Fish Tails (39 page)

“Just a moment!” Xulai cried, abruptly reverting to her imperious manner. “Why didn't she come back to protect the two girls your mother had earlier?”

Needly felt her body stiffen. The voice was like . . . Pa's voice. Sometimes.

Abasio rose, stretched, came to put his hand gently upon Needly's shoulder. “Xulai, we're not conducting an
inquisition
here, are we? Are you accusing Needly of something?”

Xulai's mouth dropped open; she bit her lip. “Oh my, I did, didn't I? I'm so sorry, Needly. I didn't mean to sound inquisitorial! When I get interested in something, Precious Wind says sometimes I go after it like a terrier after a rat!”

“Terrier? Precious Wind?”

Abasio answered. “Precious Wind is Xulai's oldest and best woman friend. One who has a soothing effect upon her. A terrier is an extremely energetic, rat-­killing dog that can drive ­people crazy digging at things.” He gave Xulai a studied and admonitory look. “
If it cannot find a real rat, it will mindlessly and protractedly seek to uncover a hypothetical one
. However, neither terrier nor friend is pertinent to this discussion. And it is merely a
discussion,
isn't it, Xulai? Hmm?
Of course it is,
and Xulai wonders—­merely
wonders
—­why your grandmother did not protect Trudis's first two daughters.”

“She said there was no point in saving any child parented by Trudis and Gralf,” she answered flatly. Seeing Xulai's body go into a spontaneous shiver, as though she were shaking off fleas, Needly laughed, an uncomfortably strained sound. “I know, Xulai. I know it sounds dreadful to you.
But given that heritage, no Hench-­born child could be changed! Whatever Grandma was doing, she had to do it in the valley, and it was because Gralf was
not
my father that Grandma came back when I was born.”

Xulai, very pale, stared at the toes of her shoes. “I understand genetics, to a degree. I don't understand what contribution may be made by geography, but presumably your grandmother did understand it. In any case, it's not fair for me to harangue you about it.”

“I think you should well understand what it meant, being a Silverhair,” said Needly very softly. “For Willum says you yourself were born for a purpose. Were you not?”

After a long, silent moment, Xulai nodded, sharing a glance with Abasio. Needly was surprised to see a note of despondency in it. “I was, yes. When I finally learned of it, I felt . . . I don't know exactly what I felt. Anger, certainly. It seemed intrusive. Later, I accepted it, though reluctantly. Recently, mostly I've been able to be glad of it.”

Needly nodded agreement. “Grandma often said being born for a purpose makes life very difficult, as one constantly has to measure oneself against an unknown scale: any success may be a failure, every failure a success! Unless one knows what the purpose is—­and she did not—­one never knows whether one measures up! You know the purpose of your life! You can feel gratification! Even if you did not, it may be superior to being born, as many are, for no purpose whatsoever except that some man's dog was barking. Even if his children are starving or parasite-­ridden through drinking foul water, their existence, however brief, testifies to the supremacy of his dog.” She sighed, wiping at her eyes. “Grandma came to Hench Valley when there was something useful for her to do there—­useful in her terms, Xulai! Not necessarily yours or mine. Living there was a trial for anyone, especially I suppose for anyone who had ever known a more . . . pleasant kind of life. So, whenever there came a time when Grandma could do nothing useful, she went away. She came back when I was born, believing it would be useful for me to live.”

“Knew so, I should think,” said Xulai, regarding Needly with frank amazement. It would be easier to believe this conversation if she shut her eyes. If Xulai did not look at Needly, if she heard only that calm, factual, lucid voice, she would believe her fully adult. It was the sight of that childlike face, that delicate body, those thin little arms—­muscular though they were—­that made the conversation seem unreal. “And why were you left behind when the other little ones like you were taken?”

