“I wish we were sisters.”
“Why? Sisters aren’t so much.” Stavia made a face, thinking of Myra.
“Oh, it’s just I wish you were my own family. I wish you belonged to me.” Beneda flushed, embarrassed at this declaration. “That sounds silly.”
“No, it doesn’t. It sounds nice. But I don’t have to be your sister to belong to you, Beneda. We’ll belong to each other, all right?” She put the book she had been reading down and hugged Beneda back, suddenly full of joyous warmth to replace the vacancy the book had evoked. “I wasn’t really grieving, I guess. I just hate those people who made the desolations, that’s all. They robbed us.”
“Which is why we must obey the ordinances, so we don’t rob our own descendants,” quoted Beneda primly, waiting for Stavia to recover herself. “Do you want to quiz me about the Laplanders?”
“Tell me about the Laplanders,” Stavia asked obediently, still wet-eyed, taking hold of Beneda’s hand.
“They lived way up in the north where it was cold and snowy most of the time. They made clothes out of felt, like we do. Way back they followed these wild deer around, and it was hard to keep the animals together, so they picked the bulls that didn’t run off and bred from those. And they milked them, too, the females, I mean, the cows. And they used deer hides to dress in. And the Lady knows what they did for fresh vegetables, because the book doesn’t say….”
“I wonder if they’re still there.”
“Where?”
“In Lapland. I wonder if they still exist. They might, you know.”
“Well, we’ll never know. That was on the other side of the world. But the book says they guaranteed both their own survival and the animals’ by domesticating them, so maybe they still exist.”
“Maybe one of these days, when the Women’s Country exploration team goes out, they’ll find a way through! Or maybe they’ll decide to send a ship all the way across the ocean!”
“They did that hundreds of years ago, Stavia! The ship never came back!”
“Maybe they’ll decide it’s time to try it again. Things could have changed. Anyhow, when the next team goes in ten years, maybe I’ll go along as medical officer.”
“Small chance.” Beneda made a teasing face.
“No, big chance. I think I’m going to Abbyville to the medical academy. Maybe in a couple of years. There could be a chance.” She stopped, her eye caught by movement on the parade ground below them. “Someone’s waving at us.” Stavia jumped to her feet, surprised.
Someone was crossing the parade ground toward the stairs which led to the roof of the armory. From the armory roof to the wall top was only about twelve feet, which made the armory roof a favorite spot for the arrangement of assignations. “Is that Chernon?” Stavia asked. She had seen Chernon only in his white ceremonial tunic. This boy wore dull tan sheepskin work clothes.
“Stavia?” he called as he came up the stairs. “Remember me?”
“Chernon?”
“Right. Is that Beneda with you?”
“Are you my brother?” Beneda leaned across the wall, and Stavia caught her around the waist, afraid she would tip herself over.
“I haven’t seen you since you were about six or seven years old.” Chernon smiled up at her from under heavy eyelids, a measuring smile.
“Mother told me what happened. I’m so sorry, Chernon.”
“Me, too. That warrior, the crazy one, the one who was bothering me, well, he’s dead now. He got killed during a bandit sweep. Would you tell Mother? Please. I’d like to come home this carnival. Or at least visit. Aunt Erica is fine, but I’d like to see you. And Mother.” His eyes were frankly pleading now, his lips quivering, ever so slightly.
“And the girls.”
“And the girls.” He cast a watchful look at the garrison grounds. “I can’t stay here. Boys aren’t supposed to be up here, only warriors. Besides, I’m on sleeper-in duty. I’ve got one quarter of the eight century to look after. Listen, there’s a storeroom in the wall down past the west end of the parade ground. It’s got some junk in it, but if you come to the outside wall there’s a hole you can talk through or shove stuff through. Some of the warriors use it to make assignations. Bring me word there, will you? I can be there at noon, tomorrow….”
His voice trailed away as he heard a trumpet calling from behind the barracks. “The fourteens! My section,” he said, then called softly as he raced down the stairs and away, “Remember.”
The two girls stared at one another, scarcely believing the brief encounter. “Chernon,” breathed Beneda. “Oh, Stavvy, that’s wonderful. I think he likes you, you know? The way he looked at you.”
“Let’s find this place he spoke about,” Stavia suggested in a practical voice. Her insides did not feel at all practical. They felt liquefied. It was a strange, almost indecent feeling, and she did not want to deal with it, or even consider it. “If you’re going to be there at noon tomorrow to give him the message, then you’ll need to know where it is.”
There were stairs from the wall down into a street slightly east of the plaza. From there they crossed the plaza, speckled with lunchtime sun-searchers, and found a twisting alley leading between the wall and a two-storied row of assignation houses, their doors and windows open for a semiannual cleaning prior to carnival. Along the alley were several locked doors and, at the end, an unlocked one. The room within was spider-veiled and full of rubbish, but someone had made a path through the trash to the far wall. The hole was at shoulder level, an opening the size of a hand, broken through a four-foot width of wall. Light came in from the far end, a pale spot marbled by wavering shadows.
“It’s behind a tree,” mused Stavia. “That’s why no one
