Free Nest of Worlds by Marek S. Huberath Page B

saw a row of scars on her upper back, mostly small.
    “They whipped you?” he asked.
    “No. That was something else. At one point they removed . . . you know, I had things on my shoulders and neck. There was too much ultraviolet, they said, a danger of cancer. It doesn’t look too bad. But many of the women were carved up worse. As punishment. They overlooked me somehow. A white woman doctor removed all my moles. She did a good job, cosmetically.”
    She looked around.
    “There’s no furniture!”
    “On the other hand, we have a telephone, and I’ll be buying a car soon.”
    “I used to dream of our home in Davabel. There would be a big cupboard in the kitchen, with doors that had little windows, and a spice cabinet. When I still dreamed.”
    “For the time being you’ll have to make do with a rug and an inflatable mattress for two. And we’ll have a problem getting clothes for you. I threw out those filthy rags, and there’s nothing else.”
    “The underwear is all right, that’s the main thing. Did you wash my bra and panties?”
    “They’re soaking in detergent. All the bacteria are crawling out.”
    “Good. But don’t forget to scrub them too. Meanwhile I can wear your clothes. Jeans and a flannel shirt.”
    “They’ll be too big.”
    “The people will think it’s the fashion in Lavath. I’m dozing off, OK?”
    He covered her better. He went and scrubbed her underwear. Then he got into bed beside her. In the window was the rising sun.

19
    Ra Mahleiné lay in bed all morning, curled up in his jacket, because she was cold. He put a bouillon cube in a pot of boiling water for her.
    He went downstairs for only a moment, but long enough to get gum on himself: Zef had stuck a wad under the table. The young Eisler was maintaining his image. Edda offered to provide meals for Ra Mahleiné, at an additional sixty packets. Gavein agreed, though it was expensive. But Ra Mahleiné would soon be cooking for the two of them. Leo, he learned, had been referred to a neurologist, his dizzy spells becoming too frequent.
    Gavein reminded them that he had a white wife. He wanted to get a sense of how she would be accepted at the table. There was no reaction, except that old Hougassian gave a faint smile.
    Gavein brought two portions of pasta upstairs, then two of pizza. He and his wife ate together, alone. He noticed for the first time that she was missing a tooth.
    “A woman pulled it. On the boat. It was growing crooked, sideways. She said my teeth all had to be at attention and used pliers on me, the hag. It hurt so much. She was the chief guard. Somehow she didn’t see that I had two other crooked teeth.”
    The black eye was puffy but not as purple, and the split lip was beginning to heal. He inspected her face: there would be scars. Her nose had changed the most; it was flatter, maybe longer too. It gave her face an expression of reluctance, or dissatisfaction.
    “They broke my nose at the beginning,” she said, seeing his attention to it. “It bothered them. Perhaps it was too regular. Then they operated and took cartilage out, so it would be soft, like the nose of a boxer, and not get broken again when they beat me.”
    “Poor little nose.” He put out a hand to touch it.
    “Don’t,” she said, pulling back. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”
    She made another sad face, which was even sadder because of the nose that drooped.
    “Tell me about those years on the boat,” Gavein said. “Were they worse than your quarantine or better?”
    “It’s such a chunk of time, those years. I don’t know where to begin.”
    A long pause. Then:
    “The crew were all from Davabel, all women, and all reds. Those born in Lavath have a complex about blacks, and they despise whites. As soon as you leave the port, they take away your name and give you a number. That number they pound into you. Get into trouble, and you scrub the deck or peel potatoes. I got into trouble immediately, because it seemed to me that