“Grandma told me that when children are planned for a purpose—­that is, by some sensible human agency—­then parents or caretakers are usually appointed for each child well before the child is born. Sometimes, perhaps often, these are ­people other than the birth mother and father. The other children like me were evidently intended to be reared by parents outside Hench Valley, for once the children were weaned, they were taken away to be reared somewhere else. Grandma had evidently been chosen to be my parent. Since she was well accepted as a healer, she could raise me there. I don't know why she couldn't take me elsewhere. It would have been so much easier, almost anywhere else, but she either chose to do it there or it was chosen for her.”

She paused, as though judging what she would say next, and took a deep breath. “I've wondered why, so often. Since meeting you, I've thought perhaps I had to be raised there so I would know and accept—­as you are finding it so hard to do—­what some cultures can be like and what they can do to ­people. At some point in my life, that knowledge may be necessary. I am assuming that when someone is planned—­as both you and I were planned, Xulai—­the planners have the ability to see far, far ahead.”

Xulai flushed. The point was very well made. It wasn't the geography that was important. The importance was the familiarity with the hideous culture that went with it, with a respected—­or at least much needed—­grandmother as the barrier between the culture and the child.

Needly went on: “I was taught to read. We had books, kept secret, but we had them. Grandma was a good teacher. She was sure she could keep me safe until . . . until it was time for me to go somewhere else. I don't think she planned on Gralf killing her, but from the time I was about six she told me repeatedly that if she was killed, it was time for me to go.”

“And she was sure you'd survive,” Abasio said.

Needly actually grinned. “I have a feeling there were ­people . . . creatures watching out for me when I left Tuckwhip. If I'd gotten into really bad trouble, I think they'd have rescued me.”

“Bears sound bad enough trouble to me!” said Willum.

“Would you believe me, Willum, if I told you the bear followed me to the tree I climbed. It sat down and ate some berries. Off in the trees, something played some very strange music while the bear danced very nicely, showing me that he wasn't simply a wild bear. Then the bear told me I should get to the pass, because someone there would be waiting for me. And you were.”

“You met my bear!” cried Abasio. “Or one like him. My bear liked music, I saw him dance, and you say he talked?”

“Either he talked or I had a very vivid dream,” murmured Needly in a voice that was amused but frighteningly weary. “At the time I didn't doubt for a moment that he talked. Later . . . well, come morning, I wasn't sure.”

“It's just one more case of planned genetics,” said Abasio, making a face as he turned toward Xulai. “Are the geneticists in Tingawa still using ­people all over the world for breeding stock, Xulai?”

“If they are, I know nothing about it,” she replied. “Just because I'm part of what they regard as one of their more successful efforts doesn't mean they tell me what else they're doing. Besides, isn't it equally likely the culprits are some of your former acquaintances from the Edges?” She turned back to Needly. “Let me get all my curiosity attended to in one fell swoop and quit bothering you about it. You've been very patient with me, Needly! I need to know about your being sold, and that whole Digger business? What was all that?” She took the kettle from the fire, poured some of its contents into the dishpan, and began to clean their breakfast bowls.

Willum sheathed his knife, found a dish towel, and took each bowl and cup from Xulai as it was cleaned. Needly settled herself next to Abasio in the place Willum had warmed for her.

“That has to do with the Hench Valley myth. Would you know it?” Seeing their blank faces, she went on. “Grandma said some ­people believe what their senses tell them, and some ­people prefer to believe myths. Stories, you know?”

Willum cried, “Xulai and Abasio were talking to me about that! Not very long ago either. They said the stories are different, everywhere you go . . .”

Needly nodded. “Grandma told me a lot of different ones, from other ages and other places on earth. The Hench Valley myth is a purely local one, but it's been told for quite a few generations. Grandma said it lacked ‘the conventional embroideries' that are common to most mythology, but then, Hench Valley wasn't much for decoration of anything at all.”

“Wot did she jus' say?” demanded Willum in a loud, sulky voice. He had begun by considering himself Needly's protector, and was becoming mightily annoyed by feeling he might be relegated to some other and inferior role.

