Uncanny Magazine Issue 42 by Lynne M. Thomas

Author:Lynne M. Thomas [Uncanny Magazine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: science fiction, fantasy, magazine
Publisher: Uncanny Magazine
Published: 2021-08-29T00:00:00+00:00

The God of Good Death. Where is He now?

You have better not angered the God of Good Death.

Stranded so far away from home.

Sinister beasts will steal your soul.

You have better not angered the God of Good Death.

It has this sorrowful tune that makes it difficult not to think it’s all about you. And it is. About all of us. We all came from the same original colonists. But they adjusted to this place differently. They fit right into the cracks of this island as if they were made for it all along.

And then of course it’s the venedolphin meat.

There are pots on the fire with boiling pavofig leaves. The Alimniots turn the juice into a gel and use it to fish in the ocean, where the fishes are bigger and more slippery. The forbidden fishing toxins.

The man leads us to a company of people around a table. They all chew on pieces of jerky and at first it looks like it’s veal because of the deep, deep red color. But it can’t be. Alimniots don’t have calves, only skinny goats, and they trade very little with us. When I realize what it is I am already too close and everyone is staring at us.

It’s just meat. Just meat.

I’ve been away for more than a decade but some things are too rooted inside of me to just get over them. This taboo is definitely one of them. I try to hide a gag reflex but I must look sick. A young woman in a black t-shirt and cargo pants gets up and ushers me away.

“Are you okay?” she asks. She has sleek black pools for eyes and hair cropped short.

“I am fine. It’s just—” I try to speak but the words get strangled in my mouth.

“It’s the meat, isn’t it?” she knits her brows together.

I nod and cover my mouth with the back of my hand, trying not to gag.

“Wait here,” she says and disappears inside the purple house.

Not a minute later she comes back with a large pavofig sliced in half and a glass of water. I take the water and we sit on the terrace, away from clamor of adults and children and even Clem who sits in a corner of a table alone, the rest of the company has moved to the other side.

“Are you Damara?” I glance at a pavofig slice, violet blotchy skin around blue flesh.

“Yes.” She smiles and nudges me to take a slice. “And you are Themis.”

I bite into the moisture right in the center. Juice and seeds spatter on my shirt. It tastes so impossibly sweet that only the tangy aftertaste on the back of my tongue will balance the sugary shock.

Before I have the chance to ask how she knows me, she surprises me again.

“Did Melas ever talk about me?”

The tanginess spreads in my mouth. My tongue feels so tender I can barely speak.

“No.” I swallow a huge gulp of water. “We didn’t talk lately.”

“Ah.” She looks at her hands holding the pavofig.

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