~ TEMA ~
At the edge of the plaza, beyond the heat of the bonfire, the night had a chill. Tema wrapped her arms tightly around herself and cursed her choice of attire. The dress was a favourite of hers, something she’d clung to for years. A light blue number, taffeta, with a ruffled bodice. She remembered the day she’d bought it, just a little after her twentieth birthday. Remembered the way her heart thumped. The girl who rang her up was so sweet, gushing about how cute Tema would look in it, but Tema could only stare at her feet and blush like a tomato.
She’d run all the way home so she could try the dress on. It didn’t fit right then, but she hadn’t cared. She’d fallen asleep in it. For at least half a year, she’d put it on every evening when she got home from work. “I’ll wear this to a party one day,” she’d promised herself.
Now, with the cold air biting at her bare legs, she regretted that promise.
The party was enjoyable, as they go. Alcohol had been made available in great plenty, pints for a copperhead, and Viola and Cherry had made the most of it. Their conversation had devolved into a series of giggles which were a language to themselves. But the language was impenetrable to the sober mind, and Tema had barely drunk a drop. At Viola’s insistence, she’d had one drink. That was as far as she was prepared to go. She’d spent years preparing for this moment, making sure she was ready. She could do her make-up as well as any girl on Essegena. Through hundreds of hours of practice she could speak with an effortless soprano. And she could do all this perfectly fine while she was sober.
She hadn’t tried while drunk. When she was younger, she knew, her voice went deeper when she was drunk. What if that happened again? What if her carefully-cultivated pretty image was shattered by a moment of baritone, and she didn’t even remember it come the morning? No, nobody here knew who she was. It was better not to take the risk.
So she stood with her paralytic friends, and nursed a cup of water. Over by the fire, a soldier kept meeting her gaze. He’d come to her once already, begged her to dance with him. She’d had to fight an urge to laugh in his face. She’d turned him down, flattered nonetheless, and thought that might be the end of it. But he just kept on looking. Why couldn’t he get the message? She looked at her friends. Cherry was laughing so hard her face matched the scarlet of her dress. Blessed with large teeth, she could never fully close her mouth. She’d leaned into it—always laughing or beaming with mouth wide open. Viola, slight and small, had always a golden glow behind her face, and eyes that shone like sunlight. Her hair was beautiful, the stuff of envy. She had somehow come into possession of a bottle of some spirit or other, which she was in the process of downing. Overflow spilled down her neck.
“That’s enough.” Tema reached over and prised the bottle from Viola’s hands. She let it fall to the ground, and looked around the plaza. The soldier kept looking her way. He was going to come over to her again sooner or later, she could feel it, and neither of her friends was in a fit state to back her up this time. Suddenly, an idea came to her mind. “Come on,” she said, pulling Viola along with her, and walked directly towards the soldier. The man looked as though his greatest prayers had come true.
Viola muttered something inaudible, and descended into laughter again. Tema just squeezed her arm a bit tighter and walked on. As she grew closer, the soldier’s grin grew wider, and she began to doubt herself. What was she doing? This was going to go completely wrong. She had visions of him getting what he wanted, plying her with drinks until she thought it was a good idea to take off her dress and show him what she had underneath. And then he’d beat her silly and she’d have to crawl to the hospital.
“Changed your mind?” said the soldier, loud enough that a couple of people next to him looked his way. Tema shook her head.
“She’s had too much,” she said, indicating Viola. “A couple of you soldiers should help her to the hospital, make sure she gets there safely.” The soldier looked put out, so she added: “It would be a very noble gesture. Girls love noble gestures.”
That seemed to settle it. The soldier nudged his mate, who had been sat by the fireside, paying Tema no mind, and whispered something in his ear. The way they staggered about, Tema was half-expecting one of them to lose their balance and fall into the bonfire. That didn’t happen, but the two soldiers did take Viola’s arms. They walked with her towards the Eia, and Tema took a deep breath as they left.
She thought about rejoining Cherry, but there was no point. Cherry had found a man from somewhere and was locking faces with him. So Tema sat down on the wooden stool vacated by the soldier’s mate. The flames were close enough to have an effect. Her legs were warm for the first time since Governor Ballard had finished speaking.
Looking into the fire, her mind began to wander to thoughts of that soldier. She was a woman, young and single. She was supposed to want to find a man. She’d had no hesitation in turning him down. Part of that was fear, she knew. Drunk, horny soldiers were unlikely to take her as she was. Why take a chance? But surely she should have been disappointed to have to reject him? She was flattered he’d sought her out—her and not any of the other women here—but repulsed by the thought of what he wanted to do with her.
