Cold Fire (Spiritwalker #2)

Cold Fire (Spiritwalker #2) Page 95

I tossed and turned. As in a restless dream, an old man with feathers and shells in his hair entered the room. His calloused hand traced my navel; his lips pressed against my forehead with a kiss that snaked through my body to kindle my blood.

His unfamiliar voice spoke. “She is clean.”

20

Later, it was quiet, a hint of breeze pooling around my face.

“Aunty, it was the worst moment of my life, when she slipped away from me down the well. I thought I’d lost her forever. And then, when I took off her jacket and saw that bite…”

“Don’ borrow trouble, lad. The behique say she is clean. Anyway, better if yee go on to yee work, else yee shall be a nuisance all day. See how she stir, because she hear yee voice? She need to sleep, for she is sorely tired and worn. Go on. I shall watch.”

I woke to daylight and a stifling heat like sludge in my lungs. Rain broke overhead, a downpour so torrential I could hear nothing but its drumming on the tile roof. The air cooled. My headache eased. The rain stopped.

I lay on a cot. I wore only drawers and a thin muslin blouse. There had been a cover over me but I had kicked it off. My cane was tucked along one side. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and cautiously rose, but my head seemed fit on properly. I found a pagne hanging over the screen that divided the little room into two, with a cot on either side and baskets hanging from the center beam. A sheathed sword lay tucked into the rafters, safe from stealing because no one could touch Vai’s cold steel except him. A basket on the floor contained my folded clothing. I bound on the bodice and wrapped the pagne. The blouse’s sleeves were long enough to cover the healing bite.

My mouth tasted of unpleasant memories. Drake had deserted me to make my own way to the Speckled Iguana, where I would have fallen sick all alone. Not like here, where people—Vai—cared what happened to me. Blessed Tanit! The thought of possibly carrying Drake’s child and what would become of me if I did made me determined to forge my own path. I was not going to crawl to Drake to beg for help.

“Ja, maku!” One of the girls peeked in at the open door. She looked a bit older than Bee’s sister Hanan, perhaps fifteen, and with her springy black hair and brown complexion resembled Aunty. “Yee feeling better? Eh! Never mind the question. Yee look not so like fouled cassava paste. I thought sure yee would faint right away last night.”

“I am better, thank you. Never mind what question?”

“Vai say never to ask yee a question. ’Tis almost supper, if yee’s hungry.”

I had to pee, and I realized I was, indeed, hungry as well as furiously thirsty. “My thanks for the folded clothes. What’s your name? If you told me, I forgot.”

“Lucretia.”

“No. Really?”

She grinned. “Me dad’s a Roman sailor. He turn up once a year, all faithful like. ’Tis why I have eight little sisters.”

I laughed and followed her downstairs into the courtyard where men and boys were setting out benches and hauling in barrels, and women and girls were cooking. Aunty Djeneba ran not only a lodging house but an eating and drinking establishment as well, the sort of place people, mostly men, came to relax after a day’s hot work. The low-hanging sun peeking out from a tumult of clouds gave the light a muted glow.

In the outdoor kitchen, Aunty Djeneba greeted me by looking me over. “Yee stay quiet this evening. Tomorrow we shall talk. Here come Vai.”

He had wood shavings caught in his hair, and a residue of sawdust streaked his bare arms. He gave me a long, searching look, which I endured by drawing out my locket and playing with it. “You look like you feel better.”

“I slept all day.” I wanted to say more, but my tongue had turned to stone.

“You know, Aunty,” he said, “I need to go out to the Moonday gathering, if I can.”

“I shall see she come to no harm.”

“What gathering?” I asked.

“I’ll take you another time. If you’ll excuse me. I’ll just stow this in my room.” He had a canvas apron slung over his back with tools tucked into sewn compartments. He hurried upstairs, and when he came down, his friends, including Kofi, had appeared at the gate. They stared curiously at me but did not approach, and they left with Vai.

“I reckon yee shall be most comfortable by Aunty Brigid,” said Aunty.

I crept to the sling chair in the shelter behind the kitchen, next to the toothless old woman who smiled and spoke no word. There were always at least two children hovering, anxious to fetch me juice. I was not hungry, but I could have drunk the sea and then some.