A Time of Omens - Katharine Kerr [58]
“He’s done this before, has he?”
“Not for years, He promised. Why do you think my mother left him?”
“She left you with him?” Vinto broke in.
“He wouldn’t let me go. And he promised to stop. He promised.”
She forced back tears and looked up. Keeta had turned away appalled, shaking her head over and over. Vinto ran both hands through his hair and stared at the ground for a long moment.
“Well,” he said at last. “I’m sorry, little Marka, but me and the boys are pulling out. We can earn enough on our own to get back to Main Island, anyway, and we’ll think of something to do then.” He glanced at Keeta. “You and Delya are welcome to come with us.”
Keeta sighed sharply, hesitated, then looked at Marka.
“Only if you come, too, little one. I can’t just leave you here.”
Marka felt as if her tongue had swelled to block her throat. She could only stare numbly at her friend’s face.
“You little bitch, you viper!” Rimi marched over, dressed now and wrapped in dignity as well. “You’d better go with them! Do you think I’m going to put up with you after this?”
Marka could find nothing to say to her.
“Shut up,” Keeta snapped. “Her father’s got something to say about this.”
“Father will listen to her.” Marka heard her own voice whispering like a stranger’s. “If they do the smoke together, he’ll listen to her. He lost my mother over it, didn’t he?”
She began to cry again, a helpless flutter that she hated for its weakness. Through her tears she saw Rimi leering and gloating, her face swimming like some dark moon. Marka raised her hands and stepped forward; then someone caught her firmly and pulled her back: the barbarian juggler.
“Satisfying though it would be, my turtledove, to rake your nails down her beauty, it would be both unprofitable and a waste of time. The opium itself will claw her for you.”
Rimi swore like a sailor, then turned on her heel and marched off. Marka wriggled free of his lax grasp and wiped her face on her sleeve. When she looked round, there was no sign of Hamil, but from the purposeful way that Rimi was marching toward the palm grove at the edge of the caravanserai, Marka could assume that he’d taken refuge there. Vinto, Ms acrobats, Keeta and Delya, Salamander as well—Marka was suddenly aware of the way they all were looking at her, as if she were an invalid who just might die.
“You can’t stay with them,” Keeta said at last. “You just can’t. I don’t know what would happen to you, but—”
“I can guess,” Vinto snarled, “She’s not a child anymore, Keeta! She can hear the truth. How long will it be before her pig-dog of a father has her and Rimi selling themselves to keep him in smoke?”
Marka felt the earth lurch again, but she knew what she had to do. Salamander laid a gentle hand on her shoulder to steady her. She shook it off.
“We’d better pack our stuff up,” Marka snapped. “Vinto, at least one horse and wagon should be yours, anyway, for the wages we owe you.” Her voice threatened to break, but she forced it steady. “Maybe if we all pool our coin, we can get a ship back to Main Island today,”
Keeta let out her breath in an explosive puff and muttered a thanks to the Star Goddesses.
“If you wouldn’t mind me joining you with my act,” Salamander said. “We could all travel together, indeed. Shall we repair to the inn where I’ve been staying and have some wine? There shall we foment plans.”
“Glad to,” Vinto said. “We can discuss shares later. First let’s get out of this stinking camp.”
During the slow walk to town, Marka suddenly remembered the fortune-teller. Good luck mixed with disaster, was it? Well, she could see the disaster, all right, but where was the good luck?
At Salamander’s inn the portly landlord moaned and wrung his hands over the very thought of having traveling acrobats in his common room, but the juggler talked him into serving wine and little cakes, such good wine that Marka was impressed.