The Fecund's Melancholy Daughter - Brent Hayward [92]
Several people headed across the courtyard, perhaps staff, though it was too dark to be sure (and the fecund was moving pretty quickly now), watching in disbelief before rejoining the shadows from which they briefly emerged.
Beyond the gates—which were open, as always—and from there across the Garden, the fecund slowed to a trot, pausing at the junction of two narrow streets, her sides heaving, to sniff at the air. Octavia watched the monster glance at the buildings all about, eyes wild, snorting and stamping before choosing one of the dark routes—Tanager’s Grove—to follow.
“Nowy Solum,” Octavia said, leaning forward. Crowded structures loomed either side. There were very few people about. “This is the city. Nahid might be in the ostracon, or working Hot Gate.”
“Is the river this way?”
“The river? Sure. But why . . . ?” Octavia struggled to keep her grip on the heaving flanks. The rough skin of the fecund was cold between her thighs and the ridge of the monster’s spine jolted painfully against her butt. She had her arms around the thick neck. “Slow down. Where are you going? Why to the river? Think Nahid’s there?”
“My contractions are getting closer together. I need the water.”
No one had been hurt in the escape, and no one—as far as Octavia knew—was in pursuit. Yet from behind she heard some form of commotion. She did not look back. A woman they passed on Tanager’s Grove began to scream.
The River Crane was at the end of the street, on the other side of the promenade; Octavia saw the sluggish water when the fecund’s trot caused her to bounce high enough. No one walked the promenade. She smelled smoke. Coming out between the last buildings to cut across the verge, and from there over the path of the banks, the fecund had no choice but to slow down. They negotiated mucky rocks on the shore.
“Listen, fecund, has something gone wrong?”
Several kholics worked the river. A fire burned among them, and there was food cooking, probably fish, but this was not the fire she had smelled earlier. As the fecund passed by, they watched warily, with surreptitious glances, but did not flee. Octavia tried to see if Nahid was among this group but the dusk was full and the fecund displayed no interest in lingering.
“But you can’t go in—”
Foul water splashed into Octavia’s face as the monster lunged into the river and began to wade deeper. Octavia was considering trying to get off when the fecund—deep enough in the water now—began swimming. Straddling her, Octavia had to rise as high up the fecund’s back as possible.
“Please,” Octavia said, “where are you taking me?”
“This is not about you or your brother.” The fecund had to lift her snout free of the water to breathe. “I need to be here.”
From the shore, the kholics had begun to call out to each other, words Octavia could not catch, no voice her brother’s.
The night, at least, and the water lapping at her hips, was warm, almost refreshing. Though Octavia could not control her mount, or understand why the monster seemed to be transforming, shrinking, or even decaying, she felt as if her nerve endings were starting to sing, as if being out of the palace had woken her from a deep slumber. Overhead, the clouds were tumultuous, and scents of the river—filling her sinuses, mingled with traces of smoke—were thick and familiar and comforting. She had tears in her eyes. She let out a cry, almost a growl, which echoed off the flanks of Nowy Solum, rising high either side, startling the creature beneath her.
Using her tail, and subtle movements of her body, the fecund proved to be a strong swimmer, despite what was happening to her. Toward the centre of the river, with the slums of Talbot Lane on the opposite side and the crooked shadows of Jesthe on the other, the fecund turned. They began to move upstream, against the current. Only the beast’s neck and the top of her head came out of the water. Octavia was drenched.
A lizard flew low over the water, wings outstretched.
“You’re going to need to stop soon,” Octavia