“I’ve bought some boy’s clothes, ostensibly for my nephew. You’ll need a name. Think of one that pleases you. The clothes are already in the wagon. Anything else you need to take, you’ll need to smuggle down to me over the next couple of days.”
“The mule will carry what we can’t?”
“Yes, but we should still keep our belongings light. You won’t be a girl, remember, and we both should look a bit scruffy and travel worn—decently clean, but not polished. I’ve found a cap that’ll cover your hair if you can braid it up.”
“I’ve been practicing.”
“Now, one final thing: It’s been my experience that no matter how good a plan is, things can go wrong, so one should always have another plan in place, just in case. If anything happens to delay you, I’ll wait with the wagon! One day, two, seven, whatever, I’ll wait with the wagon. If you need me or need to let me know something, can you send your friend?”
“If I knew where you were, certainly,” said the fisher, sticking his head out of Xulai’s jacket pocket, which was deep and wide enough to hide him completely, though he had grown some in the last few days.
Abasio nodded. “You heard what I told Xulai. Follow the road until you’re well out of sight of the abbey. Look for a long straight stretch with outcroppings of red rock on the right-hand side. It’s the first red rock you’ll see. Directly across from the third outcropping, on the other side of the road, you’ll see three big pine trees in a straight line. Right now there’s a pile of brush I cut and stacked between the leftmost and middle tree. I’ll spread it around to hide the wagon tracks when I take the wagon in. Behind the brush, follow the tracks.
“Now, that’s if you’re delayed. If I’m in the wagon and everything is all right, there’ll be a straight line of flat stones between the first and second tree, where the brush is now. I figure if anyone takes me out of there, I’ll have a chance to scatter those stones with my feet, or Blue will. If the stones are scattered, go away.”
“Or hide and watch, or creep around and see what’s happened,” said Xulai.
He looked at her face for a long moment before he nodded. “You’ve been taught.”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “I’ve been taught. I didn’t realize how much I’d been taught. Some of it I must have practiced alone, in the woods, without realizing what I was doing. At school they were quite surprised. In the personal attack class I was entered as a women’s level seven. Most students, of course, start as a one.”
“How many levels are there?”
“Nine. Bear is a nine. Men’s nine. Men are simply bigger and stronger than women, so women have to be quicker and cleverer than men. When I thought I was a child, I wasn’t nearly that good. About a three or four. Well, it wouldn’t have been appropriate for a seven-year-old to be any better than that, would it?”
The following morning she woke before dawn, not out of anticipation or excitement but because she was in discomfort. Perhaps she had the cramping feeling Precious Wind had told her to expect as part of this whole woman thing. If what they had told her was correct, she would have to do something about the resultant messiness also, but that idea was driven out of her head by a moment of really horrible, very intimate pain. She started to cry out to Oldwife, who snored gently in the other bed, but as suddenly as it had come, the pain passed, all the tension let go, and she relaxed, very peacefully, feeling as though she’d had several glasses of wine or some gentle, lovely euphoric.
She lay quietly, enjoying the feeling, until the first pale light lit the window. She threw back the covers and got out of bed, turning as she did so to inspect the sheets. They were stainless, white, except for a small spot of moisture on the bottom sheet. At its center lay something very familiar to her. It was spherical, mostly blue. Like a marble or . . . very like the thing her mother had told her to swallow.
“I’ve laid an egg,” she said to herself, fighting her sudden urge to giggle uncontrollably. Or scream, also uncontrollably.
The fisher was on her shoulder, as though he had materialized out of nothing. “Think of it as a . . . jewel. Hide it where it will be completely safe,” he said. “And be sure, wherever you are, you take it with you. Don’t speak of it. Don’t lose it, whatever you do.”
Gritting her teeth, shutting her lips tight together to prevent herself from saying anything, asking anything, she considered the problem. Jacket wouldn’t do. Clothes wouldn’t do; those changed every day and bumps would be noticeable. She could put it in an undershift. She would make a tiny pocket in an undershift. Even boys wore undershifts, though theirs were shorter than the knee-length ones girls wore. All her undershifts had wide hems, to allow for letting down as she grew taller, or so the legend would have had it! She’d put it in the hem, in back, where it would be between her legs when she sat down and wouldn’t make a noticeable bump. And she’d have to make a similar pocket in every undershift, so she could put the . . . jewel in whichever one she was wearing. And she had to do it now, while Oldwife slept.
The mending basket was on the shelf.
