Crossroads of Canopy (Titan's Forest #1)(62)

“When my niece had bubbles in her stomach, my sister would hold her like this. Facing down, along her forearm, with her cheek in her hand. And then swing her. Right. Like that.”

For a wonder, Issi’s squalling subsided into discontented grunts.

“She is heavy like this,” Ylly said with a flutter of a forced laugh.

“Should I fetch Bernreb?”

“No. Let him sleep. Will you … will you take a turn?”

“Of course.”

Long moments went by while the baby settled. Hurry, Unar thought. The sooner you all go to sleep, the sooner I can join Frog in the hearth room and learn more. She was so hungry to learn.

At last, her ears detected the sounds of tucking a child into her cradle.

Abruptly, before Unar could turn over and risk a peep through her lashes, there were other sounds. Unar couldn’t reconcile them, at first, with what she knew: Ylly hated Oos, and was old enough to be her mother, besides. Kissing sounds were kissing sounds, though. They hadn’t been a feature of the Garden, but Unar remembered them from the streets.

She didn’t need to roll over to see what was happening. There was nobody else in the storeroom but Unar and the baby, and the women were not kissing the baby. Not like that.

Get on with it! she raged inwardly.

No sooner had she had the thought than two bodies thudded onto Oos’s pallet beside her. Hands scrabbled to pull the too-small blanket over both of them. Elbows and knees invaded Unar’s space. They had to be wriggling out of their clothes.

For her own amusement, Unar would have liked Bernreb to appear just then. He still sometimes checked on the baby. He didn’t appear this time, though. And Ylly and Oos didn’t go to sleep. After what seemed like hours, the soft, sucking sounds of fingers in fluid-filled places were accompanied by Oos’s strangled gasp, and Unar dared to hope that they would fall asleep where they were, collapsed on one another, and she could make her escape.

“The last power of the Garden has finally left us,” Ylly whispered with joy.

Oos’s new lover obviously didn’t know her as well as Unar did. There was nothing Ylly could have said more calculated to make Oos cry. Unar was sorely tempted to leap up and advise Ylly to put Oos facedown along her forearm and rock her until she settled.

Instead, she held herself completely still. Ylly held Oos. The night surely held only a few more hours.

Unar counted silently to a hundred after she thought the other two women were asleep. They didn’t stir when she rolled away from them. She crawled through the workshop and, kneeling, peeled back the corner of the embroidered hanging.

No movement in the hearth room. Hasbabsah snored in her chair. Frog was curled in her corner. Unar crawled over to her, hating Oos and Ylly for discovering they didn’t actually despise one another. They’d spent so long cuddling that Frog had fallen asleep, but she would surely want Unar to wake her.

Frog’s eyes opened before Unar could touch her. Were they Wife-of-Uranun’s eyes? Unar didn’t know. She couldn’t remember. Maybe she didn’t want to remember. The Garden was the only place worth remembering.

“The fishing room,” Frog mouthed. Unar nodded. Once they stood by the roaring wall of water that would disguise any sounds they made, Frog rubbed her eyes and asked, “What did Esse show you, then?”

“A trap he made to catch that demon.”

“Only magic-wielders can catch a dayhunter. ’E wasted his time.”

“If you say so. Little sister, will you teach me how to use my own magic now, or must I continue to simply provide my power for your use?”

Frog put her fists on her hips.

“It would serve you right if I never teach you. You still think you walk on high paths above me. Above everyone, with how black you are. But soon you will lose the sun’s kiss.”

“I never said—”

“Of course not. You do not wanna stay here in Understorey, though, do you? The first thing you wanted to know was how to get through the barrier. You begged me to take you home. But this is my home, do you see? This is anyone’s home who would fight for justice.”

Unar only gazed at Frog. Justice? Why should she care about that?

“I’m not sworn to the goddess Ilan, Protector of Kings,” she said carefully, “but to Audblayin, Waker of Senses.”

“Yes,” Frog answered impatiently, “obviously. If you were sworn to Ilan, I could use you to debilitate my enemies with remorse. Fill them with self-loathin’ until they slit their own throats. We would not hafta fight anyone, then.”

“Fighting? What are you—”

“If you served Airak, I could use you to strike my enemies down with lightnin’. If you served Atwith, I could make them fall dead by the score, like autumn leaves. Instead, you serve Audblayin. Am I to bring down the kings of Canopy by impregnatin’ their wives? Your so-called gift is all but useless to us.”

“Us?” Unar waved her hands around in the air. “Who is us? Your adopted family, Frog?”

“I might as well show you. You can always heal the injured. Useful, I suppose, since I have been wounded in battle. Sit down on this crate.” Frog nudged one of two crates with her knee. “And don’t interrupt me. You look at me and see a child, but you are the child.”





THIRTY-SEVEN