Dragonfly Song (13 page)

It's the hottest morning of summer when Milli-Cat leads her five kittens proudly out from under the sanctuary rock. Her tail waves like a flag and the kittens march in a trail behind it. The Lady has barely finished singing the sun up when the crowd sees the parade of cats.

The Lady hears the gasps and waits for the chorus of, ‘Thank you, Mother!'

‘Cats!' she hears.

‘Little ones!'

‘The Lady's pet's had babies!'

Fila forgets the ritual and runs to scoop up the black-and-white kitten. ‘So sweet!'

The kitten squawks in surprise, but Fila is gentle; after a moment he starts to purr. Milli-Cat meows sharply and marches on to the kitchen, the other kittens following. Fila puts the black-and-white one down and picks up the black one with a white snip on his chest. ‘Are you the cutest?' she asks, and then changes her mind and cuddles the pure white one.

It doesn't hurt as much as Aissa had thought – not until Fila picks up the orange kitten.

Ever since his mother dropped him onto Aissa's neck, Gold-Cat has claimed her for his own. He yowls when she comes back to the cave, twining around her ankles till she squats to hold him. He sleeps tucked between her chin and shoulder – Aissa doesn't know how she'll sleep again without that soft warmth.

‘Ow!' Fila squeaks. The orange kitten scampers away with an indignant meow.

Milli-Cat glances at him, and goes on eating the fish Squint-Eye's offered her. Fila picks up the other black kitten. Gold-Cat hisses every time she comes near.

That evening, Milli-Cat leads her babies back to the cave for the night, and the orange kitten finds his place under Aissa's chin.

But the kittens don't know that this should only be for night-time. They haven't heard of outcasts and they don't know that No-Name doesn't exist. They don't know how hard it is to be invisible with a parade of tail-waving cats behind you.

It's confusing for the servants, too. They can't throw rocks at No-Name anymore, in case they hit
one of the Lady's cats. They'd have to chase her out in the fields – only the golden kitten tries to follow her through the gate, and she always makes sure he stays inside. Half-Two even sees her pick up the little cat and put him back when he slips out after her.

The twin forgets the figs she's been sent to pick and races back to Squint-Eye. ‘No-Name touched the Lady's cat!'

Squint-Eye's stick whacks her across the legs. ‘Stupid girl! Are you going to tell the Lady that the beast prefers No-Name to her own daughter?'

Half-Two would like to, but another whack tells her that's the wrong answer.

12

THE GOATS AND THE WOLF

The goatherd girl isn't much older than Aissa, but she's a lot bigger. In fact Aissa isn't any taller than the nine-year-old brother. Maybe that's why the girl thinks she needs looking after. She looks anxious when Aissa doesn't speak.

‘Sit down, child. I am Lanni, daughter of Panna the goatherd. Please, let us thank you.'

Kindness is such a shock that Aissa's knees give way. She drops to the ground.

The goatherd blows two loud, sharp notes on her bone flute.

‘Sammo, go see if they're coming,' she orders her brother. ‘Stay up on that rock so I can see you.'

‘The wolf set all the goats running,' she explains. ‘My other brother and the dog are rounding up the strays – we need to get these two back to the flock.'

She takes a deep breath and shouts. ‘Parsley! Parsley!' She turns and mutters to Aissa, ‘Don't blame me, Sammo named her.'

She picks up her flute again, but this time the notes are long and sweet, curling gently into the sky. Aissa feels a coil of fear begin to unwind, and the goat and her kid slow their frantic running. Lanni plays on until they turn back towards her.

‘I can see Onyx!' Sammo calls. ‘He's got three does and kids.'

‘Three! What's he doing coming back without the others?'

‘Wait, I can see more!'

‘Go down to the flock,' Lanni orders. ‘Keep your sling ready. That wolf will have had a mate.'

She shakes the spit out of her flute and blows again. The doe and kid are almost calm as they approach. Lanni waits till the mother goat has come right up to her before she moves. Gently, she scratches between its ears.

‘Will you come with us?' she asks Aissa. ‘When you're ready, we can take you back to your people.'

She'll turn me over to Squint-Eye,
Aissa thinks in panic,
and Squint-Eye will beat me because ... well, just because she'll always beat me if she can.

Lanni thinks Aissa's silence is from shock.

As well as the bone flute, the goatherd has a wooden bowl on another leather thong around her waist. She grips it between her knees as she squats beside the goat, crooning softly, and gently squeezes the udder until the bowl is full.

‘Drink,' she says, holding it to Aissa's lips.

Aissa drinks. It is the taste of childhood, of safety, love and warmth. She drinks till her belly is full and her eyes are overflowing.

Lanni plays her flute again, almost the same music that called Parsley and her kid, but deeper, wider. The other goats start to join them. Sammo dances excitedly, shouting the story to his older brother. The dog trots behind the goats, keeping them in a tight group; the boy looks as if he's used up all his energy in the chase.

‘When we got there, she'd killed the wolf!' Sammo explains.

‘But that's No-Name,' Onyx sneers. ‘The cursed servant!'

‘She's the girl who saved Parsley's kid,' his sister snaps. ‘And you'll thank her for it.'

‘Thank you,' the boy mutters.

‘The wolf's huge,' Sammo adds.

Suddenly Onyx is interested. ‘I'll take its pelt!'

The skin!
Aissa thinks.
A wolf fur would be so warm in winter – why didn't I take it right away?

Though she could never be sorry for drinking that milk.

‘It's not yours,' Lanni tells her brother. ‘It's the girl's.'

‘Servants can't wear wolf skin. That's for hunters, and . . .'

‘. . . and herders that earn them,' his sister finishes. ‘So remind me about when you killed a wolf – I seem to have forgotten.'

‘Onyx has never killed a wolf!' squeals Sammo.

‘Exactly. The girl's earned the pelt, and that's the end of the story. Do you have a knife, girl?'

Aissa shows her the little flint.

‘It's not very big,' Lanni says doubtfully. ‘Have you ever skinned anything with it?'

Aissa shakes her head.

‘Onyx and Sammo, keep the goats away from those woods. I'm going to give the girl a hand.'

With her own sharp stone knife, Lanni cuts the pelt at the neck and starts down the shoulder. There's a lot of blood, and the stink makes Aissa want to vomit.

‘You haven't done this before, have you?' says Lanni. ‘It'll be worth it when you've got a fur cloak in the winter.'

She hands Aissa the knife and shows her how to peel the skin free of the body.

‘I wish you could talk! I guess you wish it too. Anyway, you can hear, so listen: wash the blood off as soon you can, then soak it in sea water – and you need to scrape every bit of fat and meat off the skin, or it'll rot and smell. Your little knife will be fine for that. It'll take you a few days.'

They work together in silence.

‘Are you safe where you are?' Lanni asks suddenly.

Aissa can't answer. She doesn't know.

‘If it's true you belong to the Hall, we can't take you in. Except if you're a servant I don't know why you're up here on your own without so much as a gathering basket, or how you learned to use a sling.'

You taught me!
Aissa wishes she could say.

‘Our home is a day's walk from here, but our summer cave is nearby.' She points higher up the mountain. ‘If you ever need us, remember that we are in your debt.'