The Stars Are Legion(61)

She munches at a fist-sized mushroom. Every time I think we’ll run out of food, I catch her foraging for more. I wouldn’t have thought there was so much of it here, but that’s because I can’t tell the difference between food and refuse.

“We all give birth to different stuff,” Casamir says. “Sometimes, what one person wants isn’t what another person wants, but you can’t decide what you give birth to. The Godhead decides, but like with anything, you can change your fate. You can swap out with a family member, if you have a good surgeon.”

I think of the long cut on my stomach. “Can you take it out altogether?”

“That’s not advisable,” Casamir says. “Don’t you know anything? You two really are very mad.”

“We don’t do anything like that,” Arankadash says. “That’s an affront to the sea that birthed us.”

“Whatever,” Casamir says. “It’s different for us.”

“Aren’t you afraid to anger the sea?” Arankadash says.

“I don’t even know what that is,” Casamir says. “No.” She pops the rest of the mushroom into her mouth. “You really should try one of these. I have others.”

“Won’t you get an infection or something?” I ask.

“From mushrooms?”

“Cutting out body parts,” I say.

“Why?” Casamir says. “We’re all made of the same stuff, us and the world. Stuff doesn’t rot here, really; it’s just recycled. The world eats it. Eats us, too. We’re all one thing. Haven’t you listened to me at all? Those women we have in the engineering room, they don’t get infections when we experiment on them. Your leg, too, have you noticed? We took a fist of flesh out and you’re walking as well as ever. You just need to treat it with the right stuff. Your body heals the rest. Sews itself back up, almost. Most of us, anyway.”

“What does most of us mean?”

Casamir glances at Das Muni. “Not mutants,” she says.

“Because they aren’t from this world?” I say.

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I mean, I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but—”

“Your explanation is just that they’re mutants?”

“Yes. Born wrong. So, they don’t heal right. They don’t grow right.”

“What right is seems to be a matter of opinion.”

“I feel my opinion matters highly.”

“You’re all so full of noise,” Arankadash says. “Like nattering hipjacks.”

“I’m not going to ask,” I say.

“You don’t want to know,” Casamir says.

“I sure hear that a lot.”

“Sometimes it’s easier to live out here if you don’t know,” Casamir says.

“So I’ve been told,” I say.

Das Muni is lying with her back to us, but she is pushed up against me for warmth, and in her hands is the scrap of parchment. I can see no great advantage to not knowing the things this world is keeping from me, except, perhaps, a great sense of despair. Das Muni has that despair, and Casamir and Arankadash too, in their own ways. They believe whatever myths and truths they are told. But I have no faith in any of it. Is this what Jayd wants me to be, a faithless woman who can carry on?

I’d say it seems to be working, but that parchment tells me that I’ve been this way before, and if it didn’t work then, why should I think it is working now? And what was I working toward? Surely, I cannot have been down here for the same reasons last time. How many times can the Bhavajas take over a world?

When I wake, it’s Casamir’s grinning face I see. How she remains so peppy, I have no idea. Maybe I’d be happier too, if I knew stories about women wearing wombs on their heads.

We pack up and drink bitter dregs of coppery water from the bulbs Casamir filled at the last puddle.

I set down the one I’m sharing with Casamir and turn to pick up my walking stick.

Casamir is babbling at Arankadash, back turned, and out of the corner of my eye I see Das Muni lean over the water bulb. She drops something in it. I stare hard at her. She sees me watching and jerks her hand away.

“What is that?” I hiss. I snatch her hand and kick over the bulb. The water dribbles out.

I pull Das Muni away from the others.

“What’s wrong?” Casamir says.

“Nothing,” I say, loud. “Das Muni kicked over the water. I don’t think she’s well.”

I take Das Muni by the shoulders and give her a little shake. I lower my voice. “What were you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me. I saw you put something in there. Don’t lie to me or I’ll leave you here to get eaten by whatever thing they’ve got out here.”

“These people are dangerous,” Das Muni says.

I shake her again. “Tell me.”

“I tried . . . it is . . .”

“Were you trying to poison me?”

“Not you! You already drank!”

“Casamir, then?”

She looks down.

“Shit and fire, Das Muni, this is not a game,” I say.

“It wouldn’t poison her,” Das Muni says. “She would just feel very sick. Things here don’t kill you.”