The words of divorce and disinheritance.
“It’s better this way.” She said it. She knew it was true, but for a long, aching moment, she wished it wasn’t.
“These are my wife’s children,” he said.
Oh, no. It’s only been six months … “Who?” she croaked.
“Branch in the River.”
Of course. She bowed her head. After her family and the smith’s, Branch was the loudest voice in the village. Nail wasn’t one to give up rank if he could help it.
“No!” howled Little Eye, clutching Arla’s pant leg. “Mother!”
No! Arla wanted to howl, too. These are mine! But Nail had stayed while she had gone. She had broken the law, been cursed by the Teachers, committed heresy, oh, her list of crimes was a long one. She had lost the right to her children before she had even gone over the World’s Wall.
Better this way. There was still so much to do. She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t be their mother. Couldn’t ever be. She’d known that when she left. Known that for a long time.
“Come home, children,” said Nail. His voice didn’t change. It was level and grumbling, like nothing was ever quite good enough. Nameless Powers, how that endless discontented note had driven her so crazy, even after she’d learned to read it like the signs in the weather.
She could read it now. What he really meant to say was that he also wished it wasn’t better this way.
“No!” wailed Little Eye.
“Shush.” Arla laid a hand on her daughter’s … Branch’s daughter’s shoulder. “Your father is right,” she said. “Go home now, all of you, or do you want to look like a bunch of disobedient oxen in front of everybody? Go on.”
One by one, they left her side, and the comfort of coming home left with them. Storm Water kept his steady gaze on her the whole time while he scooped Little Eye into his arms easily. Nail put his back to her and marshaled them all through the houses and the weeds until she couldn’t see them anymore.
“Everyone knows whose children they are,” said Shaper at her side.
“They are Nail in the Beam’s and Branch in the River’s,” she answered him. “Which house is my mother’s, Shaper? She’s sure to have heard the ruckus.”
“She’s with Cups and Torch.” He pointed toward one of the cabins farther up the rise.
“You’ll want to see her alone.” Eric’s voice almost jumped her out of her skin. She’d forgotten he was there at all.
“Shaper, this is Eric Born. Eric to you. He’s a Skyman and I’m vouchsafing him. Give him a spot by the fire, will you?” She spread her hands and her voice wobbled. “I’ve got nowhere to welcome him to.”
“You’re welcome, Skyman, in my sister’s name, my wife’s, and mine.” Shaper held out his hand. Eric stared at the scars for a moment and then shook it. Shaper glanced at Eric’s gloves, and then at Arla.
“He’s embarrassed, Shaper. Skymen have no hand marks, and he think’s it’ll wound his dignity if everyone sees him naked as a baby.” She was tired, something inside her ached horribly, and she still had to face Mother. “Just take care of him, will you?”
She pressed through the bamboo until the cabin came into sight. It was no different from the others with its wicker walls, thatch roof, clay chinking, and bamboo legs. In the doorway hunched her mother, Eyes Above the Walls. She was wrinkled, mostly blind, and bent in as many different ways as a Crooker tree. She could barely walk without help. The joke among the clan was that the Nameless Powers had forgotten her name and couldn’t call her away to die, so she just lived on.
“Hello, Mother.” Arla crouched down beside the stoop.
“Thought I heard your voice,” Eyes Above said. Her own voice creaked like tree branches in the wind. “Well?”
“I … well, what. Mother?”
“Are they still with you?” she said impatiently.
“Yes.” I should have known.
Eyes Above leaned forward eagerly. “And still answer you? Still alive in your hands, are they?”
“Yes.”
She let out a long sigh. “Then welcome home, Daughter.”
Relief washed over Arla. She gripped her mother’s wrinkled hands and felt the strength that was still in them as Eyes Above squeezed her in greeting. “I wasn’t sure …”
“Well, you should have been.” Eyes Above let go of her hand. “As long as the stones stay alive for you, then you are working the will of the Nameless, no matter what the Teachers say. The stones would not permit themselves to be used for the Aunorante Sangh. And as long as you serve the Nameless, you are my daughter.”