Esti had left her hair down, which was never a good omen. The sun was hovering high in the sky, Eguzki's breath showing in waves of heat that rose from the grass like a shimmering mirage. She had woken up this morning alone and sick, too queasy to eat anything. Now noon had come and she still hadn't eaten, and had fought off sickness and the unabashed stares of Xanti's old friends. Esti knew what they thought of her. Her hair curtained her face as she made her way to the large longhouse where the women gathered to weave, ducking under the eyes that watched her.

Just before she entered into the cool shade of the longhouse, Esti looked up and wiped at the sweat on her brow. Eguzki looked back -- the eye she could never escape. Even in the blistering heat, she couldn't suppress a shiver.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dimmer light, but soon the moving, chatting shapes of the women came into view. A few glanced up, watched her uneasily, and looked away again. Meeting their suspicious eyes, Esti felt the briefest pang of fear and disgust toward them -- them, and the child growing inside her. She tried to keep her hands from touching the hard place on her stomach, walking briskly through the throng to her loom, set up a little ways apart from the rest. Her work had been moved; she wondered if they had put it away from the others on purpose, and then realized it wasn't necessary to wonder. Still, she said nothing.

A pattern of colorful stripes and bold black shapes greeted her as she sat down. Esti had always had a hand for weaving, an unexpected skill to counteract her boyish ways. The Gathering was in a few days. She had been working on this blanket for her husband-to-be ever since she'd found out...

Esti twitched at the thought of the baby, and she nearly ruined the newest design she'd been working into the blanket. Her designs would mean nothing to someone else looking at it, no more than pretty shapes, but each one was a distinct symbol. That was the way it was supposed to be, she thought. Love and marriage -- those were private things. Her gift to Inaki should have its own privacy, too.

She ran her hands over the soft thread that had made the blanket, wishing she could take it down and hold it tight. Right in the center was a symbol she had made to mean protection. And under the eyes of the tribeswomen, Esti knew she would need it.

Amaya bent forward over her weaving, humming to herself quietly. It was one of the only escapes she had. Even her humming faded away when her daughter came in. She should have watched her. How hadn't she seen this? After raising her own children, Amaya had somehow overlooked Esti and Iñaki falling in love, or whatever it was they had done, and mistaken the signs of pregnancy for grief, or fear... of course, she had feared too.

And now her son was dead. Xanti was dead.

Her lips were now compressed in a tight line, and her hands shook. She wove a simple, undyed bolt of cloth. She was in mourning, and would remain that way for a long time. Xanti... he had been such a good child. She had been so proud of him, and she hadn't seen that he was too good, and Eguzki had taken him.

But now Esti was all she had left, she realized. Her sullen, sulking daughter bent forward over her loom, and Amaya sighed, then stood and made her way over to the girl.

"Are you--" She sounded harsh and accusatory, as usual. But she could try. "Are you still feeling sick?" She sat down beside her daughter, but couldn't quite bring her hovering hand to rest on her shoulder, and put it back in her lap.

She was rolling up the sleeves of her undyed mourning tunic so that they wouldn't interfere with her work when she saw a familiar figure rise from the mass -- her mother, Amaya. Esti's heart sank, heavy with fear and regret. She and her mother had never gotten along well, and she knew that Amaya had favored Xanti. Now, with rumors that Esti's love for Inaki had caused them to conspire, and kill him, she could only imagine her mother's fury. And the pregancy...

Esti was surprised when Amaya came and sat beside her. "Yes, ama." She pursed her lips and glanced at her mother, not sure what else to say. Working quickly, she put another line or two on the blanket, and then leaned back to talk. "I hope it will end soon. It won't do any good for me to get thinner." This time, her hand unconsciously went to her belly. Esti was startled to find that a tiny, invisible swell had begun to form under the cup of her palm. It wouldn't be long until she started to show, and the whole tribe would hate her... including Amaya.

