Beluga Fay (Dragon Bone Hill) Read Online Free

that was chipping loose in places. At one point, after coming out of the maze of machinery—which took a good long while to make his way through, partly from a lack of light and partly from the sheer complexity of passages between the rusting hulk—the escapee had nearly taken a header down a withered and decayed stairway leading to a basement apartment, but righting himself managed to bump and slither his way down.
    There was a series of movements and muffled disagreements from inside. An old woman appeared with a twig broom screaming something in what he took to be Tagolam, and she began smacking him on the back as he ran down the street. After chasing him about half a block, eliciting cheers and catcalls as they went, the old woman gave up, spat in his general direction, and turned back, cackling with satisfying pride. What a younger woman would never have attempted she did without fear, for two reasons: the first was age bestowed a general social immunity; and two, if the stranger had turned on her, this would have ended the daily contention with aching bones and bad teeth. Mersa, or mother as her son and daughter-in-law referred to her, did not think she had much longer anyway.
    One of the old woman’s few remaining back molars had become infected. The local apothecary, a nasty, filthy, sodden man of not fewer years than she, had drained the infection a few times, but it didn’t seem to help. All it would take is for the poison to get into her blood or bones and that would be it. So chasing another derelict down the street did not seem such a great sacrifice if they’d turned on her. This one hadn’t, but it might have been a kindness if that man had shown some spine. Mersa knew what waited for her now. That would be bad enough, but her daughter-in-law would believe it necessary to nurse Mersa through the last illness—normally this meant keeping the old alive as long as possible, no matter the shame and suffering this brought and the emotional trauma it caused the family.
    The end goal of the woman in the marriage was only to fulfill the obligation as the wife of Mersa’s first son. There was no love-loss between the two. Life with Henny and she had always been that of two cats in a bag. Mersa knew, before the marriage, she would become a harridan, that she’d be unfaithful as well. The problem with Karter, however, had always been that he led with his cock, and Henny had been a beautiful slattern that could and would fuck in any way her son wanted. However, Karter had never been much in bed. Even if he had, Mersa was certain, Henny was too beautiful to be left alone by men, and the woman would have no compunction about turning their lust into profit and a satisfaction for her own hunger.
    There was an upside for the family here—in the beginning. More food and money came in than Mersa thought reasonable. When she understood what was happening, Mersa made certain the woman had taken precautions so that the children were Karter’s. One obviously wasn’t his, but the old woman had made her daughter-in-law take care of that. It was all a great tragedy as far as her Karter was concerned, but this passed quickly when Henny found herself pregnant shortly thereafter. Mersa loved Karter desperately, as mothers tend to love their first-born, but the man was the dumbest thing she’d seen. This incident was years ago, and time had not been kind to Henny. Men no longer came sniffing after her quim. This left the woman outrageously randy—hardly giving Karter a moment’s peace—and bitter for the loss of income. As a result, Henny’s spleen was taken out on Karter and her two daughters.
    Now Mersa wanted it over, but Henny could not allow that, out of a sense of responsibility that had less to do with love than appearances. The reality of life waiting back in the small two-room apartment was not a kind thing, but it was all she had. The cackle was one of the few joys she had left, and Mersa milked this for all it was