Leodora wondered about Soter’s ghosts, so her aunt appeared preoccupied with where her uncle might be. Their unease they shared as if it were a condiment; but neither could speak of it.
Finally, when they were halfway through their portions, Gousier arrived. The smell of sweat fermented in fish and liquor accompanied him like a homunculus. Had they missed the liquor’s stink, neither of them missed the looseness in his stride and the flush to his face as if he’d run home from Ningle. Gousier drunk was too familiar a sight—it was the timing of it that was peculiar.
Dymphana stopped eating to watch him. She was watching, Leodora knew, to see how he reacted to their having begun without him. If his day had gone poorly he could explode without warning, angered by meaningless things. More than one dinner had been brought to a halt by his unprompted anger, and drunkenness did not necessarily augur well.
This night he fairly beamed at them, however. In particular, when he looked Leodora’s way, his eyes grew sly. It was clear he would not lose his temper, but the cagey, slow smile with which he considered her twisted knots in her stomach.
He took his place at the head of the table, and Dymphana spooned a serving into his bowl. While he waited for her to finish, he remarked, “What a grand day I’ve had. Just grand.”
“The fish sold well?”
“Yes, yes they did. We hardly had to throw any away.”
“But you had to stay late up there?”
“Late? Ah, no.” Another darting glance at his niece. “No, we come down about sunset as usual. I don’t like to navigate those steps in the dark, you know that. No, I been back awhile.” He considered Leodora again with hooded eyes. “I went over to settle up first.”
In a voice from which she couldn’t mask suspicion, Dymphana said, “They invited you to drink with them?”
He smiled. “They did that, yes. One of them in particular wanted to toast with me. A widow, she is.”
This last piece of information seemed so entirely superfluous that the two women exchanged glances to see if either of them understood the reference.
Obviously enjoying their perplexity, Gousier offered up another clue. “The poor creature has a terrible burden to bear. Her husband is dead.”
“Is there a different kind of widow than that?” Dymphana asked in a distinctly icy tone.
“I didn’t finish. Dear.” A hint of his true nature punctuated the syllable. “Alone, she’s burdened with a son. Her only child. A man must fish to provide for his family here. This one, though, can’t fish. Can’t be trusted with a net. Why, he’d be pulled right off any dragon and drowned.”
“You’re speaking of that poor imbecile, Koombrun.”
“Right you are.”
“And why should his circumstance matter to us now? Are you going to put him to work? Is he going to haul your fish?”
Gousier chose that moment to begin eating. He chewed the rice as if he had years to finish. Then he drank some water, cleared his throat. “Tenikemac would never allow such a thing. Why, that would only alienate the poor woman further. She’d be a pariah if anyone in her family went onto the spans.”
“So, he’s to help me in the cavern, then, Uncle,” Leodora guessed.
“Oh, I do hope so, after his fashion. As best he can, being what he is. You’ll have to teach him. Once you’re married, of course, I expect you’ll have to teach him everything from gutting fish to where to stick his—”
“Once I’m married? To Koombrun? To an idiot?”
“Just because he is mentally deficient don’t mean your children must be. Probably, they’ll all be normal. I’m sure they will and so’s his mother.” He beamed at her with affected bonhomie, beneath which an edge of malice glittered.
Her first instinct was to throw her bowl at him, but she grabbed the table instead and tried to maintain control over her terror and hate. “I’m not marrying anyone,” she said.
“Oh, but you are, Leodora, my little niece. You’re in my house, and my keeping. And I’m telling you that your only hope on Bouyan is to marry into that village. The normal ones there would never even consider you. You’ve been up on the spans yourself and the fact that you were a toddler, not aware of the rules, the choices, that cuts no fish with them. This widow—she needs providing for, she’s a burden on her neighbors, and you can fix that with your share of the takings every morning.