13
Hatyara stood with a face like a thundercloud, arms crossed about her small chest, her cheeks a darker ice blue than usual. She glared towards Únik as though she had requested something vulgar from her. To the side, Shihiri sat against a tree, staring at the fletching upon one of her arrows as though that arrow was the most important thing in the world. The little smile on her face, though, showed she listened to every word.
"I'm not wearing those!" The Ice-Kin kicked out at the pile of clothing before her, sending the dress, underclothes and boots scattering. "They're disgusting! Bad enough you made me wear those filthy furs!"
"Do you want to be seen? Is that it?" Crouching, Únik tidied up the pile of clothes. "Is your ego so fragile that you need everyone to know who you are? What you are? Or do you just like having most of your body on show for all to see?"
"They are disgusting!" Her foot raised to kick out at the clothes again, but Únik picked them up before the slippered foot could hit them. "They are a child's clothes. Do I look like a child?"
Únik glanced towards Shihiri as the Fae sniggered, her eyes staring at the fletching with intense scrutiny, while she nodded her head. In truth, the Ūtharan did look much like a child. Short, slight of frame, no curves to speak of and a complexion that Únik ventured had hardly seen harsh sunlight. Perhaps the girl did look like an adult to other Ice-Kin. To the other people's of Karramon, she had the appearance of someone yet to reach puberty.
Smoothing the clothing in her hand, Únik sighed. Arthid had refused every option of bartering. Lhidik had disappeared, into a side room, returning with the clothes, pressing them into Únik's hands and shushing every protest that Únik made. The clothes were a gift and Únik could use her furs for supplies, instead. Únik already missed the warm family.
"Look, you need to hide. That's the top and bottom of it. If you want to reach Star Harbour without people telling our pursuers they've seen you, you have to disguise yourself." Grabbing Hatyara's hand, with more force than she expected of herself, Únik dropped the clothes onto the Ice-Kin's palm. "Wear the bloody clothes, or, I swear by all the Patrons, I'll strip you down and force you into them myself."
Clamping her mouth closed, Hatyara glared at Únik with undisguised fury, her almost-white eyes seeming to blaze with white-hot fire. Únik ignored that, turning Hatyara by her shoulders and pushing her behind a stand of bushes. Hatyara stopped her forward momentum, raised her chin in the air and moved with deliberate slowness to disappear behind the bushes.
"If it looks like a child, talks like a child and acts like a child, it's a child." Shihiri raised her head, giving Únik an amused smile. "I've seen enough children. If you were her mother, I'd advise a good chastising, over the knee."
"I'm not anybody's mother." Dropping to the ground, Únik felt as exhausted from talking to Hatyara as from walking for an entire day. This was nothing like she remembered motherhood, but, then, her memories were irreparably scarred.
"And what is this?" A bare arm appeared from behind the bush, holding a long, wide strip of cloth, intricately dyed. The arm disappeared, only to return holding something else. "And gloves? Why do I even need gloves?"
"It's a scarf! To cover your face, as the gloves are to cover your hands." Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Únik felt a headache begin to pinch at the front of her skull. "We talked about this. If people see your blue skin, that's you known far and wide. Ice-Kin don't come to Uriok!"
The Ūtharan acted as though her life was not in danger. As though she could stride through the countryside of Uriok without a single care, unharmed, accosted by no-one, not recognised as someone out of place. Únik could not seem to get the Ice-Kin to understand the seriousness of her situation. Instead, Hatyara would walk through villages and towns and would feign surprise when they told everyone they knew, and anyone who asked, exactly what and who they had seen. The folk of Uriok had rare opportunities to see Other-Kin, let alone Ice-Kin, who tended to stay in their own lands.
Once again, Únik paid serious consideration to taking Hatyara to this next town and letting her find her own way from there. Every time she considered it, she suffered a slew of conflicting feelings, ending with the inevitable, crushing knowledge that she would escort the annoying girl all the way. She could not do any less. Unfortunately.
Hatyara emerged from behind the bushes, pulling and tugging at the dress, the neck opened wide and pulled down, over her shoulders. The dress, a subtle red colour, with stitchings of black upon the bodice and down the skirts, skimming the ground, looked simple, but well made. It suited Hatyara, fitting to the Ice-Kin's small body as though made for her. She dropped her own clothes to the ground, along with the scarf and gloves.
With a groan, Únik forced herself to stand. She turned Hatyara around, pulling the dress up over the Ice-Kin's shoulders, pushing the white hair out of the way, and then began tying the laces at the back. Hatyara struggled, for a little while, attempting to pull the dress back down to expose her shoulders once more.
"I can't even show my shoulders? Don't you know they are the most attractive part of a woman?" With a sneering glance over her shoulder, Hatyara jerked as Únik pulled the laces tighter. "Of course you don't. Look at you, with your shoulders like a man's. What would you know of attractiveness?"
