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set it down beside another exactly like it. It sloshed. So did the other when
the men picked it up to take it away. That one was a kind of giant chamber
pot. Zouki had seen the other kids use it and had gone to urinate into it
himself once he knew. There was another like it thirty feet along.
The men came back to exchange that. Then they hauled in a taller case and
exchanged it for its twin. This one contained fresh drinking water.
The women had finished passing out food. They stepped away from the children
and waited. The four men got shovels and bags and went back into the foliage,
apparently to clean up after the rock apes. None of the adults said a word.
Some of the children finished quickly. What they did then seemed to depend on
the child. Some took their dishes to the women, who scraped the remains of
their meals onto one of several metal trays sitting atop their cart. When one
of those was full one of the men took it into the foliage for the rock apes.
He brought a dirty pan back.
Most of the children were not bold enough to approach the women. They just
left their plates where they were and moved away. The men collected them for
the women.
The giant man never left the entrance.
The adults all went away.
Zouki spent a long time in a bubble of fear, homesickness, and longing for his
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mother. But curiosity about the apes slowly intruded upon his misery. He
finally went to see what could be seen.
Before he got to the foliage the men and women appeared again, pushing carts
that were not the same as those they had brought before. Once more the giant
stood guard after the carts had come into the cage.
Each of the women selected a child that she led to a cart. The kids went
docilely. The women stripped them naked and lifted them into the carts and
began to wash and scrub them.
The carts were tubs on wheels. Part of them, anyway.
Zouki did not like baths. He asked the girl who had spoken to him earlier, "Do
we all have to take a bath?"
"You do. You're new."
Holy Aram! They were even washing their hair! He hated having his hair washed
more than he hated anything else in the world. He thought about running to
hide with the apes, but he could not move.
The women removed their victims from the tubs, toweled them off, and dressed
them in clean clothing taken from a hamper on the end of the cart. Then they
went after more kids.
One headed straight for Zouki!
His muscles refused to act. He could do nothing but shake and start to leak
tears.
The woman was not unkind as she took his hand, hoisted him, and led him
unresisting to her cart.
He did not fight back till he saw the pitcher rising to dump water over his
head. He squealed and batted at it, missed. The water gushed down over his
head while a firm hand held him still. He shrieked then, and started pumping
his legs up and down, running in place, splashing.
Firm hands sat him down in the water and forced him to lean forward. Water
cascaded over him, leaving him sputtering. Hands began rubbing soap into his
scalp. But after the indignity of the wash and rinse there was more, something
that smelled vile and burned his head.
A woman's voice asked, "Is this the new one?"
"Yes, ma'am." Another woman. The one torturing him.
"Is he in good shape?"
"Except for head and body lice, which they all have when they come in, he
appears to be in good health and excellent physical condition."
"Good. Are you about ready to pull him out of there?"
"One more rinse, ma'am."
Water splashed over Zouki's head. Then hands hoisted him out of the tub, set
him on the floor, began drying his hair with a towel. He opened his eyes.
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Facing him was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.
She reached out and took his face between her hands, her palms against his
cheeks, and made him look into her eyes. "Don't be afraid. Nobody's going to
hurt you."
"I want mom!"
"I know." She patted his cheek.
The woman toweling Zouki asked, "Is he the one, ma'am?"
"I don't think so. Not obviously."
Zouki thought she looked very sad.
Arif considered the tactical situation. Mom was trying to get dressed while
Stafa was trying to climb on her and Mish was complaining about something Nana
had said to her. None of them were watching the door. It was a good time to go
see what was happening.
He just walked out the door like it was something he was allowed to do anytime
he wanted.
As children will, he had forgotten to take into account all facets of the
situation. His grandmother grabbed hold of his clothing and with one yank sat
him down beside her. "Where do you think you're going, Arif?"
"I was just ..."
"Just what, Arif?"
"Just going to see what the Dartars are doing." He stuck out his lower lip.
"A bird is going to nest there." Nana pinched his lip. "You know the rule. You
and Stafa can't go out unless a grown-up goes with you."
"I was just going right up there."
"Right up there is where the bad man grabbed Zouki yesterday. Remember?"
"Well, he wouldn't grab me! If he did I'd punch him in the nose! I'd punch him
so hard ..."
"Arif!" Nana glared at him. Her face was starkly serious. "This isn't a game.
It isn't play. It's real. How are you going to get away from the bad men when
you can't even get away from your old Nana?" She reiterated, "It's not a game,
Arif. Now tell me the rules. What are you supposed to do?"
Lip out farther, Arif began reciting the litany of responses he was to make if
somebody tried to kidnap him.
Mish rushed out of the house. "Mom, did you see Arif? He . . ." She saw him
sitting there. Almost instantly, her eye strayed to the Dartars up the street.
She did not hear a word Nana said. She always got deaf whenever Mom or Nana
started yelling at her.
* * *
Azel strolled all the way around Government House twice, looking to see who
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was watching, if anyone was. He did not spot anyone. If someone was around he
was good enough not to give himself away. That would be unusual for the
ground-level men of the Living and impossible for the Dartars, who could
not-and probably would not-disguise themselves as anything but what they were.
There were jokes and parables about the Dartar inability to adapt. "Stubborn
as a Dartar," was a maxim as old as Qushmarrah itself.
Azel strolled to a tradesman's entrance, knocked. A soldier opened a peekhole.
"What you want?" he demanded. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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