Sheri S. Tepper by After Long Silence

Author:After Long Silence [Silence, After Long]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

12

In Deepsoil Five, Thalia Ferrence had adapted reasonably well to the presence of her sister, Betuny, who had arrived from Harmony with scant possessions. Since her arrival, however, Thalia had acquired the habit of strolling off several times during the day and almost always at dusk to the low wall that separated the shrubby garden of her house from a narrow roadway and the brou fields beyond. When she had been much alone, she had ached for company. Now that her sister had come to keep her company, she ached to be alone. Betuny was all right. She cooked well enough, old recipes from their childhood that Thalia relished as much for the nostalgia they evoked as for their slightly disappointing flavor. Betuny maintained the house well, too, being scrupulous about keeping each thing in an accustomed location so that Thalia would not stumble or fall over unexpected barriers.

But Betuny chattered, commenting endlessly on everything, and Thalia found herself wearying of her sister's voice, wanting nothing, neither food nor a neat house nor company, so much as silence. Betuny had a theory about Lim's death. Betuny thought she understood Celcy's character. Betuny considered it wicked of Tasmin to have gone off like that. Betuny philosophized about the Presences. Betuny knew a way to raise the money to have Thalia's eyes fixed--every day a new commentary or a new plan, each more fly-brained than the last, each day the same voice, going on and on and on.

So, Thalia had announced her need of a few moment's meditation from time to time, flavoring the announcement with a spice of religious fervor, and Betuny had manners enough to accept that, albeit reluctantly, though she could not really respect it. She had, however, gone so far as to drag out an old chair and put it in the corner of the wall where Thalia could find it easily. Thalia could sit there for an hour at a time, musing, her head on her folded arms atop the low barricade, listening to the soft sounds of doors opening and closing, women calling children in to supper or to bed, the shushing pass of quiet-cars, and more often than not a chorus of viggies sounding much closer than she remembered hearing them when she could see.

There were few loud or aggressive sounds, and the voice that accosted her from across the wall one evening came as a shock even though she had heard the slow gravelly crunch of feet approaching down the road.

"Are you Thalia Ferrence?"

She nodded, uncertain. It was a cold hard voice, not one she recognized, and she was very good at recognizing voices.

"Tasmin Ferrence's mother?"

She nodded again, paralyzed with fear. Had something happened to Tasmin? She started to ask, but the voice went on relentlessly.

"Are you blind?"

She bridled. "That's not a nice thing ... "

"Never mind. I see you are, lucky for you. You have a daughter-in-law? A grandchild?"

"No," she said. "My daughter-in-law is dead. And the baby she was carrying."

"Not Tasmin's wife. The other one.

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