Would Tasha have been repulsed by it? She’d always measured herself up to her sister. The woman she’d been in her dreams was made in the image of Tasha, and that was the image Tema had worked to reflect. Tasha always liked to talk about how she really wanted a little sister. That was when it was convenient. As soon as Tema’s life had become an awkward reality, Tasha’s true colours had come through. The sisters had not spoken since.
It was better that way.
Things would have been different were Aunt Danyer still living. Aunt Danyer knew everything, understood everything, could explain everything. By the love they both bore for their aunt, Tema and Tasha would have been bound together until the old wounds healed over. Instead their paths had diverged, and never again the twain shall meet.
The fire crackled an elegy for those happier times. Tema sipped at her water and tried to pretend it was something better-tasting.
“Excuse me,” came a deep voice behind her. She stiffened. Surely the soldier couldn’t have got back already.
“I’m not interested,” she said, turning around. “I thought I made that quite clear.”
A familiar face smiled at her. “Relax,” said Oliver Wrack, the very last man she wanted to see here. He held his hand up in front of her face, wiggling the fingers to show off a gold ring. “You know I’m married!” A smile creased a scrappy moustache.
Her breathing was suddenly a lot heavier. She’d come to the far end of the known universe to be free of the past. For nearly a week she’d thought it had worked. People took her as she was now, not as she was a decade ago, and it was a refreshing change. But that had come to an abrupt end. It wasn’t even like it was someone she’d met once. No, it had to be her brother-in-law. And if Oliver was here, Tasha was sure to be somewhere.
She could feel tears starting to run down her face, smearing her make-up. A few words from Oliver and she’d be an outcast here as well. Why must they have come here? Why couldn’t they find their own colony?
Oliver smiled. “There’s no need to cry, Tema. I’m glad I’ve found you.”
“What do you want?”
“To talk to you. If you’ll let me. We didn’t exactly end on good terms last time, I know, and I’m sorry. But I’ve grown since then. Tash has too.”
“Tasha’s here?” She looked around frantically, in case her sister was hiding behind a tree or something.
Oliver chuckled. “She’s not at the party, no. She’s not the type for mindless drinking.”
That much was certainly true. Even before, Tash had judged Tema for enjoying a drink. Parties were a social game for her, nothing more, and there was nothing to be won at a frenzy like this.
“I haven’t told Tasha you’re here,” Oliver said. “But I know she’s got a lot to tell you.” He held out a hand. “So, how about it?”
For a second, she felt like telling him to get lost. That would feel good, for sure, but it wouldn’t really help her out. There wasn’t anything left for her to do at the party, and the soldier would probably be back to bother her eventually. So she forced a smile she wasn’t really feeling. “Okay,” she said, taking the offered hand. Oliver pulled her to her feet, and began to walk away from the fire.
“Hold up,” she said, trying to keep pace with him. “You’re walking too fast.” He stopped and turned to her.
“Those shoes can’t be helping you out,” he said. “They don’t look at all comfortable.” They were leather lined with velvet, the same shade of blue as her dress, with cute bows on the toes and heels four inches high. She could walk in them, just barely, but she couldn’t run.
“They go with my dress,” she said.
Oliver rolled his eyes. “I will never understand the way a woman’s mind works,” he said. “You and Tash are two peas.”
Tema grimaced. “I never liked peas that much.”
It didn’t take long for the party to be far behind them. The songs and smoke gave way to a narrow street lined with wooden buildings in various stages of construction. The way they were packed, a stray spark from the bonfire would be all it would take to burn the whole place down. It shouldn’t happen. There were dozens of safeguards that should have been put in place. All the same, Tema was quite happy to be sleeping aboard ship. It was safer aboard ship. The metal walls of her chambers would never catch fire.
“How did you know to look for me?” she asked.
“You have an uncommon name,” said Oliver. “I heard the Governor’s wife talking about a Doctor Caerlin, and you find me a Caerlin that’s not related to my Tash.” It had been eight years, and she still found herself wincing every time she heard her sister’s name. Oliver must have seen, because he stopped walking and put his hands on her shoulders. “She never hated you. You need to understand that.”
“She said I was unnatural. That I was ruining her wedding just by being there. Or did you miss that part?”
