Shadowkill

3

The dye vats were in a large open shed in a secondary court west of the main court. There were lengths of cloth drying on lines shaded by thatch roofs, hanks of yarn draped over pegs, and vast steaming tubs of color with women walking on narrow ledges about them, stirring the cloth or yarn or tufts of wool with long wooden paddles, their hair protected by kerchiefs from the steam, their faces smudged, dark colorings under every fingernail. Blackened with coal dust and red with the heat, young girls tended the fires under the vats, fetched coal from bins built into the yardwall. Others rushed about with fleeces, fresh yarn, rolls of cloth. It was a busy, noisy place, women talking, laughing, the girls singing, chattering, all of that despite the hard heavy work they were doing.

Matja Allina inspected everything, the stores of ground colorings and other supplies,, the work done while she was gone, looking for quality and quantity. Then she settled onto the leather seat of a folding stool. “Uri, Gintji, little chals, little songbirds, come and sing for me. Teach young Kizra here some homesongs.”

Uri was a small pink and white child, with hands dyed a dozen colors and frizzy blonde hair escaping from short plaits. Gintji was longer and thinner, with less color in her face and more in her hair. They curtsied solemnly, conferred in whispers, faces flushed, blue eyes skittish. Then they turned and stood holding hands, singing in sweet true voices, small voices that fit the moment and the song.

“The sun rises,” Uri sang.

“Mayra spins the red threads.

The moon rises.

Mayra spins the white threads.

“The sun sets,” Gintji sang.

“Hirmnal tends his sheep.

The moon sets.

Hirmnal shears his sheep.

“Sun and moon, moon and,” they sang together.

Love waxes, love wanes

Day turns to night, night to

A young man grows old

A girl bears and rears

Sun and Moon, moon and sun

Love waxes, love wanes.

“The sun rises.

Mayra weaves her bride cloth…

“The sun sets.

Hirmnal fattens his sheep…

Kizra picked up the tune, began playing her own thread to the song; the girls were startled and stumbled over a word or two, and then were back on track and finished with a flourish.