The Continent (The Continent #1)(84)

I take his hand, wishing that I could file my sadness away in some deep corner of my heart. It is the beginning of the end now, and there is no way to pretend otherwise.





CHAPTER 31





BEING HOME AGAIN MEANS GOING BACK TO WORK. One unusually warm autumn morning—hot enough that I’ve broken a sweat by the time I arrive at the farm—Shoshi is in a devil’s mood. I don’t know if it’s the heat that troubles him, or the fact that several of the animals have taken ill, or if he just woke up and realized he was himself, but he has spent the better part of the morning stomping all about the yard, complaining and shouting at everyone in his path. Naomi, the young woman who feeds the animals, is in tears before lunchtime, and Shoshi has actually kicked a man called Zoa—my counterpart; he helps with the manure and usually only works in my off weeks, but is trying to earn more oka for his family—at least three times.

Even as I watch, Shoshi storms out of the small building where he does his record-keeping and roars at one of the feral cats we often see around the farm. The poor animal, its fur sticking up on end, races away and climbs the large oak tree next to the barn. If he’s smart, he’ll stay up there.

Shoveling manure is distasteful on a normal day, but on a hot day, it seems to stink twice as much. Working together, Zoa and I clean the pen long before the animals are to be returned from the pasture. Together, we stand in the shade of the oak, drinking water from our jugs and making small talk. Shoshi, having just flung a pail through the paned glass of his office window, goes rigid when he sees us.

Zoa, probably quite tired of being kicked in the seat of his pants, makes off at once for the barn, where I’m sure he will find some industrious task or other to take on. Me…I am not so quick, and once Shoshi sets out toward me, I feel trapped. I’d bet an unzi he would chase me if I fled.

He bears down on me like an angry bear, and spits on the ground at my feet. “What have I told you about standing around?”

“I’m sorry, Shoshi. I was just having a bit of water—it’s so hot today.”

“No—really. I want you to answer me: what have I told you about standing around?”

I take a deep breath. “You’ve told me that the farm is not a place to be idle.”

“So—you know the rules then, and just choose to flaunt your indolence in front of me? In front of the other workers?”

I bristle. Shouting at me to move faster is one thing—though I still hate it. Calling me lazy is another. “I am not indolent, Shoshi Kaken. I work very hard, every day I am here. I work late when there is more to be done. I never shirk, or fail to come. I am one of the hardest workers in your employ.”

His expression is one of stunned rage, his mouth hanging open as though he simply cannot believe what I have just said. “The hardest worker…” he repeats, and nods his head. “Yes. You work very hard. Every day, you try to make it known that you’re too good for this life, so much better than—”

“Is that why you hate me so much? You think I look down on you? On the Aven’ei?”

“Everyone thinks it! You go about the village like a queen on a litter—”

“I walk, Shoshi!”

“—with your hair smelling of flowers, your fine jewel draped around your neck—”

“I smell like manure two weeks out of every month—and I have never complained about it, to you or anyone else!”

“You’re an outworlder. An unwanted guest. You weren’t here a season before you took up with Noro like a takaharu.”

I don’t know what this word means, but I can guess it isn’t kind. “Watch your mouth,” I say tightly.

His nostrils flare. “The truth hurts, doesn’t it? Death trails your footsteps, Vaela Sun—where you go, people die.”

“Stop it!”

“Noro will be dead soon enough—he can’t evade the Topi forever. Then what will you do? Dupe another fool into warming your bed, into keeping you safe?”

“That’s not how—”

“Every last one of us will be dead—by your hand.”

“And all will be mourned except you!” I say, hating the cruelty of my words even as I speak them.

He laughs. “None will be left to mourn! The Aven’ei will be no more.”

“You’re a monster,” I say, my voice shaking. “It’s no surprise that you’re alone, that everyone despises you—all you want is for others to share your misery.”

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” he says, and lurches toward me, his hand raised.

I drop to the ground and guard my face with both arms. “Shoshi, no!” I peer up at him, my hands trembling, my elbows still high in the air. “Don’t! Noro will kill you.”

The muscles in his face twitch, the vein at his temple pulses madly. But he lowers his hand. Through clenched teeth, he says, “Get off my farm, and don’t come back. You can clean the privies for all I care. Don’t ever set foot on my land again. You understand?”

“Shoshi, please—can’t we settle this once and for all? You wouldn’t think such terrible things about me if you just—”

“GET OFF MY FARM,” he bellows, “before I have a mind to beat you bloody and to hell with the consequences.”