He shook his head. “I never said she wasn’t wrong to do that. But you know, she spent the whole honeymoon crying. Because she hated how she’d behaved. Can you imagine how upset a person would have to be to go to Icewind and not enjoy the sights?”
“I won’t feel sorry for her,” said Tema. “However upset she was, I was ten times worse. She was family, and all I had left.”
“She still is,” said Oliver.
The conversation wavered. “Will you excuse me for a second?” said Tema. “Lady problems.” She dashed behind a nearby tree—a squat, leafy thing with a solid trunk and a thick canopy that seemed designed to hide in for a second. She pushed her way beneath the leaves, and was surprised to find a spacious den there. If she looked through at exactly the right angle, she could just about see Oliver—in fairness, he was stood with his back to her. In this spot, he probably wouldn’t have been able to see anything even if he’d tried to peep.
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While she crouched beneath the tree, far from dignified, she thought back to the last time she’d seen Tash. Nervous as she was, she thought her sister of all people would understand. And she’d walked home embarrassed and drenched from the pond she’d been pushed into.
She wasn’t really sure she wanted to talk to Tash now.
But there were only so many people here. She could slip away from Oliver now, yes, but eventually she’d bump into Tasha. All the things she hadn’t said would come out eventually.
Oliver turned to face her as she approached. “All better?” he said, that stupid smile on his face. It almost looked friendly.
“I’m not going to get jumped, am I?”
He looked affronted. “What sort of man do you think I am? This is home.” He was pointing at a slightly fancier wooden building than the others. It was built at the foot of one of the valley’s slopes, in the shade of two taller trees like the one she’d sheltered under. And it was far from finished. The windows were just holes cut roughly into the wooden walls.
A low fence ran along the perimeter of the house’s land. There was enough space to make a decent garden, but at the moment it was occupied only by tree stumps and a few patches of whatever passed for grass on this planet. A man with a gun leaned against the fence. A soldier. He wore a black overcoat, with the emblem of a white horse embroidered on the breast. The Caerlin mark.
“Evening, Master Wrack,” the man said, as they approached. “You found the lady then.”
“I did indeed, Jon,” said Oliver. The man—Jon, as Oliver had called him—looked Tema up and down, and grunted something that sounded like an approval. His was a weathered face, gaunt cheekbones framing tired flesh. Once, his hair might have matched the dark brown of his eyes. Even by the dim light of night, Tema could see the grey. Tema watched him out of the corner of her eye as she walked past, but he didn’t seem interested. “Perks of being somebody important,” Oliver explained. “We get our own security.”
“Why does he have the horse on his uniform?”
“Don’t you recognise it? It’s your family’s mark. Tash wanted us to take it on. I take it that’s okay with you?”
Tema nodded. She wasn’t going to use it. Somebody else might as well.
The house still smelled brand new. Inside and outside alike were unpolished and unpainted wood, with little in the way of decoration. Some of the pencil measurements were still visible on the walls. “Excuse the emptiness,” said Oliver. “This is only a temporary house. We can pretty things up when we have a more permanent structure.”
The floor was a bare hardwood, the sort which amplified the sound of every footstep. They’d not gone four paces past the threshold when a pair of clacking heels started towards them. Attached to the heels was a pale maid in a dress of forest green. She emerged from one of the small side doors of the house’s hallway, across from the stairs. She was pretty, Tema noticed. Her hair was a similar shade of blonde to Tema’s, but it suited her ghost-white skin much better. And it was far longer, almost down to the small of her back. Tema’s barely touched her shoulders.
“I’ve just put the coffee on for the Lady,” the maid said, her voice a bird’s song from soft pink lips. “Should I make some more?”
“I didn’t realise hot drinks were your responsibility, Eva. Is Mam Argent not here? Or little Nickie?”
Eva shook her head. “The Lady let Nickie go to the big party. Mam Argent went to bed after she served the dinner.”
Oliver nodded. “I suppose it is quite late. In that case, make mine something stronger, Eva. There should be some absinthe in the liquor cabinet.” He looked at Tema, and Eva did too.
She tried to put on a gracious smile. “That would be great, thanks.” Eva curtsied and scuttled back through the door she’d come from. At least, Tema thought it was the same door. The house’s main hallway was huge, a corridor opening out into a soaring foyer that stretched four stories into the sky. Half a dozen different doors opened into this foyer, on the ground floor alone.
Oliver walked across to the nearest door. It was slightly ajar, and a faint light was coming through from the other side. He pushed it gently. “Honey,” he called.
