He did a quick tally of the useful devices he still carried, considered immediate departure, and decided to defer escape until he’d had a chance to rest a bit. He conveyed this in a quick series of Enforcer gestures, at which Zasper nodded and lay down on the other cot, groaning in his turn. Chances were any conversation would be overheard. Since they could think of nothing harmless to say, they merely lay quiet, waiting upon the pleasure of Mother-dear.
That pleasure came too soon to allow them much rest. The sister guards escorted them down to the village plaza where Mother-dear (whether the only such or one of several) sat in a huge carved chair, her villager children clustered about her. She wore a vast flowered dress, like a tent, and her flesh overflowed the chair. Her breasts were like long balloons bulging from chest to abdomen, and her arms were braceleted and dimpled with fat. Around her stood her sister guards, muscular, slender women all. Only Mother-dear carried the great burden of flesh that signified her divinity.
The men only glanced at Mother-dear, their eyes drawn to the being beside her. It looked suspiciously like the thing they had destroyed at the mud pool.
“This messenger arrived earlier to tell us you were loose in Beanfields,” said Mother-dear, stroking Danivon’s arm. “Who is your mother, grown boy?” Her voice was concerned and maternal, like a local grandma concerned for the safety of a neighbor child.
“My mother is Lalla-balla, Mother-dear,” said Danivon in his most humble voice. “She is a Council Enforcer, as are we. She was supposed to be with us.”
The thing beside Mother-dear sparkled and shifted, listening to each word they said.
Mother-dear turned to Zasper. “And yours, old boy?”
“Lalla-balla, also, Mother-dear. My brother speaks truthfully. She was supposed to be with us.”
“Where is she?”
“We think a gaver took her,” said Zasper. “For she went to the river and did not return.” He felt tears on his cheeks and made no effort to wipe them away. They were honest tears, tears he had managed not to shed until now. Speaking his fears for Fringe had brought them to his cheeks unbidden.
“Does she have sisters who will come to claim you?” Mother-dear asked in a more pleasant voice. She had seen the tears and was moved by them. These must be good boys to grieve for their mother so.
Zasper and Danivon shook their heads. Danivon said, “She does, Mother-dear, but it will take them some time to arrive after they know she is gone. She was on very important business for her mother. We beg that you take us as your boys and let us continue the duty our mother set us on.”
“You know our rules?”
Danivon sighed within. Oh, yes, he did indeed. “Yes, Mother-dear.”
“The fact that you are outlanders from Tolerance does not excuse your being loose without a mother. You know that?”
“Yes, Mother-dear.” Danivon swallowed resentment, watching the device from the corners of his eyes. It sat and glittered and shifted. What was it doing? Reporting back? Summoning others?
Mother-dear went on: “When your own mother’s sisters come to redeem you and pay the fine for your wandering loose, you may go on with their business. If so, well and good. Only if it is clear they will not come for you could I consider taking you as my boys. Even then, you would have to work off the fine before I could send you to complete your own mother’s task.” She looked them frankly up and down, as though deciding what work she might have them do. “You, grown boy, I would have blinded and take you as a lover. You are nicely built, and I have been wanting a new lover.”
“Blinded!” gulped Danivon, shocked out of his Enforcer poise. “Why blinded?”
“Blind boys make the best lovers for Mothers,” she said, preening. “They are not put off by the magnificence of what they see. And as for you,” she turned to Zasper. “I have no doubt you could be caponized to make an excellent kitchen boy.”
Zasper croaked, “Mother-dear, allow me to bring you a warning our mother told us of….”
“Old boy, hush. Boys do not warn Mothers. This is impudence, and if it is repeated, Mother will spank!” Mother-dear’s flesh quivered in outrage, and around her the sister guards bristled.
“May we at least go to the river to look for our mother?” begged Danivon. “She may be injured but alive, needing help.”
Mother-dear regarded him expressionlessly. Beside her the gadget glistened and quivered. “I will think on it,” she said at last. “I will consider it until morning.”
They were taken back up the hill, stumbling a little on the jagged rock of the outcropping, and returned to their room, though this time several guards were posted outside. Though the walls were of stone and the window barred, it was comfortable enough. Mother did not hurt her children unnecessarily. So the people of Beanfields were taught. Of course, when it was necessary, she did hurt them. Mother-dear would spank. They were taught that also.
“Likely Mother-dear has sent her sisters to look along the riverbank already,” said Danivon, gripping the window bars with both hands and shaking them as though to determine their strength. “They go at once to the aid of any woman in danger. But our mother …” He leaned close to Zasper’s ear. “Fringe wouldn’t have been on this side. You told her the destination of the Dove was on the east side, so she’d have been crossing over.”
“Beanfields women won’t cross over to Thrasis, that’s certain. There used to be some raiding between the two provinces, but we put an end to that decades ago,” Zasper whispered in return. “You don’t think it happened in Thrasis?”
Danivon shook his head, sniffing, pointing westward, mouthing, “There, quite some way. Not north of us at all.” “Then beyond the wall.” “I believe so.” “Noplace.”
Danivon laughed shortly, silently, and said aloud, “Noplace is safe, wouldn’t you say?”
“What was that thing
