“Why won’t you leave me alone?” Haake whined. His voice was a thin, hoarse rasp, better suited to an animal than a man, and his throat sang with hot agony. “I’m dying anyway. Let me die.”
“Nonsense,” Jack replied. He turned his head to peer intently at Haake with his one good eye, and a ray of moonlight fell directly onto the milky blind one. It seemed to glow white hot in the dark.
“Fuck you.”
“I’ve had quite enough of that sort of talk, Mr. Haake. There will be no more of it. You are not dying, and you have work that must be done. You still want what I’ve promised you, don’t you?”
Haake opened his mouth to speak, intending to plead once again to be left alone, but the message seemed to get lost somewhere between his brain and his tongue. He sat there for a moment, glaring at the old man with his mouth hanging stupidly open. Hatred tried to well up inside him. It got a good start, but then it went out like a smothered flame. He was just too tired—too tired and too sick to stoke the fire.
“Now, let’s get down to it.” Jack rubbed his hands together, a man preparing for work. “First, you may not feel your best at the moment, but it isn’t the end of the world—or worlds—is it? Indeed, it could be so much worse. I believe that if you sit and think about it for just a moment, you’ll realize that it really isn’t all that bad. A simple head cold at worst. Nothing more. Isn’t that so?”
Haake stared out into the darkness between the trees. Now that he thought about it, he could think of quite a few times when he’d felt much worse than this, most involving the far side of cheap ale. In fact, his headache was already starting to recede, and the shivering was settling down. There still was an awful lot of sweat rolling down his sides, but that was probably just because of all the hiking he’d done over the last few days. He’d been following them, although now he couldn’t think why. He’d left the company of the wizard and that bitch Mona and all the rest because he didn’t want to endure their pity or take part in their crazy schemes. There was nowhere in the world he wanted to be less than Coalhaven. So why was he following them? He couldn’t quite remember. There must’ve been a reason.
He frowned, trying to recall the details, and as he did, the world around him came into sharper focus. Yes, he was feeling better. He relaxed against the trunk of the tree and stretched his legs out before him. Now that felt better, too.
“Excellent,” Jack went on. “I can see you’re right as rain. Now, very shortly, there will be a couple of men coming by looking for you.”
Haake sat up straight, panic washing through him like a tidal wave.
“No, no, Mr. Haake. I assure you, they don’t mean you any harm. They might be rather…uh…persuasive, shall we say? But they won’t hurt you. You are to go with them. You are to do what they tell you, Mr. Haake. Do you understand?”
“I don’t—“ Haake started to say, but then his mouth snapped shut, and he felt his head nodding slowly. It was easier that way, wasn’t it?
“Good man. So I’ll just be off now, and I’m certain we will be chatting again soon.”
And suddenly, Haake was alone in the forest. All was deathly still. Now and then, he heard the shrill cry of a bird or the soft rustle of the wind in the trees, but nothing else stirred.
First we make a ghost…of the man we love the most…
He watched dreamily as the sun came up over the mountains. It began with an almost reddish glow just beyond the horizon. It reminded him irresistibly of Jack’s little light—the one he kept hidden in the depths of his coat. Oh, yes it did.
He must have dozed for a moment, though he wasn’t aware of it happening, because suddenly the sun was halfway to its zenith, and there was something very sharp jabbing into his throat.
He looked up to find two hulking silhouettes standing over him, framed by the brilliant daylight. He couldn’t make out many details, but it was easy to tell they were Karikis from their size and the ridges that crowned their heads.
“Garrett?” he asked uncertainly, reaching up to his throat.
That was when he realized that one of the men was holding a spear, the razor sharp point of which was pressing into his Adam’s apple.
“Do not speak that name to us,” the one with the spear growled.
“Okay, I won’t.” Haake put down his hands. Part of his mind, a very small part, thought that he should be afraid of these two. At least, he should be uneasy about having a spear poised to put a hole through his neck. He felt neither. Why was that?
Because he told you they wouldn’t hurt you, a voice piped up inside his head. He couldn’t think who “he” would’ve been, though. He hadn’t spoken to anyone since leaving the others days ago, had he? He couldn’t remember very much of the last few days—only that he’d been sick, probably from sleeping out in the damp and cold, but he felt all right now. Not entirely himself, maybe, but well enough. Certainly, he was on the mend.
“Is he the one?” the other Karikis asked.
“Must be. Do you see anyone else out here?”
The first man shook his head.
“All right,” the spear carrier said. “Get up.” He pulled the tip of his weapon away, and Haake got unsteadily to his feet. He swayed a little as a wave of intense dizziness swept over him, then straightened, shook his head, and examined the newcomers.
They were dressed in traditional loose-fitting Karikis robes adorned with colorful feathers and small animal bones, their hoods thrown back on their shoulders. The spear carrier’s scales were a shiny bluish green, much like Garrett’s, but the other’s were a rich tan—the color of desert sands. Both studied him expressionlessly, at least as far as Haake could tell.
“You were looking for me?” he asked, wishing he didn’t sound as bewildered as he felt. His voice, normally high and reedy, quavered nervously.
