by Moira Young
As they all turn back to their meals an quiet chat, I hold my hand out to Creed. His eyes still hold a knife to my throat. Then he’s smilin an pullin me to him fer a quick one-armed hug, sayin, Sorry, you know I git assy sometimes. Thanks fer the stitches. I hear what you say about Molly.
An I wonder if I imagined that look in his eyes.
NIGHT SEVEN
IT’S THE TIME OF YEAR WHEN THE DARK CROWDS THE LIGHT earlier an earlier each day.
I nab Slim on his own the moment I can. When d’you think’s the blood moon? I says.
I don’t think, he says, I know. He looks at the moon, fatter than last night. Includin this one, he says, seven nights.
Could be eight though, I says. Or nine. You cain’t say fer certain.
I bin livin my life by that lady’s wax an wane goin on fifty year, he says. I know her faces an if I say it’s seven, it’s seven. Fer certain. He peers at me closely. What’s the fret about?
Nuthin, I says.
Tommo heads off to sit first watch, high atop Painted Rock. The rest of us gather around the fire. Me, to wait belly-tight with nerves. Fer the time to turn till I can leave to meet Jack at Irontree. No point goin early. He never appears before the time. I bin early to meet points more’n once an had to kick my heels while I waited fer him to show.
We settle in fer the evenin. With knees creakin, Slim grunts hisself into his slingchair to smoke a thoughtful pipe. Ash an Molly roll hemp twine fer bowstrings. Nero tucks in my coat fer a snooze while I dry my damp boots by the fire.
The waters might look calm, but I can feel it. Runnin jest below the surface. The sour current of dissent. Another mistake by me an it’ll rise agin. I don’t hold ’em to blame. I’d feel jest the same in their place.
We gotta hold together. Hold fast. I look at them, my family, my friends. The dance of flames chases shadows on their faces. Their familiar, unknown faces. This is old, what we do, in this old place here. It runs in the blood of time. People by a fire. With dark closin in all around them. DeMalo’s words circle an tighten my thoughts.
If you keep on, more people will die. Maybe even people you care about. Weigh your chances.
Weigh our chances. I cain’t git my thoughts straight. But I must. Right away. Seven nights. I need to talk to Jack. I try not to check the sky too often. Try not to show how antsy I am.
Lugh an me sit close together on a log, thigh to thigh. He nudges me. Got a meet tonight, huh? he whispers. I look at him. You keep checkin the sky, he says.
They all know I git regular intel about DeMalo an the Tonton an what’s goin on in New Eden. They know I cain’t say who or where they are. They think I meet with Bram’s old network. The little gang of contacts, informants an insiders that he managed to set up before he died that day on the road to Resurrection. Jack runs them now. He’s information. I’m action. Together we plan. I don’t ever meet nobody but him.
Creed’s bin mendin this little hand squeezebox that Slim got from Bobby French, a trader pal of his. Now, he tries it out fer the first time. Sweet melancholy wheezes from its cracked leather lungs.
Good gawd, it works, says Ash. Where’d you learn to play?
Travellin show, he says. Squeezebox, tightrope, fire jugglin … y’know, the usual.
Ash looks at him askance. Tall tale or truth, with Creed it’s sometimes hard to know. You was never a showman, she says.
You think I tell you everythin? he says.
Huh. Well, she says, it would explain a lot.
He noodles quietly on the squeezebox while a skin of Molly’s latest brew gits passed around. Stink currant rum this time, but it’s always the same. Brain-killer hooch with a kick like white pain. I give it a miss. I need a clear head.
Emmi comes to sprawl across our laps. She buries her nose in Lugh’s shirt. I know jest how he smells to her. Safe. Home.
An it strikes me. We ain’t ever bin like we are at this moment. Never. I mean, the three of us takin comfert from each other’s nearness an company. It was always me an Lugh, with Em on the outside. Fer the very first time, this feels like brother an sisters together. Lugh smiles at me over Em’s head. I smile back. Tonight he seems lighter somehow. He seems … lifted.
I cain’t bear to think of sendin Emmi to Auriel. Of bein without her. But I must. It’s the only way to keep her safe. I’ll speak to Lugh in the mornin.