“Oliver?” came the reply, the voice one Tema knew so very well. She cringed now to hear it. “Where have you been?”
“I’ve got a present for you.” He waved Tema over. She followed him through into the room. It was a sitting room, or at least it would be when it was finished and furnished. At the moment it was a bare room with a couple of carved chairs and a table. Tash was sat with her back to the door, reading in the light of a small lantern resting on the table. Brown tresses hung down. Tash had always been proud of her hair—proud of the fact that she didn’t have to do anything with it to be the envy of the village. Tema waited in the doorway while Oliver rushed to Tash and gave her a peck on the cheek.
“Eva’s making coffee,” Tash said, turning to pull Oliver into a hug. Her face had filled out since last time Tema had seen her. Back then, Tasha had been thin everywhere. She’d taken on a healthier weight now, fat resting on her cheeks to give them a bounce.
He nodded. “We’ve seen her.”
“We?” Tash looked confused for a second. Then she seemed to catch sight of Tema for the first time. She froze in place, staring directly at the door. “Oliver, who is this?”
For a second Tema thought about leaving. Her heart was thumping a million times a minute, and her throat was suddenly dry. It wasn’t far to go—a couple of steps and she’d be out of the door. Surprise alone would give her enough of a headstart to beat Oliver out. But she felt a firm hand on her shoulder. “Don’t run,” Oliver whispered in her ear. “It’ll only be harder next time.”
She swallowed hard. “Hiya Tash,” she said. “I’ve changed a bit.”
And there it was. The faintest flicker of recognition. Tash’s eyes widened, and her mouth bobbed open and closed a few times without any sound coming out. “You were serious, weren’t you? I thought you were just joking with me.”
“That’s not my humour, Tash.”
Oliver took a seat beside Tash, and spoke curtly to her: “don’t be so standoffish.”
“Well, what do you want me to say?” she snapped. “Dresses don’t make a woman.”
“Being a woman does, though.”
“And there’s only one woman here, two if you count Eva.”
Oliver leaned back, away from Tash, so no part of them was touching. “I think you’re being rude now,” he said. “I look at her, and I see a woman. Tema, am I right? Are you a woman?”
Tema nodded. “I am.”
“There we go,” Oliver scolded, a hard edge rising in his voice. “Looks like a duck, quacks like a duck. I thought it would be a nice thing for you to see your sister again, Tash. I thought I was doing a nice thing for my wife. But I don’t expect Tema’s going to stay here for much longer if you’re gonna keep insulting her very being. I wouldn’t blame her if she never thinks to come back.”
“Who do you think you are to lecture me?” Tash’s voice was raised. It always went whiny when she shouted, like an instrument out of tune. “You’re my husband.”
“Yes. I’m your husband. Which means I’ve shared your bed every single night for the past eight years. You’re always saying how much you want to have your family back. Well, there she is—the only family you’ve got, and you’re driving her away.” It made Tema a little bit uncomfortable, having Oliver’s quivering finger pointed her way while he made his point. But it worked a treat. Tash’s hardened face melted as tears pressed their way to the surface
“Can I start again?”
Tema wanted to tell her ‘no’, to leave and never come back. Tasha was as rude as she’d expected. But she wasn’t even close to finding a husband. Tasha was the only family she had.
At Oliver’s encouragement, Tema ran as fast as her shoes would let her, across the room to Tash, who stood to meet her in a hug. “Of course you can, Tash.”
“Where have you been? I wanted to say sorry for the wedding, but they said you’d moved out of your house. Oh, I thought I’d never find you.” She released Tema, and gestured to the chairs. “Sit down, sit down. We need to talk.”
“We do,” Tema affirmed. “And I think we should start with the apology.”
“Yes. Yes. I was a beast. You’re my... uh, my little sister. I’m supposed to be kind to you. I’m sorry, Tema. For every way I wronged you.” Tash shuddered, as though physically repulsed by the words. “I’ve never been good at apologising.”
Oliver gave Tema a nod, hidden from Tash’s eye line. I won’t let her say those things again. Still, Tash did not deserve Tema’s affections. She deserved to rot alone. But Tema was a fool, and romantic at heart, and it would be nice to have the old Tash back in her life. She reached across the table, squeezed Tash’s hand. “You’re good enough for me.” For a while then, they said nothing. It was enough to be able to look at her sister, and see love in her eyes. She’d thought up so many things to say if she ever saw Tash again. Somehow, none of them seemed appropriate.
