Watcher's Web

Watcher's Web Chapter 28

Jessica had no idea how long she had been sitting like that when Ikay rushed into the kitchen, speaking in rapid Pengali, grabbing the towels, folding them out. Her eyes widened. No clots of blood, no strands of mucus, no vomit.

Jessica stared up, mouth trembling. "I can’t do it, Ikay, I can’t." The enormity of her decision fell over her like a wave. Tears came anew.

Ikay knelt beside her, cradling her and muttering, "I help." She ran her hand over Jessica’s stomach in calming, soothing movements. For at least five minutes, neither of them spoke, united by their bond and the life of a tiny baby. Then Ikay rose and gestured at the door. "Go. Visitor."

In the dingy corridor, Jessica undid the knots that still tied her dress around her buttocks. She smoothed the material, hand lingering on her stomach, wondering how long it would be before the slim waistline became too tight.

Most of the house’s refugees had gathered around the pond in the hall. Large eyes glinted at the archway when Jessica came in.

A couple of men she recognised as councillors of Barresh gathered under the gallery, a small light on the ground between them. Still-wet robes strained around their bulky forms, knees and legs poking out at clumsy angles. Obviously not used to sitting on the floor.

A man in dark clothing sat ramrod-straight in their midst, long-fingered hands on his knees. Oh God, Daya. What was she going to say?

She didn’t have to say anything. One of the men in khaki rose, grumbling and cursing. Dark eyes met Jessica’s. "I don’t think we’ve been introduced." From close up, the Chief Councillor had a coarse-skinned face, with a curious groove down the middle of his nose. His hair looked like a bird’s nest of uncombed curls. A head smaller than her and carrying a fair amount of excess weight, he was neither attractive nor handsome, but the smile in his eyes was genuine. "I’m Jisson Semisu, Chief Councillor of Barresh."

"I’m Jessica—"

"No." Daya’s voice sounded clipped. "Your name is Anmi Kirilen Dinzo."

She bristled. "My parents call me Jessica."

Then she felt irritated that she defended a name she had never liked, not even as a child. She did like her real name, it was just that she didn't like the way he was so definite about it, as if the previous seventeen years of her life had been worth nothing.

For a moment, their eyes met. She received no feelings or images from his mind, as if he had walled himself off.

On the floor before him lay a crudely-drawn map of the city, the stiff sheet held down by the weight of a Mirani crossbow.

Daya rose gracefully, picked up the weapon and dumped it in Jessica’s hands. It was so heavy she almost dropped it.

She glared at him. "What am I supposed to do with this bloody thing?" Wasn’t he going to talk to her at all?

"A little demonstration. Let’s go outside."

He preceded her through the corridor, out the back door into the yard.

Puddles glistened on the pavement in the advancing night. Somewhere a few streets down people yelled.

"Stand there." Daya gestured at the corner, where someone a long time ago had dumped a pile of old wood. "Aim there."

Jessica glanced at the metal slide—empty. "This thing isn’t even loaded."

He rearranged the weapon in her arms, her right hand fitting the handle. The soft skin of the underside of his forearm lingered against her knuckles. His eyes met hers and some of the warmth in them returned. His alluring scent drifted on the wind.