"How are you, ama? We -- we haven't talked much." Her dark eyes were wary as she regarded Amaya. Both of them knew who was blamed for Xanti's death, and with the evidence of her love for Inaki hidden under her hand, her mother would have direct reason to be angry.

"No, we haven't. It should end soon, and it helps if you eat bread just when you wake up." Amaya's voice was clipped as she recalled what this meant--before they'd left for the raid, that ill-fated... Iñaki... her fists clenched. Esti was hardly capable of conspiracy, her rational mind new that, but sorrow had curdled to hatred in her heart when it came to Iñaki. Zeru said that he was more a leader every day. But he should never have been a leader. Should never be one.

Is it because of me, she wanted to shout at Esti, in that way of mothers. Is it because I didn't love you enough when you didn't deserve more love? She had always been a difficult child. When she was a mother, soon enough--this winter--maybe she'd understand. Amaya watched her daughter as she drew a hand up to her middle.

"Are you pleased," she said, her voice bitter. She couldn't help herself.

Her mothers voice held such a vehement bitterness that Esti couldn't help but flinch. Every harsh word still had a sting, every insult still hurt deeply. Why? It had been like this since she was a child. Esti should have come to expect it of her mother by now, but at every opportunity, Amaya belittled and hurt her, and Esti crawled away, dejected, to lick her wounds. She would never, she swore in that moment, behave this way to her child -- and the realization of the thought was shocking.

Now Esti was given a choice. She could lie to her mother to hurt her -- say that she was pleased and that she wanted the child. Or, she could tell the truth. And that option was a less appealing one.

"No," she said finally, looking at her mother. "I'm not pleased. I don't want it. I was -- we were foolish, we did something very foolish out of love and it turned into something horrible. No one will talk to me or tell me what to do, and I miss Xanti almost as much as I love Inaki. No, ama, I'm not pleased. I hate it. It disgusts me. I didn't do this for me."

She hadn't done it for anyone, or meant for it to happen at all, she added silently, but did not say it. The mention of Xanti would be enough to keep Amaya occupied for some time.

"Ah." Amaya felt taken aback by her daughter's bluntness. But then, while she had always tended to keep hurt inside, where it soured her, Esti was a complainer. When she had been younger it had been adorable. Now it was annoying, but still--her heart softened a little toward her daughter. She was so young. Obviously not capable of plotting to murder her own brother. The idea was monstrous, appalling. It was in her head, but she could move away from it.

"Things happen that are beyond our control," she said at last, with a long sigh, thinking of Xanti. Eguzki, how she missed him. He was... she recalled with tenderness the first movements of his fingers and she had to shut her eyes.

But here was her daughter, in front of her. She took a breath. "What is it you wanted to ask, Esti? I am your mother." Resignation.

Mother. Esti shivered at the word. Her hand lifted from her belly almost instantly, hovering over the loom for a minute before finally coming to rest on the ground. What was it that she wanted to ask? She wanted to ask what she had done before this to earn her mother's scorn and denial. She wanted to ask why the entire tribe believed that she was so evil she would kill one brother in order to sleep with the next. She was not. So why would they believe it, unless someone was behind them, feeding the rumors? But she would not accuse her own mother of that.

"I don't know anything about it, ama. I'm just a child. When Healer told me, it had been two moons, now almost three and that seems like enough to me. But I haven't even -- I know I have to," she made the same vague gesture of roundness that she had done with Inaki, thought of her father's angry face, and looked to Amaya. The same anger hinted at her mother's eyes. Esti looked away again. "I know I have to grow. I know about birth and I know about babies. But I don't know how I go from this --" she pointed to her flat belly, "to this." A rocking motion with her arms, as though she held an invisible baby.

And the incredible hope blossomed in her that for once, her mother might listen and try to help her. Sympathy was a far-off dream, but any advice she could get from the one woman in the tribe that would talk to her would be a help at this point.