Xulai replied, “She said that the Hench Valley story is very simpleminded.”

Needly went over to get Willum's bowl, taking his spoon hand between her own. “Willum, you told me some things your ma said, like,
‘Leave a cock his bluster or he'll forget how to crow.'
And that meant men had to brag some in order to feel right about themselves, right? Well, in our village the men say,
‘Many men make a strong village, strong villages make a strong valley.'
” She took the bowl and spoon to Xulai, dipped a cloth in the dishwater, and returned it to Willum for his face. He scowled at her and she tapped her foot at him until he used it. “You forgot your ears,” she said. “They're disgusting.”

Abasio commented, “There was probably some truth to there being strength in numbers.”

Willum had made a dab at his ears, a bare sufficiency. Needly took the cloth, pounced at one neglected ear, then the other before taking it back to soap it, scrub it out, and fold it.

“The Hench Valley myth started out as ‘many men make a strong valley.' Of course. Women weren't in the saying, so they weren't very important and nothing about them was very important. One way to keep men
many
was to keep women
few
. That's more or less how it started.”

“But it went on,” said Abasio, frowning.

“To keep women few, no one bothered to protect and rear girl babies, and except for bedding them when one felt like it, women were kept to themselves and trained to work hard and be silent. Training them to do that involved hitting them. The conventional embroidery to the myth became ‘For men to be strong, women must be chastised.' ”

Xulai's face was stony. “I have read of such places in the ancient histories.”

Needly went on: “One embroidery begets another, and eventually you end up with Hench Valley, where the fewer women the better, which means you have no extra ones, and if some man needs one, there's weak stupid towns where he can steal one. This culture was so pervasive that when a woman bore a girl child, oftentimes, knowing what kind of life she would lead, the mother chose to smother her in the basket.”

Her voice broke and she looked down. The tears dropped into the dust at her feet instead of running down her cheeks. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “You can imagine the result? Boy babies survived, girl babies didn't, the female population dwindled to almost nothing. This didn't disconcert the men, however, because they continue to rely on stealing women when necessary.”

“What's ‘dis-­con-­sert'?” demanded Willum.

“It means it didn't upset them,” said Xulai.

“She coulda said that,” mumbled Willum angrily.

“Or you coulda
listened
and learned a new word, Willum,” said Abasio threateningly. “Which is what a smart boy would do.” He turned back to Needly. “I think you're telling us, Needly, that the Hench Valley myth depends upon women who are also mythical.”

Needly's lips twisted into a wry smile. “Grandma told me
as a fact
that there are no women anywhere within reach of Tuckwhip available to be stolen. Ages ago, she said, they successfully raided a few wagon trains, until the wagon trains added armed men. Once they set out to raid the salt-­mine place. Most of them were killed or badly wounded during that attack, and the few who came back brought no women.” She stared off into the distance, her brow furrowed in thought. “Grandma told me it's something logical ­people struggle with constantly when they try to use facts to educate other ­people. She told me every human is like a horseback rider: he either rides a fact-­horse or he rides a myth-­horse. AND, to ­people who ride
myth-­horses
,
fact-­horses
don't exist. Fact-­horses are just stories
made up by the other side
.”

“Whut other side?”
Willum demanded
.

Needly shook her head. “Grandma said back in history ­people in power made lists of books other ­people were not allowed to read, because
they had information in them written by the other side.
Did you know that?”

Xulai nodded, pinch-­lipped. “I was taught about it, yes. Hierarchies—­religious or political—­held on to power by forcing ­people to believe as they did. I remember reading that in some very stupid areas—­there was one, Precious Wind tells me, just south of Artemisia in the Golf Coast—­they refused to teach science in the schools because it contradicted ancient holy books.” She wiped her forehead, which felt very hot and angry. “It is easier to control ­people if you control what they think or learn. Religions have always held power by controlling ­people.”

Abasio put his arms around her and squeezed quite tightly. “Your cogs and wheels are coming loose,” he murmured.