Children of Bast Read Online Free PDF Page A

Thain’s face looked like snow. Then he gave a half-hearted grin and backed further away.
    “You ain’t worth it, Gutter Queen.” He looked at me. “We’ll meet again, Black Tom. Enjoy life while you have it, and Adele.”
    “You’re scum,” Adele yelled at him, and when he jumped down and ran off, laughing, she screamed after him, “Kuss ummak!”
    I asked, “What does that mean?”
    “What does what mean?” she snapped at me, still staring in Thain’s direction.
    “What you said. Kuss? I don’t remember the rest.”
    Without looking at me, she said, “Kuss ummak? You don’t wanna know. It’s the worst thing anyone can say to another. You’ll learn soon enough. It’s an insult to his mother.” She snorted, and then looked at me. “His buddy, Raeed, is even worse. Stay clear of them until you get more experience, and even then be very careful. They’re dirty fighters and they’ll gang up on you.” She smiled and nuzzled my chin. “Don’t wanna lose someone as beautiful as you.” She rubbed my face with hers, and you guessed it, I let loose another shower.
    “Will you quit that?” She wrinkled her nose and backed away.
    “Sorry, but you do something to me.”
    “Okay, I’ll stop.” She grinned.
    “Please don’t. I’ll get a hold of myself.”
    “See that you do.” She looked at the dumpster. “Okay, you had a question: What is this thing we’re sitting on? It’s called a dumpster. Bašar use them to throw out stuff they don’t want. They’re so pathetic. They throw the best stuff out. None of us can figure why they’d want to part with all this wonderful food, but, hey, ours is to benefit, theirs to weep.”
    “Of course, I know what dumpsters are now, Chubby, but then I was astounded by their size. Big as houses! And stink. I’d never smelled anything so bad, but Adele was right at home
    “I’ve never heard them called bašar before. I love it,” I said as we sat on the edge and looked around at all the stuff below us.
    “It comes from our oldest language,” Adele said. “You do know our language, don’t you?”
    “Sure. I’m talking to you, right? Our maama taught us, but she wasn’t with it all the time.”
    “Not with it? What’s that mean?”
    “Our maama drank a lot. Nibiit.”
    “Two questions: what’s with our maama and why’d she drink nibiit? Bašar drink nibiit, not amai.”
    “I have a sister. It’s a long story, but Maama found nibiit at the seminary and got hooked. So, she wasn’t awake enough to teach us much of anything. Besides, as house amai we forgot a lot because we didn’t have to talk a lot. Our captors gave us everything we needed, so talking to Maama wasn’t all that necessary.”
    “Yeah, I know a lot about that. I noticed your talk was broken; now I know why. Looks like I’ll have to be your maama now.” She smiled.
    “Uh, no. That isn’t a good idea. Know what I mean?”
    “Without question.” She smiled and nuzzled me again.
    “And why bašar?”
    “I really don’t know. I just know it’s from the old language. We call them bašar sometimes, but that’s more like showing something that belongs to them. Like food. We could say bašar food. It’d mean it’s their food. Kilaab food would be for kalb, and so forth. See?”
    “Yeah. Gee you’re smart.”
    “I know,” she said, and I caught that she was serious.
    I looked into the dumpster and found myself transfixed by what I saw. Mounds of bags filled with things I couldn’t identify. Boxes filled with garbage. Loose gobs of vegetables; meat and fish that had gone to the dark side, and what I called sludge covered the whole thing like a sauce.
    “Follow me,” Adele hollered. She hopped down into a mound of something green and limp. It was lettuce. I’d watched Harriett fix it, tasted it once and threw up. I dropped down beside her.
    “You know I don’t know your name,” I said.
    “Adele. That’s the name I gave myself. Oh, look.” She jumped to the right and