Read Online Moongather by Jo Clayton - Free Book Online

be waiting for you. Never forget an injury, those animals.” His mouth stretched into a slight smile as he reached out and touched the tip of the bowstave. “Do you ever miss with this, little meie?”
    â€œNot often.” She watched the boats moving into the middle of the tappata. The men left behind were walking silently back toward the waking village. On the bank she could see at least half the boats still perched high above the water. “You expect the Kapperim to come back?”
    He jabbed a long bony thumb at the sprawled bodies. “That bunch, they won’t be back but others’re sure to come behind them. Already had half a dozen raids hit us.” He tugged at a beard plait. “I tell you this, meie, I bear you no ill will, but better you go quick, you hear? My woman is fixing up the things you asked for. No need you going back in there.” He nodded at the village. “Fetch your macai.” He grinned suddenly and as suddenly sobered. “Lots of them to choose from.” Without more words he turned and strode off toward the gate.
    A macai bonked mournfully, then strolled past her chewing at a succulent louffa, the long slim leaves dangling from the mouth jerking rhythmically and gradually shortening. Chuckling now and then, Serroi moved through the grazing macai, looking them over with an eye trained by Tayyan until she found one that pleased her.
    She edged cautiously toward it, using her eye-spot to send out waves of reassurance. It watched her warily but didn’t move off, only shied a little when she rested her hand on its skinny neck. She scratched at the slick warty hide, then rested her forehead against the macai’s shoulder, the sharp dusty smell of the beast triggering memory.…
    A long skinny blonde with scraped knees, a tear in her sleeve, a small bandage on her nose, Tayyan strolled into the stable, looking the macain over, her inspection accompanied by an assortment of sniffs, mostly scornful. Serroi was stroking the neck of a new hatched macai, pleased by skin striped a brilliant amber and umber and softer than new spring grass. Tayyan knelt beside her, hard blue eyes softening. She held out her scruffy hand for the colt to sniff, then settled herself beside Serroi. After a moment she edged her hand close enough to touch the quivering nose, stroked it gently until the little macai honked its treble pleasure. More moments passed in companionable silence, then Serroi and Tayyan began talking.
    Tayyan’s father was mad about macai racing and shared that obsession with his daughter. She rode almost before she could walk, refused to sit meekly with the women and learn the maidenly arts her aunts struggled to teach her, escaped to the stables at every opportunity where she was treated more like a son than a daughter. But all this ended on the day they brought her father home belly down over a macai’s back, his neck broken.
    Her oldest uncle moved in, a rigid man, dull and lumpish, jealous of his popular older brother, seeing slights in nearly every word. He shut her in the women’s rooms, demanded that she learn a woman’s tricks, had her beaten, beat her himself, when she defied him or sneaked away to the stables when life became too much for her. When she reached her twelfth year, her uncle betrothed her to a friend of his, thinking to rid himself of her. And so he did, though not the way he intended. She crept out one night, saddled a macai and took off for the Biserica.
    Serroi sighed, rubbed the back of her hand across her nose. Humming a ragged tune, she stroked her fingers along the macai’s neck, then scratched at the folds of skin under its jaw. The beast nudged her, then butted its head against her shoulder, honking plaintively, begging for more scratching. With a shaky laugh, she complied. Then she pushed away, sighing, and swung up into the saddle.
    The macai hopped about a little, but calmed immediately as she kept a firm