"Justine Larbalestier - Strange Horizons - The Cruel Brother" - читать интересную книгу автора (Larbalestier Justine)

The Cruel Brother
By Justine Larbalestier

22 October 2001


O, you must ask my father dear,
With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay;
And the mother, too, that did me bear.
As the primrose spreads so sweetly.
--"The Cruel Brother," Child Ballad #11



For all that the witch was dead, and her fortune now their own, they were a
long time leaving the forest. Years and years passed between the moment they
first saw her glistening home and their return to kith and kin. By then, the two
could hardly get through a day without each other close by. They loved each
other as brother and sister should, and much more besides.


As always, Greta was the first to understand: in the world outside the forest, the
warmth between Hans and her, the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest,
would not do. They were no longer children. They were people in the world. She
must be wed, and her brother too, but not together, not sharing the same
marriage bed.


They came back to their village, Hans leading his sister on her milk-white mare,
seven donkeys heavy-laden with a witch's fortune. Their foreign mother was still
dead, though Greta had half hoped that was a dream. Their father and his
no-longer-new wife made room for them and for the strangeness that clung to
their skin; there was more than enough to feed them all now.


Greta set about trying to wean Hans from her. She wept more than a little,
explained to Hans, and told him no in every way she could as he ran his fingers
through her hair and whispered please and yes and why don't we? "Nobody
understands the world the way we two do. Nobody knows."


Greta said, "No, no, no, no, no." But her nos grew quieter until they slid to the
back of her throat and tumbled her into the hay with him, tangling limbs, kissing
fingers and toes.


Greta adjusted her clothes, and kissed his mouth a few last times. "We can't be
at it like this."