Slumping her shoulders, Únik bent down, picking up the gloves and scarf. She noticed that Hatyara had not worn the underclothes. She had no more heart to argue with the Ice-Kin. If she wanted gales rippling up her skirts and freezing her nethers, that was up to her. At least, now, most of the unmissable ice-blue skin was out of sight. She pressed the gloves and scarf into Hatyara's hands and turned away.
She passed by Shihiri, with her questioning eyes, and moved off, out of the small clearing, Barsa following at her heels. She needed space away from Hatyara, for a moment. Únik could not seem to understand the Ūtharan. One moment, cold and haughty, dismissive and arrogant. The next moment, warm and affectionate, in a stand-offish fashion, somewhat sweet and touching.
Once alone, she lifted a hand to her shoulder, pressing and squeezing against muscles built over many years struggling in the wastes around Tracis' Midden. There was nothing she could do about that. She lifted her woollen jacket, revealing her stomach. She didn't push it out, it fell over the top of her breaches without any help from her. She pinched the flesh, then lifted her breaches up, untying and retying the strings that held the breaches in place. Barsa looked up towards her, one ear raised, the other flopped against his head. Barsa didn't care about her weight.
"Get off my hair!" The high-pitched screech from Hatyara penetrated the thicket of trees and Únik caught her breath. If anyone passed within a hundred feet, they would hear that. Únik began to dash back.
"Stop shouting!" Hissing through gritted teeth, she found Hatyara facing Shihiri, fist raised. "Patrons' blood! What's going on?"
"It's her! Trying to tie up my hair like a servant's!" The fist turned into a pointing finger, aimed towards Shihiri, who only looked amused at the furious Ice-Kin.
"I just said, 'best put up your hair, too'. No-one in two hundred miles has hair like that, not natives, at any rate." Tossing a length of leather string into Hatyara's face, Shihiri turned away. "Well, I'm done. She's going to get found and killed, you know? All because the princeling here wants to look pretty."
The headache that had started to press against Únik's skull, now began to throb. Barsa, still at her side, seemed to know she felt pain, nuzzling his head against her hand, putting his weight against her leg. She scratched his ears and then looked up to Hatyara, stood with her nose in the air.
"Do you want to die?" She didn't snap, didn't sound angry, or persuasive. She felt too tired for that. Hatyara's mouth opened and closed several times. "It's a simple question. Do you? Because we're trying to make it so that you don't die. We're not torturing you for the fun of it. We're not forcing you to wear a fool's clothes as a joke. We genuinely want to make sure you stay alive long enough to become consort to this king, whoever she is. That's it. If you don't want our help, just say and you can go it alone without anyone telling you what to do."
"I ... I didn't say that." Hatyara looked from Únik to Shihiri. She shuffled from one booted foot to the other. "I just ... I'm not used to any of this."
"I'm not asking you to get used to it. Just to endure it, for a little while" Pushing her palm against her aching head, Únik lowered herself to the ground. "Just until you're safe. I'm going to sleep. Arthid will be waiting at the other side of town, in the morning."
Pulling her roll of furs towards her, she laid her head upon them. She closed her eyes and felt Barsa curl himself down beside her, his head on her waist. The idea of leaving Hatyara in the next town continuing to run around in her mind, fighting with her sense of obligation and humanity. She didn't know which would win, in the end, for now, she only wanted to sleep.
-+-
She awoke with a clear head. Hatyara and Shihiri sat as far apart as they could and Únik wondered if this was how it could have been if she had ever had a second child. Had the first child lived, that is. Squabbling and headaches. The thought of Arthid and Lhidik's children play-fighting, but enjoying each other's company came to mind.
They packed up what few belongings they had and set off to the other side of the village, staying far away from the boundaries, keeping low and silent. Arthid's cart sat some distance outside the village and he appeared to stand checking the hooves of his old cart horse. Upon seeing the group of disparate people, he climbed onto the bed of the cart, lifting a sheet and urging them on.
"Two little pret'yuns under the sheet, quick!" He offered his hand to Hatyara, who looked at Únik, scowling. Arthid rolled his hand with impatience. "Come on, afore you's is seen!"
Without asking, Únik grabbed Hatyara by the waist, lifting her onto the cart bed, the Ice-Kin's legs kicking, helpless. Shihiri jumped up without aid, laying herself down on the bottom half of the folded sheet. Barsa also jumped up and seemed disappointed when Únik called him down to walk at the side.
"Why the rush?" Climbing up to the seat at the front, she watched Arthid clamber over, retrieving the reins for the horse and slapping the animal into motion before he sat down.
"People's been asking questions. So they have. Riders." Looking over his shoulder more than once, he set the horse and cart travelling at a fast pace, causing the cart to jump and roll with every indentation upon the road. "Hagragng folks if I's not mistaken. What with their thick clothing and straight cut boots."
"What did they want?" Twisting around, Únik looked back toward the village. As she did so, she saw Shihiri lift her face under the sheet, frowning.
"Don't know. I didn't talk with 'em. But others did." He avoided eye-contact with Únik, his eyes flickering back to the road. "Folks'll talk as soon as breathe in that village. So they will. I's hope they didn't talk too much, but I's can't be sure."