As the stars shoot the sky, Creed idles their way on the squeezebox. Its ancient sighs fade the echo of harsh words. Smooth balm over anger. Drift our troubled day to the night.
I ain’t ever known a star season like this one. Molly watches ’em, shakin her head in amazement. So many shooters, she says. If they keep on at this rate, there won’t be none left.
Mercy’s bin lookin at Lugh. Really starin, like she cain’t help herself. It’s makin him flushed an shifty. At last she says, It’s uncanny how like her you are. Your eyes, they’re just the same. The face, the smile, even how you turn your head.
She’s right. Lugh’s the spit of Ma. He shrugs, but you can tell he’s pleased. Time creeps. My stummick’s in knots. Hurry on, hurry on, I need to see Jack.
Ash stands an stretches mightily. My watch, she says. Better go relieve Tommo. None too gently, she nudges Slim with her boot. Hey, sleepin beauty, don’t you be late fer me.
He cracks open his good eye. Fret ye not, he says.
On silent feet, bow in hand, Ash heads into the shadows.
Emmi says, What’s that tune, Creed?
No idea, he says. Probly the last song this old thing played. It’s like it’s bin waitin. It ain’t quite ready to come, but it will. In its own time, it’ll come. He keeps playin softly an, sure enough, before long, the song shows itself. It’s slow. Spare. Worn an warm from its passage down the ages. Ah, says Creed.
My throat thickens as I reckanize it. As it sounds in my heart. The tune settles. It waits. Fer the right voice to claim it. It waits. Fer Molly. An she sings.
Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell
Angus is here with dreams to sell.
Memory slashes me. Ma, singin me an Lugh to sleep. The sun scent of her skin. Her fingers smoothin my hair. It’s bin ten year. But this music cuts deep. To the place where the wounds never heal. Lugh’s arm circles my shoulders. He hugs me close.
Hush now, my baby, an sleep without fear
Dream Angus will bring you a dream, my dear.
The song halts from Molly, raggedly tender. An I know, without knowin it, that she sang this to Gracie. Her child with Jack, fever-dead after five months of life. Em leaves us, goes around the fire an lays down with her head in Molly’s lap. Music at Silverlake died with Ma. Not once was there a lullaby fer Emmi.
Molly sings while Creed plays. There’s a truce, even a smile in their eyes fer each other.
One more note, I’ll be undone. An at last it’s time fer me to go. I give Lugh’s hand a squeeze. Then I slip away, Nero still huddled inside my coat. Tracker rises from his spot at Mercy’s feet. Slim raises his pipe to my goin. Creed nods. Molly smiles. They’re all used to my night-time junkets by now.
I scoop up my quiver an bow. I leave the warm an the light an my folk an Ma’s song. With Tracker at my side, I head fer the night-deep woods.
I set Nero to fly an we head north. Irontree, where Jack changed our meet to, is a good two leagues from here.
I pause, jest a moment. I give our night-time signal. A two-note widowbird shiver. So our lookout knows who’s on the move in the woods below. Answer floats down from the top of Painted Rock. It’s Ash. She’s took over the watch from Tommo. He’ll be on his way down to the comferts of camp.
Saba, wait up! It’s Lugh, hurryin after me, dodgin a path through the trees.
With a snap of impatience, I stop. What? I says.
I jest wanted to—that song, he says. I couldn’t stay. It’s too much.
I know, I says. I bin dreamin about her lately. About Ma.
It’s strange, he says, we bin without her fer so long an you th
ink yer okay an you are, but then Molly starts singin an—all these feelins an memories came rushin outta nowhere an I was right back there. That last time she sang to us. Lugh lets out a shaky breath. It hurts, he says, but … I felt like she was with us fer a moment.
She was, I says. Listen … Lugh, I gotta go, I—
I know, but I thought maybe I could … walk with you a ways? He looks at me, uncertain. Like I might not welcome the offer.
Oh, my poor heart. Like Molly’s song warn’t enough fer one night. Here’s Lugh takin a step towards me. I bin waitin fer this since the day the Tonton took him from me. Long months ago.
I’d like that, I says. More than anythin I would love that, but … Lugh, I got some hard thinkin to do. I really appreciate you speakin fer me like you did, but you an me both know I done bad work today at the bridge. They’re right. It ain’t good enough. I gotta do better, a lot better, startin right now. I got some … concerns that I—
We could talk, he says. Maybe I could help. You an me, we always bin able to figger things out together.