Neither of them responded. They just went on staring at him with those cold reptilian eyes. Haake didn’t like those looks one bit.
They don’t mean you any harm.
“I’m Haake.” He held out his hand, but neither of them took it. It was just as well. Haake thought Karikis were just about the most repulsive creatures on God’s green earth. Probably devil spawned, the lot of them.
“You will come with us,” the one with the spear said shortly, and before he knew what was happening, each of the Karikis had gripped Haake under an arm and lifted him clean off his feet. They started walking through the trees with him between them, his legs dangling uselessly a foot off the ground. It was profoundly uncomfortable.
“I can walk,” he ventured a bit testily. One of the Karikis only grunted, and the two men hoisted him higher.
Time slipped away as they went. His captors were apparently taking a familiar path through the forest that was invisible to his eyes. He swayed back and forth in time with their strides, and the motion made him feel vaguely sick again. Or maybe that was just the lingering effects of his illness. No, that’s right, he was feeling better now, so it couldn’t be that.
…You’re right as rain…
It occurred to him, now and then, to protest this treatment, and to demand to know what the hell it was they wanted with him. But every time he opened his mouth to say something, he found himself distracted by some wondrous site in the woods around him—the caw of a bird…the wing of a butterfly…the dance of the leaves as they were carried away on the winds…
At last, the trees fell away, and Haake could see a cluster of the semi-spherical tents made of beaded tapestries that were home to the Karikis tribes. Before now, he’d only ever seen them from afar, and they’d always seemed barbaric to him. Why would anyone choose to live in such a flimsy thing? And of course, there were always a few who chose not to—those who left the tribes, like Garrett. Haake had seen them, pretending to live like humans in Coalhaven and Seven Skies. But they weren’t human; they were abominations.
Now, now, Mr. Haake, a voice chided inside his head. Some would say the same of you, wouldn’t they?
Wh
ose voice was that? He couldn’t remember, but it seemed terribly familiar.
Seeing the tents up close now, he was surprised at their intricacies. The tapestries were made of tiny reflective stones beaded together to depict beautiful landscapes or elaborate scenes. Triangular windows were cut in them here and there and covered in a fine netting that allowed both air and sunlight to filter in but kept out the insects.
All about him, cooking fires blazed, and the air was filled with the rich, aromatic smoke of roasting meat and vegetables. Haake’s stomach turned over. He wasn’t feeling very well.
Nonsense, a voice spoke inside his head. It’s just been a while since you’ve eaten. You should ask for some food.
His captors took him down a long row of tents, apparently oblivious to the gawkers around them. Karikis men and women, busy with the day’s preparations, paused to stare openly at him as they passed. One small child, a girl, Haake thought, and the only youngster he could see, peeked out at him from behind her mother’s leg.
At the end of the row, Haake was carried inside a small tent and dropped unceremoniously at the feet of the oldest Karikis he’d ever seen. The old man sat in a wooden rocking chair, his robe pulled tightly around his thin, wizened frame. Deep lines were etched into the faded scales of his face, providing the disquieting illusion that he was constructed from a child’s jigsaw puzzle.
“Here he is,” the one with the spear said tonelessly.
The old Karikis stared down at Haake. He said nothing.
“He was right where you said he’d be, Hichen,” the second added.
“Of course he was,” the first snapped, turning on his fellow. “When has the Hichen ever been wrong?”
“I intended no offense—”
“Enough,” the Hichen rumbled, and Haake could swear he felt his voice vibrating up through the very ground he lay on. “You have done your duty. Now go.”
The two men exchanged a glance, bowed reverentially, and left without another word, the tent flaps slapping closed behind them like the wings of a kitsper.
The Hichen went on staring down at Haake for another moment, and Haake stared back, unsure what to do. Lying there on the hard ground seemed the safest thing, and the world didn’t appear to be spinning as badly down here.
Do what they tell you, Mr. Haake.
“Rise, human,” the Hichen said at last, and his tone was gentler than it had been with his brethren. He held out his hand, but Haake got to his feet on his own, ignoring the offer of assistance. The world swam before his eyes, and he felt a momentary faintness come over him. God, he wished he’d stop sweating. It was uncomfortable.
He took a deep breath, willing his head to clear. The scent of something sweet and spicy came to him, restoring a fraction of his equilibrium. That was better.
He met the old Karikis’s gaze, and the Hichen returned the stare.
“What is your name, human?”
“Haake. What’s yours?”
“I am the Hichen of this tribe. You may call me so.”
“Fine, Hichen, then. What do you want with me, and how the hell did your men know where to find me?”
The Hichen did not respond immediately but appeared to be thinking. He folded his hands in his lap, rocking gently in his chair. Behind him, hanging from the wooden poles that were the frame of this tent, tiny woven figures swayed in a breeze that Haake could not feel. Their arms and legs were made of small animal bones—chicken or rabbit, he thought—and were jointed, so that as they moved, their tiny hands and feet clicked against one another. The sound reminded him of his own chattering teeth.
