Passage - Lois McMaster Bujold [179]
Noting that no blood-sucking tentacles had yet reached out to grab Hawthorn’s ankles, she took off her shoes and socks, too, gave them to Dag to carry, and walked through the tickling foam despite the chill. She scooped up a handful of the water and, not that she hadn’t been warned, tasted it—salty, metallic, and vile! But for all that, not regretted. She spat it out and made a face that made Dag grin, or at least smirk.
A half-mile on, they came upon a huge dead fish washed ashore. It was even bigger than Dag’s channel cat, sleek gray with a pale belly, with an ugly underslung mouth lined with far too many sharp, triangular teeth. It had teeth in rows. It had evidently been there awhile, because it also stank to the sky, which at least saved any argument about its edibility and whether Fawn should be made to attempt to cook it. Hawthorn, Remo, and Barr were delighted by it, especially the jaws. Dag and Fawn walked on, leaving them crouching down trying to cut out the jawbones from the smelly carcass to carry off for a souvenir, possibly to work the teeth later into some sort of Lakewalker hair ornaments. There certainly seemed to be plenty of teeth to go around. Berry and Whit wrinkled their noses at the aroma wafting up from this process and retreated as well, to walk side by side along the top of the dunes.
Fawn and Dag held hands and strolled on, though after the fish with the teeth Fawn put her shoes back on and kept her feet safely to the damp sand. You just never could tell about Bo’s stories. Fawn glanced up to find Dag’s brows had pinched again. She thought of shaking him out of his abstraction, or making him wade in the water to wake up, or something. Instead, she simply asked, “What’s weighing so heavy on your mind?”
He pressed her hand, smiled too briefly. “Too much. It’s all a tangle, in my head.”
“Start somewhere. Doesn’t matter which end.” Whatever had bit him was still gnawing, that was plain.
He shook his head, but drew a long breath, so he wasn’t going to go all surly-quiet, anyhow. “My healing work, for one. I saved two fellows in the cave. If there’d been three or more hurt that bad, the rest would have died all the same. How can I set myself up as a medicine maker for farmers when I know it’d be a cruel false promise for all but the first-comers?”
“Even Lakewalker medicine makers have helpers,” Fawn pointed out.
He frowned thoughtfully. “I sure do understand now why they leave as much to heal on its own as they can.”
“Two’s still more than none. And most days they wouldn’t come in mobs like that.”
“But on days they did, it could sure get ugly.” His frown did not lift.
“There were other problems came clear to me at the cave, ones I hadn’t thought of. Justice, for one. How can Lakewalkers and farmers live together if they have to have separate justice? Because there’s bound to be clashes, that’s what justice is all about, dealing with clashes folks can’t settle for themselves.”
Now it was Fawn’s turn to say, “Hm.”
“Crane said…” He hesitated.
“You shouldn’t let Crane’s lies get under your skin.”
“Isn’t his lies that bother me. It’s his truths.”
“Did he tell any?”
“A few. You are what you eat, for one.”
Fawn sucked her lower lip. “All folks learn from the folks around them. Good behavior and bad behavior both. You can’t hardly help it.”
He ducked his head. “Lakewalkers tend to think themselves above that, when they’re amongst farmers. Takes ’em by surprise to be taught anything, it does.” He added after a moment, “It did me, leastways. But the other thing he said…”
Sudden silence. Now we’re getting down to it. “Mm…?”
“About Lakewalkers rising to the top. One way or another. Whether they want to or not. That, I’m afraid I’ve seen. On her own boat, Berry defers to me!”
Fawn wrinkled her nose in doubt. “You’re also a man near three times her age,” she pointed out. “You’d be a leader amongst Lakewalkers.