The Women Who Marry Ghosts

The Escape

Uperi knew she'd only have a few days. She already knew what essentials she was taking and what she would leave behind to incriminate Apo's brother. It would be easy to make it look like there was a struggle. The elders would love spinning that story. At least we know his poor spirit is finally, truly appeased, the villagers would whisper. This is what happens when you summon ancestors and make unnecessary demands of the spirits, they would warn their children. Let Uperi be a lesson to you.

The hardest was pretending. She smiled at her friends, ground meal in the evenings, and checked on her cattle. Every morning, like always, she shrugged the water jug's straps over her shoulders. Besides, if I'm gone, they will have no reason to hurt him, she thought as she began her trek. She needed to believe that. More than anything. I'm doing this for him. No, that wasn't right. For both of us. That wasn't right, either. For all three of us.

Sometimes, the rat's light paws tripped over her shoulders. Why not ask him? Give him the choice. It's what you would want, was the rat's convincing argument, its soft tongue flickering in her ear. But she knew what he would choose. He liked his wives, his cattle, feasting with his people on new moons, and she didn't blame him. He would defer to the elders and was content to dissemble when it came to the spirits and ancestors. How could she ask him leave everything, when she herself didn't know what laid beyond the woman's mountain? There was more to it, she knew. Two new lives existed because of him, and one was more vulnerable than the other. Where Uperi was going, no apprentices would spy and no elders would conspire. As strange as it was, she and her baby would be safer than his and Swesor's.

The walk to fresh water seemed longer. It was probably because she was deliberating who the elders would make her sacrifice – Apo or her child. It would be one of them. Of that there could be no doubt. The thought of putting a blade to either was more than she could stomach. She shook her head, as if that could rid her of the rising nausea.

She had been lost in her thoughts so she didn't notice Mehter until the older woman fell in step beside her. Uperi's throat tightened. The words did that now. Instead of filling her mouth, hammering on her teeth, they just settled in her throat and choked her. Is this how Apo has always felt?

"Your belly is growing," Mehter said when Uperi remained silent.

She had been doing her best to ignore her pregnancy. Whenever she touched her stomach, she grimaced. There was nothing to be done for it, especially not with the entire village's eyes on her.

"Your husband must be thrilled." Not as thrilled as yours.

"We are pleased," she said.

"Swesor grows each day, too. She complains of swollen feet and aching knees, but I think she's just trying to avoid making beer." Uperi shot her a look. It was unkind of Mehter to say so, though probably true. It would have been so easy to slip back into their friendship, like a welcome embrace. She wanted to take the weight of truth from her shoulders. But to do so would remove a piece of herself, and she wasn't as determined as Kwos. Uperi knew what Mehter was offering. Come back, Mehter meant.

"I could make her a salve," Uperi offered. I want to but I can't.

Mehter shook her head.

"I have already made it for her." Uperi said nothing. "Apo says he has not seen you, even during cattle rotations." Uperi stiffened. Mehter imagined she was granting her a small concession by mentioning Apo. A slight surrender. She imagined she was wearing Uperi down.

Come back to us.

"I have been busy."

No.