The door opened and Eva the maid came in, carrying a tray full of coffee and cakes. She set them down on the table and started to leave the room. “Oh, Eva,” called Tasha, “are you turning in for the night?”
“I’d like to, Mistress Wrack. If that’s okay.”
Tash nodded. “Can you do me one last favour before you go?”
“Of course, Mistress Wrack.”
“The blanket, please.”
Tema looked at her sister. “It’s not that cold, is it?”
Tash laughed. “You tell me, you’re the one with bare legs. I’m going to have to teach you how to dress for the weather. No, it’s not too cold. But you’ll like this, I promise you.”
The blanket had clearly not been stored far away. It couldn’t have been a minute before Eva was back with it. It was a thick grey wool, the kind that would be so cosy to snuggle under on a cold winter’s day. And it was so soft to the touch. “It’s wonderful,” Tema said.
Oliver laughed. “Open it out,” he said. So she did. It was a little too big for the table, so as she unfolded it the edges slipped down the side, brushing against her legs. And in the middle was a white horse.
“We had it custom-made,” said Tasha. “And yes, Aunt Danyer would love it. We’re thinking it would make something of a family heirloom. What do you reckon?”
Tema agreed. “Yes, it would. You just need to have some children now to pass it down to.”
Tash patted her belly gently. “We’ve been working on that. That’s one of the things I wanted to say.”
It took a few seconds for Tema to put the pieces together. When she did, her eyes widened. “Are you?”
Tash nodded slowly. “Three months to go. Then we’ll have to start calling you Auntie Tema.”
She could feel her face flush. She fanned herself with her hand. And it was Tash’s turn to reach across the table and squeeze her hand tightly. “I’m glad you’re here, Tema. I want you to be a big part of her life.”
“Her?”
“Or his. I don’t know. I haven’t been for a scan yet.” Tash picked up one of the cakes from the table and bit into it. It made Tema hungry. When had she last eaten? She couldn’t remember—before the party started.
“Why don’t you pop to the hospital tomorrow? I’ll be working all afternoon, I could take care of it for you.”
Tash nodded. “Yeah. That would be nice. Now, help us eat these cakes. Mam Argent is a wonderful baker.”
And Tasha wasn’t wrong. The cakes were excellent, as was the coffee. And they talked and laughed, just like old times, until every last crumb was gone. And then they talked and laughed some more.
Oliver departed at some point, retiring to bed, and then it was only Tema and Tasha. They’d not talked like this for decades. It felt for a few minutes like they were back in the little shack in the woods, watching Jaina slave away over a kitchen fire. They’d been such awful gossips when they were both small. The curse of adulthood had taken that away. In those innocent days they’d stayed out in the grove till the late hours of the evening. Goodwife Jaina usually had to come chasing after them, bashing her metal pots together and chasing them out of the grove. What a giggle they had. The game was to try and get indoors and cleaned up around the dinner table before Goody Jaina got back inside. Afterwards they’d sit together by the hearth in downy nightwear, hot milk and butter crackers for both of them, and yawn away until they were sent to bed.
Here there was no hot milk and butter crackers, and no downy nightwear. Only the yawning. When it started to get in the way of their chatter, Tema stood to leave. “It’s time I went,” she said. “I do have to work tomorrow.”
“Not without a hug,” said Tash, standing herself. The blanket fell to the ground. Tash pulled Tema in tightly for the hug. She smelled of chamomile, no doubt from the perfume she always wore. At this stage, her sweat probably smelled of chamomile. She squeezed Tema. “Are those real tits? I thought you’d just filled a bra with tissue paper.”
“The girls are all natural, Fréreves be thanked.” The hug dissipated, and Tema took a step back.
Tasha looked at Tema. “I’m glad you came. It’s nice to see my brother again.”
It was as if time had stopped still, and sent the ground tumbling beneath Tema’s feet. She’d had her hopes up. Tasha had promised to be better, and she’d believed her. More fool her, apparently. “I’m not your brother,” she said.
“Course you are,” said Tasha. “We used to bath together, remember? I’ve seen everything you have.”
That was it. Tema started running, face turned away so Tasha wouldn’t see the tears and think she’d won. Her heels clopped heavy on the wooden floor. “I’m your sister,” she wanted to say, “and if you don’t want to accept that then we can be strangers again instead.” Instead she murmured something vague and incomprehensible, and wondered why the tears hadn’t started yet. I used to cry so easily. Why can’t I cry anymore?