but the sight of my empty larder reminded me of my empty stomach and I opened it again, wordlessly snatching his gifts before banishing him once more. I gobbled the herrings whole, sitting with my back to the door. I think he was listening.
Your night time crying worsened, in spite of the new blanket and the trick of rocking you. Magda’s bangs and crashes worsened too, especially at night, when I paced the floor endlessly in the dark. Others joined her protestations, grumbles and shouts from other dwellings, candles lit, faces at the windows. More storms came in with the heat. The hills were drenched with rain and thunder shook the walls of my house every hour of every day.
In the day I saw them talking in the square, hushed and in huddles, flicking their gaze at my window. They were not themselves.
One night, as I completed my 372nd perimeter of the room with you wailing into my shoulder, I heard doors slam and footsteps on stone. Torchlight flickered through my window. My door hammered.
‘Ima.’ It was Niklas. Other voices murmured behind him. ‘Open your door.’
I did as he demanded. On my porch were fifteen of them, torches in hand, breathing hard. Each face carried a distinct vision of rage.
‘What do you want?’ I said. My voice was cracked with exhaustion.
‘You know what we want,’ said Niklas, directing his eyes at you. Magda scowled behind him. ‘Sleep.’
‘As do I,’ I replied.
‘But we cannot,’ said Magda. ‘Because of the noise that comes from your dwelling day and night. It must be stopped.’
The figures behind her shuffled and grumbled in agreement. I looked between their dark faces, full of shadows, seeking out some trace of the grace and intelligence that had once led them to save a planet from doom. They had become a witless mob.
‘I think I have been clear with you,’ I said. ‘This project is vital to the council, and to…’
‘Vital.’
Magda spoke the word in disbelief.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘That is not what I have heard.’
‘And what have you heard?’
‘What I have heard is that…’
‘Magda.’ Niklas silenced her. ‘This does not help. Whatever the priority of your project, Ima, the noise is robbing us of rest. Many of us are involved in transcendence now, and we cannot function when… when that thing is screaming every hour of every night.’
‘It is not every hour. He slept for two last night.’
‘It must be stopped.’
The hot mass behind him renewed their baying.
‘And how,’ I said—I attempted to keep my voice calm, as much for me as you—‘do you propose I stop it?’
Niklas glared at your scalp and bent towards you. His right eyelid twitched.
‘I know how I would stop it. It would be quick.’
This was new territory. I had never seen an erta display such aggression in my life. Lack of sleep had more consequences, I surmised, than mere forgetfulness.
‘Get away from my door. You are behaving irrationally.’
‘No.’ Rain poured from my porch roof and down Niklas’ furious face. ‘Not until you stop this disturbance. For good.’
‘But, I cannot.’
‘Then put him somewhere else. The food store, wood shed, stables, anywhere far from here. So we can rest.’
‘I can’t put him there. He will suffer.’
‘You must do something.’
The figures closed in on my door, and I felt myself shrink beneath them.
‘Get away. You are not rational.’
‘Take it from her,’ I heard one of them say.
That was enough. Beyond the wall of figures, fresh waves of rain lashed the stone, but I pulled up my hood and pushed through them, into the storm, leaving them hissing and babbling behind me.
I RAN THE perimeter of Fane, smothering your cries in my robe, my breath the only other sound above the roar of rain. I soon broke through the trees and found myself on the beach, where I sat upon a rock and, protecting you beneath the canopy of my hood, looked unblinking out at the wild sea. I was alone again, drifting with neither direction nor destination in mind, like…
It was not like anything.
I had to think.
I could walk to Oslo, find Haralia. She could help me. Perhaps we could even swap settlements, so that she and Jakob could be together permanently. Would they actually want this, I wondered? Jakob might, but Haralia—I suspected she somehow drew excitement from their separation, like…
Not like anything. Nothing is like anything.
In any case, a move to Oslo would only leave me with a new set of villagers to irritate. Perhaps I could move to Ertanea instead. I could raise you