my permanent aunthood pays off. Mama Luet, your baby needs you."
They laughed - because of course they knew that Shedemei was as likely to change a baby's diaper as not. This business of giving the baby back to the mother whenever taking care of it was a bother was only a joke.
No, not only a joke. It was also a wistful regret. Shedemei's reminder to herself that, like her husband Zdorab, she was not really one of the company of women. She had been on the verge, Hushidh knew it, of telling something that mattered... and then the moment had passed.
As Luet cleaned her baby, Shedemei watched, and Hushidh watched her watching. Near the end of her bath, Luet was wearing nothing but a light skirt, and the shape of her motherly body - heavy breasts, a belly still loose and full from the birthing not that many months ago - was sweetly framed as she knelt and bent over her baby. What does Shedemei see when she looks at Luet, whose figure was once as lean and boyish as Shedemei's is still? Does she wish for that transformation?
Apparently, though, Shedemei's own thoughts had taken a different turn. "Luet," she said, "when we were at that lake yesterday, did it remind you of the Lake of Women in Basilica?"
"Oh yes," said Luet.
"You were the waterseer there," said Shedemei. "Didn't you want to float out into the middle of it, and dream?"
Luet hesitated a moment. "There was no boat," she said. "And nothing to make one out of. And the water was too hot to float in it myself."
"Was it?" said Shedemei.
"Yes," said Luet. "Nafai checked for me. He passed through the Lake of Women too, you know."
"But didn't you wish that you could be - for just a little while - the person you were before?"
The longing in Shedemei's voice was so strong that Hushidh immediately understood. "But Luet is the same person," said Hushidh. "She's still the waterseer, even if she now spends her days on camelback and her nights in a tent and every hour with a baby fastened to her nipple."
"Is she the waterseer, then?" asked Shedemei. "She was - but is she? Or are we nothing more than what we're doing now? Aren't we truly only what the people we live with think we are?"
"No," said Hushidh. "Or that would mean that in Basilica I was nothing but the raveler, and Luet was nothing but the waterseer, and you were nothing but a geneticist, and that was never true, either. There's always something above and behind and beneath the role that everyone sees us acting out. They may think that we are the script we act out, but we don't have to believe it."
"Who are we then?" asked Shedemei. "Who am I?"
"Always a scientist," said Luet, "because you're still doing science in your mind every hour you're awake."
"And our friend," said Hushidh.
"And the person in our company who understands best how things work," added Luet.
"And Zdorab's wife," said Hushidh. "That's the one that means the most to you, I think."
To their surprise and consternation, Shedemei's only answer was to lay down Dza on the carpet and lightly run from the tent. Hushidh caught only a glimpse of her face, but she was weeping. There was no doubt of that. She was weeping because Hushidh had said that being Zdorab's wife meant more to her than anything. It was what a woman might do if she doubted her husband's love. But how could she doubt? It was obvious that Zdorab's whole life was centered around her. There were no better friends in the company than Zodya and Shedya, everyone knew that - unless it was Luet and Hushidh, and they were sisters so it hardly counted.
What could possibly be wrong between Zdorab and Shedemei, that would cause such a strong woman to be so fragile on the subject? A mystery. Hushidh longed to ask the Oversoul, but knew she'd get the same answer as always - silence. Or else the answer Luet already got - mind your own business.
The best thing and the worst thing about turning back and taking another route south was that they could see the sea. In particular, they could see Dorova Bay, an eastern arm of the Scour Sea. And on clear nights - which all the nights were - they could see, on the far side of that bay, the lights of the city of Dorova.