Bannerless (The Bannerless Saga 1)

Enid nodded. She’d heard this before; they all heard it growing up. But this recitation had the air of ritual to it.

“You understand that this is an honor, yes? Children are precious, and this means you are willing to earn the right to bear a child of your own someday, and not leave it to chance.”

“To prove that I can care for one.”

“Yes. It’s a privilege, not a right. Understand?”

“I understand.”

“I know you do,” Peri said, and kissed her forehead.

Back out on the clinic’s porch, she looked out at people working to clean up roads and salvage what they could from the gardens and fruit trees surrounding the building and felt herself even more at a loss than usual. She had an implant. What did she do now?

“Is that Enid?”

Auntie Kath was back at her usual spot, sitting in a rocking chair on the clinic porch, taking in the world as it passed by. Kath couldn’t see, but Enid was pretty sure she knew everyone in town by their footsteps on the wooden boards, maybe even by the way they breathed. She seemed to have emerged from the cellar exactly the same, none the worse for wear.

“Yes, ma’am.” Enid came over to sit next to the chair. Auntie Kath always had time for her.

“You sound sad.”

“I started bleeding last night.”

“That’s a big deal,” Auntie Kath said.

“I guess so.”

“So you’re here for your first implant, is that it? There’s nothing to be scared of.”

Why did people keep saying that? She knew that. She started to rub that arm and its fresh tiny wound again, then clasped her hands tight to keep from fidgeting. “I know. I just thought . . . it would happen later. Or something.”

She chuckled. “Isn’t that always the way?”

/> Early afternoon, sun finally came through the clouds, lighting the town gold. The puddles of water and dripping trees gleamed. For a moment, the scene looked alien.

Enid sighed. “Does it ever get easier?”

“Does what get easier?”

“Everything,” Enid said. That was the kind of answer that made the adults chuckle at her.

But Auntie Kath didn’t laugh. She looked over that same golden scene, damp and newly born from the storm, as if she could really see it. Maybe the light felt different to her.

Her voice stretched as if speaking brought pain, she finally said, “Oh, yes, it’s so much easier. You’ll never know how hard it was.”

Auntie Kath was the last one who remembered.

Enid had a million questions, but she didn’t press. Auntie Kath could usually be persuaded to tell stories from before the Fall, about what things had been like then, about what had changed, all the work they’d done to get from there to here and how many times they were sure they wouldn’t make it. But right now she sounded breakable. More breakable than the blind old woman usually did. She said goodbye to Auntie Kath, who squeezed her hand and waved her off and told her to keep her chin up.

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Dak stayed at Haven longer than he’d intended. When market day ended, he’d meant to head north to the next town, the next set of markets. He traveled the Coast Road, timing his arrival with various midsummer markets and festivals, trading music for a bed and food. He seemed to do well at it, too. He rarely stayed longer than a few days in one place. But he stayed in Haven for over a week, for her. She thought she’d burst. She spent every moment she could with him, hardly any at home, until Peri said, “Are you ready to move out, then?”

“What? No,” she said. But maybe she could see about asking Dak to move in . . .

“Then maybe get some of your chores done before you run off today, hmm?”

Enid had been letting things slide. She hadn’t thought anyone noticed. But no, everyone had noticed. Tomas was the next person to stop her.