I could walk with you a ways. We could talk.
That he should even hafta say it. My very blood quickens to Lugh. To tell him everythin, anythin … or not hafta tell him becuz he’d already know.
I wish we could, I says. But this is somethin I gotta work out on my own. I do wanna go fer that walk though. Soon.
You bet, he says. I’m here any time. Always here.
I turn to go, then remember. I gotta talk to you about Em, I says. I wanna send her back to Auriel at the Snake. It’s wrong to have her here. A fight like this ain’t no place fer a kid. If somethin was to happen to her, I—I cain’t even think of it. Or if somethin was to happen to us. We’d wanna know she’d be okay.
I won’t have it, he says. Even if I would, I sure as hell wouldn’t send her to Auriel Tai. We’re family, Saba. We’ve fought hard to stay together an we will, no matter what. She does need to step up, though. One minute she’s smart an tough an you think you can rely on her an the next, she’s actin like some dizzy little kid. I’ll speak to her.
But I—
We ain’t gonna argue this, he says.
I gotta go, I says.
As I move away, he takes hold of my arm, sayin, Hang on a sec, I— He almost but don’t meet my eyes as he says, I need to … I want to apologize to you. Fer the way I bin actin since you saved me from Freedom Fields. Turnin away from you. Blamin you fer everythin. Bein so angry. The thing is, after Ma died, I only had one thing to do an that was pertect my sisters. Make sure you survive. I had to be the front line. Stand in front of you an take the shot, like with Pa.
You know we don’t talk about that, I says.
Night-time in the hut. In the months jest after. Pa blind drunk an ragin his grief. At us. At hisself. Why should we live when she was dead? Where’s my gun? My knife? Where’d you hide ’em this time? Don’t lie to me, son, don’t make me beat it from you.
When I do stupid things, like try an race you to the bridge? It’s becuz I need to git there first, says Lugh. Front line, you see? It’s all I know. But when I got took, you managed fine without me. You an Emmi both. You grew stronger. Smarter. An I’m proud of you. But I bin feelin, I dunno … useless. But no more. No more, I swear. Today changed everythin.
An I know the moment it happened, I says. There at the bridge, when I was holdin on so tight to you. I bin there myself, Lugh, I know that moment. When death leans in to kiss you, to take you, when it’s so close you can smell its breath. An you say no. No, you sonofabitch, you will not have me this time. An you want life so bad an you pull yerself back into it an suddenly everythin’s so clear.
He’s starin at me an I realize I got my fingers diggin into his arms as I speak, like some crazy person. You got it, he says. That’s it ezzackly. Yer th’only one who’d know how to say it.
Saba? It’s Tommo. He’s standin not ten foot away, among the trees. Can I talk to you?
Not now Tommo, I says.
But I only—
Later, okay? Lugh turns on him, impatient.
There’s a moment’s pause. You cain’t read his face in the shadow of the trees. Sorry, he says. Then he’s gone.
He’s stuck on you, says Lugh. You took his hand today. He’ll take that as encouragement.
We ain’t talkin about him, I says. We’re talkin about you.
Yeah, well … today made me realize … He shakes his head. I wish I was good with words, he says. I realized I want so much, Saba. The sky above my head an the sun an the stars an … I wanna feel the earth beneath my feet, in my hands. It’s so little but it’s so much, y’know, it’s … it’s everythin. An yer everythin to me. You an Emmi. You gotta know that.
He pulls me into his arms an we hold fast to each other.
Tears heat my eyes. I bin missin you so much, I says, you got no idea. I’m sorry I hurt you, Lugh. I never meant to. I bin selfish an stubborn. Not jest about Jack, but—
He’s gone, that’s all finished, he says. It’s gonna be okay, Saba. You an me, we’re as we should be. We’re us agin.
Some good came outta this day after all, I says.
We got the power to git what we want, he says. One day soon, we’ll have a piece of this good land fer ourselfs. Fer the first time, we’ll live a life that’s worth somethin. Jest like we always dreamed. An we won’t be shackled by the past no more. Don’t worry about Em. We’ll keep her safe.