"I'll catch up." Shihiri had already moved to the back of the cart.
"No. What are you going to do?" Spinning in her seat, Únik reached for her whale hook, thrown in the back of the cart with their other belongings. Shihiri paused.
"Whatever I have to." She held Únik's eyes a little longer than Únik liked, communicating in silence. "I'll be fine. I'll be back before you know it."
"Don't ... don't kill anybody. That will only confirm we're around." Únik watched as the Fae nodded and then jumped from the cart, landing as easy as jumping from a rock. She disappeared into the undergrowth and Únik chewed her lip.
"She's a good babbie is that one. Good head on her shoulders. So she has." Giving the reins another sharp slap, Arthid urged the horse on. "Best the other pret'yun stay down, though. And quiet, I'd say."
Arthid had heard the muffled grumbling coming from behind, and the constant shuffling as Hatyara attempted to make herself comfortable. The Ice-Kin seemed to have no sense of danger. That, or no control over herself and Únik couldn't tell which she found worse. She thought about it for a few seconds, then called Barsa up to the cart bed, hoping the presence of the animal may keep Hatyara happy.
The cart trundled on and they all rode in silence. Even Hatyara became quiet, a hand reaching out from beneath the sheet to stroke the fur on Barsa's neck. Únik didn't like riding in silence. It felt ungrateful, for some reason, after everything Arthid had done. From making Únik feel welcome in his home, to giving her the clothes for Hatyara and putting himself in danger, taking them to the next town.
She felt more than grateful, however. Even with a cart travelling slow, it still ate up the miles faster than walking. Arthid kept up the pace as long as he could, then slowed down in order to not tire his horse. Únik felt as though she should thank him once again. Looking back, she saw no sign of pursuit. Or of Shihiri.
"I must thank you, sirrah. I feel this is an imposition too far." She looked to the side and saw Arthid shaking his head, his long nose moving to-and-fro.
"None of that. Arthid, or nothing at all." He chuckled, rubbing his nose. He glanced over his shoulder, lowering his voice. "She'll never pass as yours, you know. She looks young enough, but soon as anyone sees that hair, or those eyes, there'll be questions. So there will."
"I know." Únik had thought about it, herself. The scarf would help, but Hatyara's eyes were unmistakeable. "We have to make do as best we can."
"I's been thinking. We could pass the town, continue on to the next one along, Prarbruk. There's a bridge across the river there and a road straight to Star Harbour. I could take you all the way? Take a good week off your journey? So I could." Pulling a kerchief from his pocket, Arthid blew his nose before returning the kerchief to his pocket. "The wife wouldn't mind, so long as it's for a good cause."
"No. Absolutely not! You've done far more than anyone could ask of you." With the whale hook propped against the foot board, leaning against her shoulder, Únik tightened her grip at the thought of this kind man putting himself in more danger. "I've been thinking, anyway. We could say she's suffered Mule Pox?"
Arthid mulled over that for a second or two, inclining his head and making a thoughtful grimace. Mule Pox had an unfortunate symptom that left some people blind. The scars alone were enough, but to suffer blindness, too, Únik could not imagine. It could work, however, giving reason for the scarf and gloves. If people didn't know well enough, they might accept eye colour changing as part of the disease.
"Could work. You'd have to make sure's they don't think it's this plague out of Hagragng." The man nodded to himself. "The pret'yun would need to keep covered all the time. Aye. I's reckon that'd work. So I does."
"What would work?" Making both Únik and Arthid jump, Shihiri's head appeared between them.
Like some kind of ghost, manifesting from thin air, the Fae had returned without the slightest of sounds. She looked no worse for wear. Not even out of breath, though she must have run like the wind to catch up to the cart. After they recounted their conversation, keeping their voices low, Shihiri dropped back onto the bed of the cart, a broad smile upon her face.
"Of course, that won't go down too well." She jabbed a finger towards the bump under the sheet, where Hatyara lay. Shihiri lifted the sheet, looking under and shaking her head. "Asleep."
"What of the riders? Did anyone give us away?" Without thinking about it, Únik glared back down the road, squinting to see if anyone followed.
"Oh, they talked!" Shihiri ran her hand through her mahogany, vine-like hair, chuckling to herself. She shook her head towards Únik. "Apparently, some big beast of a man paraded around like they owned the place, stole bread from our man here and ran off to the south. Not my words, I might add."
"So, we're safe?" Únik didn't care about the villagers mistaking her for a man. Not that much. That the rumours had said she left towards the south would help.
"For now, I'd say. Don't expect it to last. These people have a habit of catching up." Reaching into her leather jack, Shihiri pulled out a couple of apples, tossing one to Únik. She put a finger to her lips then pointed at the mound beneath the sheet. "Say nothing."
Únik felt more than a little guilty as she bit into the apple. She didn't want to ask where Shihiri had got them from, either. She could only feel glad that they had, at least, a little breathing room from their pursuers. Shihiri was right. They did seem able to find and catch up to them, despite everything placed in their path. From lakes to rivers. She had to take good news when it came along.
And the apple was gorgeous.