I tentatively come back to the table, staring at Ligaya and Narra in turn.
‘We mean you no harm,’ Ligaya says, giving Biba a smile.
‘You’re both – touched?’ I ask, setting Biba down on my lap.
‘We prefer gifted, but yes,’ Narra confirms.
‘Like me?’ Biba turns to the others, her tears mostly over.
‘Can we see what you have?’ Morna asks, coaxing Biba to open her hand.
Biba looks to me for approval and I nod. She opens her palm and the seeds are there, sprouted, the little seedlings squashed but alive.
‘Now that’s lovely,’ Ligaya says.
There’s something in the gentle wonder of Ligaya’s voice that sets me off. I start crying, despite the fact it hurts like something unholy with my injuries.
Narra pats my back, making circles with her hand. ‘Oh, bless you. It’s been a lot to carry, hasn’t it?’
I nod, sobbing and heaving, almost unable to breathe, only to let everything out.
‘Mama, maybe they can help us,’ Biba says, trying to reassure me.
I bring her into my chest and hold her until the tears cease.
chapter eighteen
finlyr
As I break openthe savoury bun and let the steam pour out, I grudgingly admit that the day’s garden work was worth the exchange. Isagani and I sit at the communal dining bench, rubbing the smalls of our backs, occasionally sighing contentedly. As the day has gone on, more of the guests have risen from their beds, some grabbing a bun on their way out for later, others sipping tea and easing silently into their days. The pastries and tea had been laid out but there was no sign of the innkeeper or her apprentice.
The door opens and we’re distracted by the wall of noise and smells that waft in from Umasa. Already I have gotten used to feeling as if the inn is sealed against the outside world. Our hosts have returned, along with new arrivals: two women and a child. One of them is clearly at ease with Narra and Ligaya, leaning into the later, pushing back her hair and revealing the blue ribbon woven near the nape of her neck. The other looks apprehensive and is a little older than me, with a hardy face and full figure. A working woman, some sort of labourer. She has dressed tastefully, with clothes that aren’t showy, but well made, and she’s tied her ribbon into a bow to keep her hair from her face. Her outfit fits her with little flourishes, as though tailored for her rather than handmade by another and traded for. The child is about six or seven, glittering keen eyes, with a cascade of dark wavy hair, similarly adorned like her mother’s, and red cheeks.
Isagani and I share a look, and they raise their eyebrows.
Narra and Ligaya usher them into the kitchen but the latch doesn’t quite catch, and it creaks ajar.
I stand, stretching and yawning. ‘Come on, squirt.’ I pat Isagani on the back and we make our way across the dining room. The other few guests’ glance at us languidly, as they had when the new arrivals were ushered in. Lots of coming and going at the moment.
I head towards the staircase to the rooms, swerving at the last minute to an alcove behind them, right beside the kitchen. Isagani crouches by me and we listen to the scrape of furniture, watching through the sliver in the door frame. A scrape of furniture and the women sit down.
‘Parched?’ Ligaya asks and I recognise a pitcher of that ghastly purple liquid: her truth binder.
The woman and girl take a mug each and sip.
‘This is your inn?’ the woman asks, eyes dark and wild as they rove over every surface.
‘Yes, and you and Biba are welcome to stay here,’ Narra says, her voice low and gentle. ‘Bed and board for whatever errands you can help with.’
I furrow my brow. Where are they going to put them: the attic? That, or we’re doubling up on bunks because we’re fully occupied here from what Narra said.
‘Got any mending?’ The woman laughs, something deep that quickly turns to hiccuping sobs.
‘Oh, Ris,’ Ligaya says, moving the pitcher away and taking the woman’s hand.
‘Things have been hard for you. But you’re among friends now, and like-minded folk,’ the other visitor, the one familiar with Ligaya, pipes up.
‘Thank you, Morna,’ Ris says, smiling at the child, Biba.
