up to be like him?â
âYech. A crowing hen! Cock-a-doodle-doo!â Beneda spread her right hand above her head like a comb and flapped the left arm like a wing.
âThatâs what I thought. Since Myraâs thinking of it, though, Morgotâs got her on all kinds of dietary supplements.â She twiddled her fingers, then stretched, like a cat. âMyra will do what she wants, regardless.â
Beneda put down the book she had been pretending to study and said, âStavvy, talking about chickens reminded me. Mom asked me to go to market to pick up some eggs for the house.â
âGo ahead,â Stavia said idly. âIâll wait for you here.â
âCome on with me.â
âI donât want to. You go on. You always get to talking and take an hour when it should only take ten minutes. If I wait for you here, I wonât be impatient.â
âWhat will you do here by yourself?â
âRead.â She looked at the scattered books around them. âPreconvulsion societies. Iâll read your anthropology book, then quiz you on it.â
âItâs dull. All about islands and tropical places and Laplanders.â
âWhat are Laplanders?â
âYou want to read it, you find out.â Beneda stood up and brushed herself off. âIâll be back.â
She went off, looking not too displeased to be going alone. Beneda liked to talk to people in the market and Stavia didnât. But then Benedaâs mother wasnât on the Council and Staviaâs was. Beneda could say anything that came into her headâand usually didâand no one thought anything of it, but if Stavia said, âIt looks like rain,â everyone wondered if it had significance because of something Morgot had said at home. As though Morgot ever said anything at home! She was as closemouthed as a vinegar shaker.
Left behind, Stavia picked up the red book Beneda had been reading. Preconvulsion societies. Tropical island tribes. Tribes based on trade. Migratory tribesâthe Laplanders.
Stavia read, entering the world of the Laplanders in their padded coats and tall boots (not unlike the winter wear in Womenâs Country), picking the most docile reindeer to breed so they could lead their great herds from pasture to pasture without losing them. She could almost smell the huge rivers of animals moving north and south with the seasons, almost hear the lowing of the beasts,feel the bite of the snow, the weight of felted coats and boots, the tug of the leashed bull being led along so that all that river of beasts would follow. She lost herself in the words, becoming one of the migrants, feeling itâ¦.
When Beneda came back, Stavia was sitting on the wall, the book open in her lap, tears running down her face.
âStavvy! What happened?â
âReindeer,â she said, half strangled by her own teary laughter,
âWhat do you mean âreindeerâ?â
âJust⦠we donât have them anymore.â
Benedaâs mouth dropped open. âStavvy, honestly. Thereâs lots of things we donât have anymore. We donât have⦠clothes-drying machines and mechanical transportation and furnaces that heat your whole house, and cotton and silk and⦠and cows and horses and⦠and all kinds of other animals and birds andâoh, lots of things.â
âI miss them.â
âYouâve never
had
them!â
âYes, but I know about them. That makes it different.â
âYouâre weird.â Beneda threw her arms around Stavia and squeezed tight, half laughing. âI love you best, Stavvy, because youâre weird! Will you always be my best friend?â
Stavia laughed at herself, drying her eyes on the hem of her shirt. âIâll always be your best friend, Beneda. Forever. And I know Iâm weird. Thatâs what Morgot says, too.â
âI wish we were sisters.â
âWhy? Sisters