at least.
'You've fed him your muck,' the boy (whose medallion
undoubtedly proclaimed him John, Loved of Family, Loved of
God) said `Why don't you go, and let us have a natter?'
'Well!' Sister Coquina huffed. 'I like the gratitude around here, so I
do!'
'I'm grateful for what's given me,' Norman responded, looking at
her steadily, 'but not for what folk would take away.'
Tamra snorted through her nose, turned violently enough for her
swirling dress to push a draught of air into Roland's face, and then
took her leave. Coquina stayed a moment.
'Be discreet, and mayhap someone ye like better than ye like me
will get out of hack in the morning, instead of a week from
tonight.'
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and followed Sister Tamra.
Roland and John Norman waited until they were both gone, and
then Norman turned to Roland and spoke in a low voice. 'My
brother. Dead?'
Roland nodded. 'The medallion I took in case I should meet with
any of his people. It rightly belongs to you. I'm sorry for your loss.'
'Thankee-sai. ' John Norman's lower lip trembled, then firmed. 'I
knew the green men did for him, although these old biddies
wouldn't tell me for sure. They did for plenty, and cotched the rest.'
'Perhaps the Sisters didn't know for sure.'
'They knew. Don't you doubt it. They don't say much, but they
know plenty. The only one any different is Jenna. That's who the
old battle-axe meant when she said 'your friend'. Aye?'
Roland nodded. 'And she said something about the Dark Bells. I'd
know more of that, if would were could.'
'She's something special, Jenna is. More like a princess - someone
whose place is made by bloodline and can't be refused - than like
the other Sisters. I lie here and look like I'm asleep - it's safer, I
think - but I've heard 'em talking. Jenna's just come back among
'em recently, and those Dark Bells mean something special ... but
Mary's still the one who swings the weight. I think the Dark Bells
are only ceremonial, like the rings the old Barons used to hand
down from father to son. Was it she who put Jimmy's medal
around your neck?'
'Yes.'
'Don't take it off, whatever you do.' His face was strained, grim. 'I
don't know if it's the gold or the God, but they don't like to get too
close. I think that's the only reason I'm still here.' Now his voice
dropped all the way to a whisper. 'They ain't human.'
'Well, perhaps a bit fey and magical, but-`
'No!' With what was clearly an effort, the boy got up on one elbow.
He looked at Roland earnestly. 'You're thinking about hubber-
women, or witches. These ain't hubbers, nor witches, either. They
ain't human!'
'Then what are they?'