Amaya folded her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. It was incredible that her daughter seemed not to know the slightest thing about the cycle of human life, but then, who had been supposed to tell her? She hadn't. She'd assumed that a girl as wild and headstrong as Esti would have figured out the consequences of her actions somehow.

Well, obviously she hadn't. "It takes much longer," she said at last, sighing a little, her voice gentle. She recalled her own early confusion when she'd been pregnant with Xanti, also very young. She had been the wrong sister, just as Iñaki was the wrong brother, and that, too, had scared her. "Two more seasons," she said at last, "maybe six turns of the moon. The baby grows very slowly at first, but then its spirit floods into it and it starts to move and grow much more." This was how it had been explained to her, and fit her experience. "Be patient--for once." Now she was back to spiteful comments about her daughter. Well. What could she ask, really.

"Maybe if you'd come to talk to someone before you--" She bit off the words, twisting her hand under her arms. "It's to late now. But you're too young. And too skinny. I don't know how this'll be for you. If you'd waited..." Behind her voice was the question: if you'd waited, would Xanti still be dead? Or would none of this nightmare have happened? She didn't say it. She couldn't let her suspicions come to life; they'd destroy her.

"I don't have much choice but to be patient. It's there now, and it's staying."

Despite the frequent jabs her mother was making, Esti was glad for the help and advice. At least she knew a little more now, and her heart was more at ease knowing that the baby had a spirit, even inside her body. It would be awful to carry around some soulless thing inside her for almost a year, another six moons.

Was it always this uncomfortable to talk with your mother about these things? Esti wasn't sure she had a typical mother, but she couldn't imagine ever being able to smile or laugh about a pregnancy with her mother -- especially at her age, as Amaya was quick to point out. "I wasn't quite expecting this to happen, ama," she said quietly, running one hand through her hair. "It was the first time I'd ever even been with a man, I wasn't thinking of --"

That wasn't supposed to have left her mouth. Trying to shrug it off, Esti coughed and turned her attention to the blanket she was working on. The colors suddenly seemed less vibrant, the symbols more menacing than comforting. Amaya's bristling presence behind her was threatening, too -- she was walled in by anger and discomfort. What had made them like this? Was it something I did, she wanted to ask, Some mistake that I made, as a child, that made you love Xanti so much more? Esti usually wasn't one to believe that people could change, but she'd seen such a difference in Iñaki that she had renewed hope.

"You're right; it's too late. I did a stupid thing, but not a bad one, and I ne-- I am asking you to help me. Please." A muscle in Esti's jaw ticked as she ground her teeth, fighting the awful feeling that came with asking her mother such a monstrous favor.

Amaya looked at her daughter in puzzlement, then, tentatively, touched her on the back. It reminded her of when she'd held Esti as a baby; she had the same smooth skin now, the same narrow vulnerability of body. Of course, everything was different now. She let her hand drop, very slowly.

"What do you need?" she said. She honestly didn't know. What could Esti want with her, after years of seeming independence? Being headstrong, she reminded herself, was not the same as being independent. She would do well to think about that more. Zeru had told her that he thought better of Iñaki now. She'd have to listen to him. And maybe it was His will, if Esti and Iñaki had conceived after one time. Or maybe, as always she thought with a twinge of pain, it was just bad luck.

"Not much. It's stupid," she replied, swiping at her eyes with the heel of her hand. She hadn't even realized that the tears were coming, they just came, and when she thought about it she hadn't a clue why she was crying. Esti made a sound of disgust and sniffed. She didn't like displaying this kind of emotion in front of her mother. "I just... Iñaki's been busy with aita, because now aita knows he has to teach him. And he doesn't have much time until the Gathering. And everyone else blames me for --"

Esti sighed, exasperated. Even Amaya felt the same about what had happened to Xanti, wondered if it had been planned, if Esti had wanted it to happen. "I didn't want to marry Xanti, that's true. But I would never have done anything to hurt my brother. I hope you can believe me. I hope -- I -- I just don't want to do this alone. I thought I could do everything on my own, but ama, I can't. I won't ask for much." The girl straightened, crossing her legs in front of her, one knee bouncing with tension and frustration. Her brows furrowed. With one last scrubbing, all the tears came off her face and left her pink-cheeked and glassy-eyed, looking very young and frightened indeed.

