LITMIR.BIZ

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a trivial decision, but I will remark that she comes from a family of five healthy children, and that both her sisters have wed and produced fine healthy offspring. In these times, a lad could do far worse than Karlin.

       Erek

CHAPTER SIX

       Thymara’s Decision

      It was unusual for her mother to greet them with a smile on their return from their daily gathering. Even more unusual was for her to be fairly bursting with enthusiasm to speak to them. Thymara and her father were scarcely inside the door with their baskets before her mother spoke. Her eyes were bright with hope. ‘We’ve had an offer for Thymara.’

      For an instant, both the young woman and her father froze as they were. Thymara could barely make sense of the words. An offer? For her? At sixteen years of age, she was long past the age when most Rain Wild girls were engaged. She knew that in some places in the world she would still be considered little more than a child. In others, she would be seen as just ripening for marriage. But in the Rain Wilds, folk did not live as long as other people. They knew that if a family bloodline was to continue, they’d best have their offspring spoken for as children, wed young as soon as they were fecund, and with child within the year. Even if a girl came from a poor family, if her looks were passable, she’d be spoken for by ten. Even the ugly girls had prospects by twelve.

      Unless they were like Thymara, never meant to survive at all, let alone wed and produce children. Invisible to some folk, barely tolerated by others. Yet, here was her mother, eyes shining, saying there had been an offer for her. It was too strange. To accept a marriage offer when children were forbidden to her? It made no sense. Who would make such an offer and why would her mother even consider it?

      ‘A marriage offer for Thymara? From whom?’ Her father’s voice was thick with disbelief. Foreboding grew in Thymara’s heart as she studied her mother’s face. Her smile was thin. She did not look at either of them as she crouched by the baskets and began to select which items in them would become their evening meal. She spoke to the food they had gathered. ‘I said we’d had an offer for Thymara, Jerup. Not a marriage offer.’

      ‘What sort of an offer, then? From whom?’ her father demanded. A storm cloud of anger threatened in his words.

      Her mother kept her aplomb. She didn’t look up from her task. ‘An offer of useful employment and a life of her own, apart from us in our declining years. As for “from whom”, it comes directly from the Rain Wild Traders’ Council. So it’s nothing to sniff at, Jerup. It’s a wonderful opportunity for Thymara.’

      Her father shifted his glance to her, and waited for her to speak. It was no secret in their little family that her mother worried constantly about her ‘declining years’. Plainly she believed that if they could shed responsibility for Thymara’s upkeep, they could save more for their old age. Thymara wasn’t certain that were so; she toiled every day alongside her father. Much of what he carried home, Thymara had harvested from the highest reaches of the tallest branches, sunny places where no one else dared climb. Would her mother think it such a relief when her father’s baskets were lighter each day? And if she were gone, who would do the day-to-day chores for them as their bodies aged and grew feeble?

      Thymara didn’t voice any of that. ‘What sort of “useful employment” did they offer?’ she asked quietly. Thymara kept her voice unaccusing, or tried to. She dreaded what her mother might answer. There were all sorts of ‘useful employment’ in Trehaug. There was always the most hazardous digging in the buried Elderling city. It was back-breaking labour, shovel- and barrow-work, often done in near-darkness, and always with the possibility that a door or wall in the ancient buried city might suddenly give way and release an avalanche of mud. Usually, they chose boys for that task because they were stronger. ‘Unproductive’ girls like her were most often given the task of maintaining the bridges that traversed the highest and lightest branches. There had been recent talk of a major expansion of the network of footbridges that connected the widely-scattered settlements on both sides of the Rain Wild River and a lot of debate as to how far a bridge of chain and wood could successfully be stretched. With a sinking heart, Thymara suspected she would be part of the team that would find out. Yes. That was probably it. Everyone in their neighbourhood knew of her prowess at climbing. And such work would require her to leave her home and live close to the project. It would take her far from her parents, and perhaps even promise a swift end to her existence. Her mother might welcome that.

      Her mother’s voice was falsely cheery as she began her tale. ‘Well. There was a Trader in the trunk market today, dressed very fine in an embroidered robe, and with a scroll from the Rain Wild Council. He said he had come looking for strong young people, for people without spouses or children, to undertake a special task in service to Trehaug and to all the Rain Wilders. The pay would be very good, he said, and an advance would be given immediately, even before the task was begun, and at the end, when the workers returned to Trehaug, they would be well rewarded for their efforts. He said he expected many people would wish to be chosen, but that the candidates must be exceptionally hardy and tough.’

      Thymara stifled her impatience. Her mother could never simply state something. She told a story or a piece of news by talking all around it. Asking her questions would simply take her down yet another side track. Thymara pressed her teeth together and held her tongue.

      Her father didn’t have her patience. ‘So it’s not a marriage offer; it’s an offer of work. Thymara already has work. She helps me gather. And why should she wish for “a life of her own” as you put it, away from us? We are not getting any younger, and if there is a time when I would want her by my side, it is, as you put it, during our “declining years”. Who else do you think will take care of us? The Rain Wild Council?’

      Her mother folded her lips tightly and the lines in her brow deepened. ‘Oh, very well, then,’ she said bitterly. ‘I’ll say no more. I see I was foolish to listen to the man at all, or to think that Thymara might wish to have a bit of adventure in her life.’ Almost quivering with indignation, she folded her lips and radiated silence and anger.

      The main room of their house was tiny, but as her mother set the food on the woven pads onto the table mat, she pretended to ignore them. Thymara and her father both kept silent. Asking for more information would only increase her mother’s pleasure at withholding it from them. Feigning disinterest would win it more quickly. So her father filled the wash basin, used it, flung the dirty water out the window, and then refilled it for her. He passed it to her, saying casually, ‘I think that instead of harvesting tomorrow, we should make an expedition to bring back some new plants. Shall we rise early?’

      ‘I suppose that would be wisest,’ Thymara replied cautiously.

      Her mother couldn’t stand that they appeared to be having a simple conversation. She spoke to the kura nuts she was grinding into paste. ‘I suppose I know nothing at all about my daughter. I thought she would be thrilled to work with the dragons. She seemed so interested in them when she was younger.’

      Her father made a tiny hand motion at Thymara, cautioning her to keep silent so her mother would keep talking. Thymara couldn’t. ‘The dragons? The dragons I saw hatch, the abandoned dragons? I’d be working with them?’

      Her mother gave a small, satisfied sniff. ‘Apparently not. Your father thinks it better that you remain here, to live with us until we shrivel up and die, and then for you to be alone for the rest of your life.’ She set the bowl of mashed kura nuts on the food mat and placed a plate of weddle stalks beside it. She had baked flatbread at the community oven earlier in the day. There were six flats, two for each of them. It was not a plentiful or elaborate meal, but it would ‘fill the belly’ as her father would say. Hungry as Thymara had been but a few seconds ago, she didn’t even want to look at it now.

      But her father had been right. Thymara had fed her mother’s fury, not slaked it with her question and now the

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