Breakable Things by Cassandra Khaw

Breakable Things by Cassandra Khaw

Author:Cassandra Khaw [Khaw, Cassandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Undertow Publications


“Wrong, Scahul.” A gentle rebuke, feather soft as it floats down the shadowed corridor. “It’s a basic error, however. Many presume that the Ten Thousand Colors have a united physiology, a uniformed distribution of collagen in their muscle fibres. But we do not. Our muscular composition differs from—”

Yavena accelerates. Her steps lengthen. It is all she can do to resist breaking into a lope. She crosses the threshold into the kitchen, her voice hoarse when it escapes. “Iraline?”

She interrupts the scene: a kitchen vast enough to contain hundreds, a fragrant landscape of gleaming steel, threaded with spice and carnivore predilections. An Ovia stretched provocatively over a broad wooden table, posture relaxed, expression inviting. She is tattooed with ink, limbs separated by lines, her most delectable regions marked for easy identification. A quill—lime-green; it is from her own person—dangles from her claws.

Around her, a battalion of Gak, their hands crowded with notepads. One clutches an inkwell.

“Yavena?” The Ovia rights herself. Her manner is delicate, fertile with confidence. Every motion is an expression of art. “Yavena! What are you doing here?”

“Iraline—” Now Yavena’s voice weakens, pales to a whisper. An avalanche of memories—Iraline at her Naming; Iraline’s exhausted mien as she clutches her firstborn; Iraline and she as nestlings; Iraline, her sister of the spirit, her saviour, her sacrifice—chokes Yavena. Her knees sag. “Ira—”

“You’ve said my name twice already, you know?” A fluting laugh. “No need for the third, little sister.”

“I’m sorry.” Yavena’s head lowers for an instant before she adopts a semblance of propriety, her smile ambassadorial smooth. “It’s just been—I’ve—”

“It was you who caused all that commotion, wasn’t it? Winning game after game, the Ovia foreigner, beating all the Gak at their own tricks. I’m so proud,” Iraline says, excitement gleaming silver in her voice. She flutters a hand at the waiting mob of Gak who disperse after sketching respectful half-bows, their faces unreadable. Chattering softly among themselves, they slink back to their duties, the sounds of culinary effort rising like a war chant. “Did you kill anyone?”

“Yes. I—”

Iraline turns smoothly, an arm draping around Yavena, dominance claimed with a flippancy even kings would envy. “Well, finally. You were long overdue. Who ever heard of a Bloodless Keeper? You have no idea how many times I had to defend you among the other Mothers, who all thought you were a little… off your game, to borrow from the locals. Too kind to be a killer. Too—”

“Motherly?”

A jolt of remembered grief, and Yavena shrugs free of Iraline’s grip. She was never meant to be Keeper. Iraline was. It was Yavena who was meant to bear a hundred eggs to a hundred strangers. Yavena who was meant to waste her last days in the kitchens of their benefactors, their masters.

“You said it, not I.”

Yavena shrugs. She is too grateful for Iraline’s presence, too enraptured by the scent of her—milk and vanilla, with a dusting of talcum—to consider offense. “I’m happy you’re alive, Iraline.”

The answering smile is halfway between ruefulness and pleasure, an expression glazed with sadness.



Download



Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.