"Am I supposed to feel this... crazy?" she asked, laughing a little.

"All right." Amaya nodded slowly. It was foolish to blame her daughter for the death of her son; it simply wasn't possible, she thought, it didn't make sense. Had Xanti even wanted to marry Esti? Well, she hadn't thought of it that way; it was simply the way things were, not a matter of 'wanting' at all. If it came to it she had thought she'd wanted to marry someone other than Zeru, herself... She had thought of Xanti as the one who would do his duty, like her. And he had never so much as looked at any other girls.

And she had, Amaya realized, resented Esti for having the courage she hadn't. The realization was gone in a moment, as it probed memories that were too raw for comfort.

"Am I supposed to feel this... crazy?"

Tentatively, Amaya reached out and dabbed at the last of the tears under Esti's eyes, then smoothed back her hair, as she'd done when the girl was very young. "Yes, the Healers say it's because you have another soul growing in you, which gives you extra emotions, extra feelings," she said, explaining it, again, the way it had been explained to her. "Sometimes it can make you very sad, because souls don't like to leave Eguzki's side, but sometimes they can make you happy."

An extra soul...

Esti had heard of the Special ones, the men with the souls of women, or the women with souls of men, even one person with two souls in their body. Those were things she did not comprehend. This having of an extra soul in her body, of providing her skin as a house for her babe, she comprehended. And, with a shock, she realized that for the first time, the baby was no longer 'it' but 'hers'. It stirred in her something completely new, like a word she was coming to understand.

There was meaning now. Eguzki had intended something, and it had happened. The strange effects it was having on her had some basis; everything was not random, as it had been before. Esti pressed her hand to her belly one more time, felt the subtle rise there, and thought: This is a baby. This is a soul. She was still a little confused, and frightened, but now there was a definition, a purpose.

"I see now," she said, smiling a little. A weird euphoria came over her, quickly fading into nothingness in the presence of her mother. Amaya hadn't comforted her so tenderly in ages; they hadn't, in fact, been able to sit in civil conversation like this in years. Their talks usually ended in screaming or tears. It was nice to be able to talk with her mother like grown-ups, Esti mused. And then, tentatively:

"Did I make you happy, or were you very sad?"

"I was happy to have you." She had expected to have the daughter who would make a wife for Xanti; that had been why she'd been so happy. "I was very happy," Amaya repeated, remembering. She shut her eyes for a moment, and opened them to see Esti put her hand on the place where her baby grew.

"I expected a lot of you," she said at last. It was true. And she'd been disappointed. But that she didn't ask. Yes, Esti hadn't been as beautiful a baby as Xanti, but that hadn't been the real disappointment. And, yes, she hadn't been as well-behaved, either. Amaya wasn't actually sure why she had come to resent her daughter so much; maybe because she had simply failed to be exactly what Amaya had wanted, the perfect wife for Xanti.

Well, now she was going to be Iñaki's wife. And Amaya couldn't help but feel she had failed in some way. Was Eguzki punishing her? Or was She his tool, too? She shook her head and looked down at her hands. Startled, she realized she could see the veins in the backs of them. She was getting older. She was going to be a grandmother. The thought startled her; she hadn't thought about it in those terms at all.

"Are you... have you thought of any names yet?" Amaya spoke tentatively, trying out new ground; trying to talk to Esti like an adult.

"I know," Esti said quietly. She knew how much her mother had expected of her even as a baby. She was to learn to cook and sew and weave, and a little hunting; she was to be quiet, calm, polite, thoughtful... the perfect wife. Esti had been none of those things. She had rebelled, become the opposite, all out of fear and resentment. In a way, she and Amaya both resented one another for things that neither of them could control. And now here they were, desperately trying to reconnect a broken bond, but unable to remember how.