Your teeth aren’t chattering now, are they, Mr. Haake?
“You were traveling with some others.”
“I was. I’m not anymore.”
“Yes, so I have seen. Calm yourself, human Haake. I sense your distress. Many of your kind find us unpleasant, it is true, but I will not harm you.”
Do what they tell you, Mr. Haake.
Haake found that he was relaxing, despite himself. The tension drained from his narrow shoulders, and when the Hichen pointed at the empty chair beside him, Haake sank into it without protest. It was a strange contraption, made of mostly animal hide and bones, and it was far more comfortable than it looked.
“Now, Haake. There is something I would like you to do for me. A simple thing, but a difficult and possibly dangerous one. You will, of course, be well rewarded.”
Haake frowned. He didn’t especially want to be doing any favors for Karikis bastards. Hell, he could hardly take care of himself these days. He opened his mouth to say as much, but what came out was, “What do you want me to do?”
“Those others you were traveling with…they have a boy with them. A young Karikis boy…”
***
The Hichen watched dispassionately as Haake disappeared between the trees. The human did not seem at all well, but there was no time to tend to him. It would not matter in any case. The man would succeed, the Hichen was absolutely certain.
“Forgive me, Hichen,” Gamont ventured beside him. The Hichen turned to look at the younger Karikis, who lowered his head, hiding the dark scales of his face.
“You may speak freely, Gamont.”
“I do not trust him—the human, I mean.”
“Nor do I. But it matters little. I have seen that he will bring the boy to us. He will succeed. Of this, you may have no doubt.”
“But this boy,” Gamont persisted, “he is an offense against nature—against the gods themselves. What is such as he to us? Let him live or die, and may the gods’ judgment be upon him.”
“I see much, my young friend, but I do not see all. The gods show me only that which they will, and this boy is the one they have chosen in all their strange and mysterious wisdom. Who am I to question? Who are you to doubt?”
Gamont still looked unsure, and the Hichen laughed gently, placing a hand on the younger man’s shoulder.
“When has the Hichen ever been wrong?”
Gamont let out a small surprised laugh and, with a bow, turned back toward the village. The Hichen watched him go, wishing he felt as confident as he sounded behind the mask of Hichen. The gods, after all, shared much—but not all.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Something roused Mona, though she couldn’t think what it was. She woke suddenly, without being conscious of it happening; one instant she was asleep and the next she was awake. All around her, she could hear the others’ steady breathing, each a slow hiss reverberating through the cavernous space of the abandoned building they’d taken shelter inside for the night. Evidently, it hadn’t disturbed anyone else, whatever it had been.
They’d all been too tired to stand watch, and the wizard had declared the building a safe enough refuge that they wouldn’t need one. None had protested. They were all too exhausted to care.
She propped herself up on an elbow, listening. Surely, it had been a sound that had wakened her, hadn’t it?
She looked down at the still bundle beside her and was surprised to see that Miraculum was awake, his clear blue eyes staring drowsily back at her. They were her eyes, she supposed, but having never spent much time before a mirror, she saw only Corbb in them. They were, perhaps, the most purely human thing about her son. The shape of his face and features and his thick golden hair were her brother’s as well, but in all other ways, he was a Karikis child. He was even growing like one, though the startling speed of it was already slowing. Garrett had assured her that the growth was only physical; their son, intellectually and emotionally, would develop only slightly faster than a human child. But that, of course, was assuming that he continued to grow like a Karikis. As far as either she or Garrett knew, Miraculum was the only product of a human-Karikis coupling there had ever been. He was their little miracle…
Mother.
The word filled the silence as clearly as if it had been spoken, but there was no echo to accompany it, and nothing had moved. It was as though the word had come, unbidden, into the ve
ry center of her head, and Mona jerked in surprise, her pulse quickening.
She let her gaze sweep around the dark room, searching for a plausible source for the sound, but she saw none. Garrett went on sleeping on Miraculum’s other side; a few feet away, she could see the dim shapes of Michael and the wizard, their features soft and indistinct in the moonlight that filtered in through gaps in the roof high above. No one stirred.
Quietly, she leaned over her son, staring into his face. He watched her with sleepy interest, a small smile curving his beautiful, if alien, lips.
“Did you do that?” she breathed into his ear, smiling herself. Miraculum blinked, then raised one hand and touched her chin with his cool, scaly fingers. That touch, too, was all his father’s.
Mona waited, wondering if it would happen again, but there was nothing. Miraculum only stared at her, his expression one of bemused curiosity. She watched as his eyelids began to droop and his hand fell back to his side, and then he was asleep again. For a while, she just watched the steady rise and fall of his tiny chest. A lock of hair fell across his forehead, and she brushed it gently away.
At last, she tucked his arm back beneath his blanket and lay back down beside him, feeling distinctly unsettled. Had it just been her imagination? It must’ve been, right? She’d known Garrett for much of her life and through him had learned just about everything there was to know about the Karikis. Telepathy was not a common trait among them. She wasn’t even sure if she believed in telepathy or any of the various branches of mind magics, for that matter.
But of course, there was Emily; