she too was pregnant.) Would they have to throw themselves on the mercy of the Melski? They could if they had to, but Yen Olass wanted to be independent for once. She wanted to live her own life, not be a charity guest in someone else's household.
Pausing by the burnt-out stockade, Yen Olass rubbed her hand over one of the posts. Fire had eaten deeply into the wood, eating black charcoal gulches deep into the timber. It was warm to the touch; her hand came away black from the charcoal. She reached out to dab Resbit's checks with this make-up, but Resbit ducked away. Yen Olass chased her, then:
'Look out!' screamed Yen Olass.
Resbit froze, then looked around wildly. Earth, sky, stockade.
'What?' said Resbit, frightened. 'What is it?' 'The ground. Look.’
Now Resbit saw it. A pattern of cracks leading in to a faintly depressed centre.
'Another Resbit trap, I bet,' said Yen Olass.
She fetched a heavy stick so she could break open the ground and reveal the pit beneath. But the ground refused to break.
'There's nothing there,' said Resbit.
'There is too,' said Yen Olass. 'Don't do that!’
But, disregarding this injunction, Resbit advanced until she Was standing in the shallow depression. She stamped down hard.
'It's a trap!' shouted Yen Olass. 'You'll fall through!' 293
Resbit danced up and down, doing a war whoop. Then she stopped, looking up at the sky. High overhead was a bird – probably a hawk.
'Look, Yen Olass. A bird. In a bird-trap. It's caught there. Oh, and I can see a funny kind of net in the forest. There's a spider stuck in the middle. A spider trap. Oh, and, look at all those leaves. They're stuck to the trees. They can't get away. They're trapped. Yen Olass, what can we do to help them? Oh help, Yen Olass, help me, I'm stuck on this brown stuff, I'm trying to jump, I can't get free.’
And Resbit jumped up and down on the earth, whooping again. Yen Olass lost her temper and heaved the stick at her. Resbit rolled out of the way and collapsed on the ground, panting and laughing.
'There's something down there,' said Yen Olass, grimly.
'Yes,' said Resbit slyly. 'Probably a gamos.’
'You'll see,' said Yen Olass.
She hunted round for a sharp stick to dig with, then squatted down in the centre of the depression and started stabbing the earth viciously.
'There's nothing down there,' said Resbit. 'You're imagining it.’
Yen Olass did not reply, but hacked away at the earth. 'Oh come on. Don't be like that. Can't I have a little fun now and then? Don't sulk, Yen Olass.' 'I'm not sulking, I'm digging.’
'And really enjoying yourself, I'm sure. Lots of fun. If you strike gold, give me a call.’
And so saying, Resbit wandered off, pausing now and then to scratch patterns in the dust with the toe of her boot.
'Where are you going?’
'I'll be on the beach if you want me.’
'Come and help me dig.’
'I'm going to dig my own hole. In the lake. I'll dig down into the water so I can find some fish. I bet I find something before you do, Yen Olass.’
But before going down to the lake, Resbit had to go and have a good look at the five bodies swinging from the gallows. Flies buzzed away as she approached. She looked at them for some time, glutting her curiosity. They were really dead. Once they had been up and about, walking the world on their hind legs, eating fish and sticking their things into dogs and women, and now they were entirely finished with all that. Their faces were opening, revealing the bones. It was hard to say what they had looked like.
With one shy, hesitant hand, Resbit reached out and gave one of the men a tiny push, shoving at one of his boots. He swung from the gallows. The rope holding him creaked faintly, Resbit stepped back, in case the rope broke and dropped the man down into her arms.
She shuddered.
She had seen enough.
Yen Olass was still grubbing in the earth, grunting and swearing. She did have a temper when she was roused. Vaguely, Resbit remembered her Rovac warrior, Elkor Alish. He used to have a temper, and had showed it on the rare occasions when she had dared to cross him. She remembered his cold fury, and the way he had bruised her face once, knocking her backwards so that she ended up on the floor. Yet, other times he had been kind. It was his child she was carrying, and she did not regret it.
Slowly, Resbit made her way down to the beach, avoiding the pit in the middle of the track. The Melski were already a long way down the beach, tiny figures diminishing in the distance. Resbit took off her boots. Her socks stank. They were going into holes. If she could get material, she would make footbindings like those Yen Olass used. But there was not much chance of that.
Resbit wiggled her toes. They felt happy to be out in the warm sunshine. It was a good day for naked toes. And naked bodies, maybe. Slowly, Resbit stripped off her clothes. She stood there naked on the beach, with the freefalling sunlight caressing her skin. Lightly, she touched her nipples, her breasts, her stomach, her flanks. Thinking of her child shaping within her darkness, she smiled. She looked out across the lake, out across a shimmering immensity of water.
She felt incredibly free without her clothes. And without… without fear. It was a new and delightful sensation to be able to act without being constrained by conventions which specified slander, calumny and rape as the punishment for so many acts of selfhood which a woman might wish to undertake.
Resbit walked down to the water's edge. The beach was made of small stones and the shells of fresh-water shellfish. The most recent shells were a pale blue; the older ones were bleached white, and had sometimes splintered to a crackle. Resbit waded out into the lake until the water infiltrated the fuzz of fur at her crotch. Half water, half sky, she stood there, suddenly exhilarated. She felt as if all the trials of her life were justified by this one perfect moment. And she thought:
– It is enough.
Gathering a breath into her lungs, she dived. Limpid shadows floated below her as the impetus of her body was damped down by the water. Finally she hung motionless, gazing down at the underwater world below her.
First lifting her head to take in air, she swum downward, then turned a slow, lazy somersault underwater. She blew out air, watched it globe into bubbles, then chased them to the surface. She was a perfectly fluid, fluent animal, free from the constraints of gravity.
Her hair misted in front of her face. Which reminded her of when she had last washed it – about half a year ago. Standing in the shallows, she rubbed her hair vigorously, scratching at her scalp. Then she attended to the rest of her body. The water round about her grew dark with a spreading stain; she felt immensely invigorated and refreshed.
She lay down in the water and floated on her back, kicking gently with her feet. She propelled herself round in huge, leisurely circles till she grew tired, and made her way to the shore. There she spread her coat on the beach and laid her body down on that battered luxury, and went to sleep.
Resbit was awakened when someone kissed her buttocks. Opening her eyes, she craned her neck and saw it was Yen Olass. Who now came and sat down by her head. Resbit propped her chin on her hands, her elbows braced against her coat, and studied Yen Olass, liking the strength she saw there. Having cleaned her own body rigorously, she was aware that Yen Olass stank of sweat, grease, earth, blood, rancid fat and earwax. She did not find this unduly offensive, but even so:
'You need a bath,' said Resbit lazily.
'Later,' said Yen Olass. 'When we've finished digging.’
'We? Dearest heart, if you want to grub away with the beetles, that's your business, not mine.’
Yen Olass flicked something into the air. It nickered into the sunlight then fell with a plop just in front of Resbit. It was a golden coin.
'You told me to call you if I struck gold.’