In spite of the thought, Esti gave her mother a smile. "I'm glad I made you happy, at least for a little while." Then, shyly, to the place under her hand, "Are you supposed to make me happy, or sad?" The place, of course, did not respond, but Esti felt a little thrill go down her spine as she talked to the baby. She laughed at her own silliness and sat up again, resting her hands on her knees.

"Are you... have you thought of any names yet?"

She hadn't. That made it seem so much more real. But for the sake of the moment, for the sake of her mother, Esti thought about it. She discovered that there were a few names hovering in the back of her mind, names that she had heard. The kind that made her think, unconsciously, 'That's a nice name for a girl', or 'What a handsome name for a boy'. "I hadn't thought about it... but I guess I've always liked Eder and Sendoa for a boy. For a girl, I don't know." She tried to think of the name she'd heard in one of the outlying tribes... a little girl had borne it, with black pigtails and slanted eyes much like her own.

"I think Txori is pretty. I haven't thought about it much. I guess it's more important to think of boy names, since it would put the tribe more at ease if the baby was a boy, don't you think?"

Amaya nodded, suddenly tight-lipped, and swallowed. "Our line has always been--lucky--enough to have boys first." She swallowed again, recalling how she had hoped, while she was pregnant with Xanti, and how she had celebrated, believing that his birth was a blessing. After all with all the trouble with her sister running away...

But she had been the one destined for Zeru. That was how it had been. She couldn't say she had loved him, but. Well. Maybe Esti and Iñaki were destined, too, who knew. But then, some part of her still yearned for Xanti, and still half-believed he was alive, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. If they had only brought back his body...

"I like the name Sendoa," she said at last, more brightly. "When I thought you might be a boy, I considered it, and I always thought that if I had another child that's what I would name him, but--Eguzki never saw fit." She shrugged.

Listening to her mother, Esti wanted to tell her what Zeru had said to her in the healer's tent. That if Xanti were alive, however slim the possibility, and returned to them, that Iñaki would be sent away. That she would be married to Xanti and her children treated as Xanti's children. That if it was Eguzki's intention, she would obey without an outward fight. Inside, however, she would wage war. But she did not, because it would only give Amaya false hope, and when nothing happened, sow more bitterness between them.

"Saw fit," she repeated, rolling her tongue around the words. They had a funny taste in her mouth. "They --" Esti said, motioning to the women in the tent, "-- do not see me and Iñaki as fit. If this child is a boy, if Eguzki sees fit to give us a son and bless us, maybe they will believe it then."

Esti opened her mouth to complain, then shut it again. Saying that she didn't want to be hated was meaningless; no one wants to be hated. The Zerui were not bound, she was learning, by what they wanted. They were bound by what Eguzki wanted. And if Eguzki saw fit to give her a son, then she would have a son. And if Eguzki saw fit to give her a daughter, then she would be hated.

"I'm glad you like Sendoa. I guess I would have to talk to Iñaki... but I would be happy if the baby had a name that you approved of." Esti said the last part quickly, trying to wash away the mention of her brother, soon to be her anaia-emaita. Amaya wouldn't want to hear of him.

"Yes." Amaya withdrew into herself again, and pushed herself to her feet, away from Eesti. Esti, who was having the child of that no-good Iñaki. She didn't know of whom she disapproved more. Even if she didn't think they had any part in Xanti's death, hearing how Esti spoke of him made her feel old, and tired, and as though the Zerui were old and tired. And dying.

She had tried so hard to do her duty as Zeru's wife, even though she was the wrong sister. So hard. And yet... and yet she was being punished. She had failed. Amaya could not help blaming herself, and that was why she couldn't speak to Esti any longer.

"Come by for your wedding tunic later," she said, looking down at her daughter. "You can use the one I wore." She turned back to her own loom, with a brief nod, and tried not to look at the ropy tendons in the backs of her hands as she wove. Old.