Gets me Asilliwir blood up.» Aunt chuckled. «Trickster seduced you with a dare. Interesting.» «Trickster had nothing to do with it! I didna' begat Yafatah with a Greatkin. I begat her with a Jinnjirri.» Aunt was taken aback. «My, the revel did change you.» Her face briefly shifted to that of a man's and then returned to that of a woman's—making an obvious visual reference to her unrequited love affair with Fasilla some seventeen years ago on the salty fishing coast of western Piedmerri. Fasilla crossed her arms over her chest indignantly. «I was hardly myself at the revel, Aunt! I was under the influence! Under the influence!» «Of Trickster?» she asked idly. «Or of the Jinnjirri?» Fasilla's eyes blazed. «Of some foul hallucinogenic mixture! The villagers of Suxonli called it 'Rimble's Remedy.' « Aunt's Jinnjirri hair turned a sickly chartreuse color. «Ah, yes. Three parts holovespa royal jelly and one part powdered suxon mushroom. Their so- called 'secret recipe.' Sheer mind fire. Pretty and very toxic.» Fasilla licked her lips with distaste. «The color of your hair do be the way my stomach feels at the thought of the stuff.» She shrugged. «Anyway, I conceived Yafatah under fierce weird circumstances.» «What did you expect from a Trickster's Hallows, Fas?» snorted Aunt. Then the healer added, «But you always were an innocent, weren't you? Perfect dupe.» Aunt rubbed her eyes tiredly. «Look, Fas, this isn't going to be easy for you. None of it. Especially this next part. See, in certain terms—you must take Yafatah to Speakinghast. You must.» Fasilla regarded Aunt with suspicion and defiance. Aunt gestured imploringly at Fasilla. «I can't do what needs doing for Yafatah. I also can't train her the way Doogat can—» «I can train me own daughter!» retorted Fasilla angrily. Aunt brought her fist down on the table. «No! No, you can'tl This thing is much bigger than you, Fas! And it's not in your control!» The Asilliwir herbalist laughed at the Jinnjirri. She started to get to her feet, but Aunt grabbed her arm and held her to her seat. Leaning close to Fasilla, Aunt said cooly, «Okay, Fas. Try this out. I'm not what I appear to be; I'm a Mayanabi Nomad.» Aunt paused, letting the words sink in. «Yes. One of them. You see, you've stumbled into something very large.» Fasilla jerked her arm out of Aunt's grasp and slumped in her chair. «This—this canna be,» she whispered, her eyes shocked. Her oldest friend in the world was a crazy religious person? Fasilla clenched her fists, wanting to scream. Nothing was as it was supposed to be. Nothing! Fasilla regarded Aunt with contempt and asked, «How long do you be this—Mayanabi?» «Since childhood. I was born into it.» «And you never told me?» Fasilla snapped coldly. Her tone of voice and expression suggested that she perceived Aunt as the carrier of a fatal disease. A disease Aunt had exposed her to without her permission. «Your prejudice—to use a euphemism—prevented me, Fas. I liked you. Even loved you.» Aunt paused. «I thought you might end our friendship if you knew I was a Mayanabi Nomad.» There was a short pause. Fasilla bit her lower lip. «I would have,» she admitted, her face scarlet with conflicting emotions. She averted her eyes from Aunt's steady, dispassionate gaze. «I would have,» she repeated in a whisper. Fasilla put her head in her hands and added forlornly, «Greatkin have mercy on me.» She had just realized the far reaching effect of her religious prejudice. Aunt grunted. «So, will you run out the door—or open your mind?» Fasilla got up from the table, tears slipping down her cheeks. «Excuse me for a moment,» she said hoarsely. «I—I need to check on Yafatah.» Fasilla knew it was a weak excuse to get some time alone; she knew Aunt knew it, too. Fine, she thought numbly. «I—I do be right back. Promise.» Aunt nodded her head and reached for the loaf of bread on the table. Fasilla left the kitchen hastily and opened the bedroom door. Yafatah lay sound asleep on a blue summer quilt, her breathing regular, her face peaceful. Fasilla stood beside her child in silence, her expression bewildered and slightly scared. She caressed Yafatah's damp forehead. Fasilla's eyes brimmed with more tears. «I do be loving you, child. And if that do mean we must go to Speakinghast, then so be it. That be me commitment to you, Ya. That be me commitment to you.» Fasilla wiped away her tears with a handkerchief from her pocket. Blowing her nose softly, she left the room where her child slept, shutting the door to the tiny bedroom quietly behind her. She smiled wanly at Aunt when she returned to the kitchen. Aunt, who was busy buttering a second piece of bread, met Fasilla's