I give him a last hard squeeze. I really do gotta go, I says. I start to walk backwards, away from him. See you, I says.
If I don’t see you first, he says.
Such a tired old clunker. But it makes us smile every time. I leave him there in the trees, bathed in moonlight. When I take a last look over my shoulder, he’s headed back towards camp.
My feet skim me through the woods. I’m all speed an starlight. Wolfdog an crow, my companions. An hope don’t jest whisper within me. Now it shouts loud to the night.
My brother has come back to me.
There ain’t no better outrider than a wolfdog. Tracker runs on ahead, then fans out an loops around behind me, over an over. We had a month of this, so he’s well-trained. Me, on secret night journeys to meet Jack. Tracker makin sure we don’t run into nobody we oughtn’t. Nero cruises above the treetops, keepin pace with me here on the ground.
That surge of joy speeds me on the first half league. I’m pure happiness. Lugh took the first step. He opened his arms to me. But as my thoughts creep back in, my feet start to slow.
It’s gonna be okay, Saba. You an me, we’re as we should be. We’re us agin.
I’m foolin myself. To be us would mean that the truth would flow between us like clear water. Jest as it used to. But now I measure it out in fearful drops. Even if I could tell him, even if I told Lugh every single one of my many secrets, until he knows that Jack’s alive an finds a way to accept him, we ain’t got no chance of bein us. Not even a new kinda us.
Lugh took aginst Jack from the off. I thought he’d be grateful to him. If it warn’t fer Jack, we’d of never reached Freedom Fields in time to save his life. Maev was the one who told me why. Said I was hopeless not to figger it out myself. The way Lugh sees it, Jack stole me from him while he was weak an helpless, prisoner of the Tonton. I’m sure that’s right. After all, twins ain’t like any other. Till the day the Tonton took him from Silverlake, Lugh an me together was bindweed.
Fer now Jack’s dead an must remain so. But if we win this fight, he’ll step back into life an it won’t jest be Lugh not overjoyed to see him, there’s Tommo an Ash an—this ain’t the time to think about all that.
If we win this fight. To win. In seven nights. Seven to the blood moon, if Slim’s right. An he is he is I know he is. A new plan. Fast. I gotta think of one, make one. Another blown bridge or road or checkpoint an DeMalo will do like he threatened.
You hit me again, I’ll hit you back tenfold.
If he unleashes his full power aginst us, we won’t survive. We’ll
be jest like the Hawks at Darktrees, butchered in the night as they slept. There, he was only gittin rid of a possible problem. They warn’t nowhere near New Eden an barely even a thorn in his side. His reach is long an bloody.
I’ll have your whole misstarred mob hunted down and killed. Wherever you run to. Your brother. Your sister. Weigh your chances.
I bin foolin myself. We’re all fools. Deluded to think we can beat him. We’re the few. The weak.
The few an the weak. Suddenly it hits me. It’s bin starin me in the face from the start. It’s only thanks to DeMalo that we’re still alive. This whole time—today at the bridge, an way back to Hopetown an Freedom Fields, the fight at Pine Top Hill, then Resurrection—we bin bold an reckless an oftentimes lucky. It ain’t that we didn’t fight hard. We did. We do. Sometimes we even fought smart. But we ain’t bin smart or lucky enough to keep us alive. When it came to the point, DeMalo pulled back from destroyin us. An it’s bin about me every time. Whatever it is that he wants from me … that’s what’s kept us alive.
I’ll guarantee everyone safe passage over the Waste, your friends and family.
An in return?
You.
Me. Marry him. Death ain’t so bad. You only do it once. Married to him, I’d die each day.
Nero’s bin dippin in an outta the trees round about. Almost like he’s keepin a eye on somethin. Now, a little ways ahead, Tracker’s caught a scent on the wind. He’s stopped dead. Stiff-legged. Head high. As I come up to him, I’m shruggin off my bow an nockin a arrow. The scrub pine crowds thick here. I cain’t see nuthin. I motion him to me an we slip behind a tree together. I tighten myself fer action.
There’s a sudden commotion. In a flurry of branches, three little mosstails crash from the woods. Huge eyes red in the night. They spring across our path, not twenny foot in front of us, with Nero chasin behind. That’s what he was on about.
