Nerilka's Story by Anne McCaffrey Read Free Book Online Page B

from me. He thanked me profusely enough, but plainly had other tasks pending.
    It was hard to wish to help, to be capable of offering capable help, and not find a market for it, I thought as I plodded back across the night-dark yard. There were lights on in my father’s quarters and in what had been my mother’s. But no one was at the window, spying on unidentifiable flaunters of stupid rules.
    I looked over my shoulder at the despicable internment camp and saw the guards on their rounds between the glowbasket standards. Was that where my soup and syrup would go? If that was its destination, my day had been profitable. With my spirits lifted, I continued back to the Hold.

 
    Chapter VI
     
    3.16.43
     
     
     
    C AMPEN FOUND ME the next morning preparing to make more soup. “So this is where you are! Anella is looking for you.”
    “She’s been looking for a Lady Nalka, and there is no one by that name in the Hold.”
    Campen snorted with disgust. “You know perfectly well she means you.”
    “Then she should summon me by name. I’ll not go otherwise.”
    “In the meantime, she’s making life very difficult for our sisters, and they miss our mother enough without having to put up with her carpings.”
    I was instantly repentant. In my own misery and guilt, I had forgotten that Lilla and Nia needed my presence and support.
    “She must have new gowns, suitable to her position. Your needlework is the best.”
    “Kista was the best needlewoman among us,” I told him angrily. “And Merin sewed the straightest seam. But I’ll go.”
    It was not a pleasant interview, and I knew that my behavior could be faulted on several counts. To add insult to injury, Anella was younger than I by several Turns, and keenly aware of that and of my greater height. But, knowing that I had deliberately disregarded her summonses, I took the tongue-lashing in silence, and took some consolation in the fact that she had to crane her neck at an awkward angle to berate me. She looked like a wherry hen, strutting about in a heavy dressing gown far too ornate to suit her thin body and falling off her bottle-necked shoulders so that she had to jerk it frequently back into place. She lacked dignity, experience, sense, and humor.
    “So how do you account for your absence these past two days? Where have you been? For if you’ve been sneaking off to meet some holder—”
    At that accusation I decided I had had enough of her rantings. “I have been preparing restorative soups and cough syrups, and checking our medicinal supplies in case they should be needed.” She flushed at my reminder of the present crisis. “The pharmacy has been my responsibility in this Hold.”
    “Why wasn’t I told that was where you were? Your father—” She abruptly closed her lips.
    “My father would not have known my especial duties. It was my mother’s place to order such domestic affairs.”
    She gave me a searching glance, but I had kept my voice bland and chosen my words carefully.
    “No one around here tells me anything I need to know,” she complained. “If your name is not Nalka, what is it?”
    “Nerilka.”
    “Close enough. Why did you not come at my bidding?” She grew angry again.
    “I was not told.”
    “But they knew you were the one I wanted to see!”
    “The entire Hold is still distracted by grief and anxiety.”
    She clamped her lips into a thin line, but what she wished to say was sparking out of her eyes, which were beginning once again to protrude with her attempts to control her agitations. She swished off to the window and stood looking out, twitching the gown back up her shoulders several times. Abruptly she whirled back.
    “Your mother had everything so well organized in this Hold that I’m sure she had drapery stores and patterns. You may come with me to choose suitable lengths for my new wardrobe.”
    “Aunt Sira is in charge of Weaving.”
    “I don’t need the Weaving Aunt. I need your sewing skills. You have those as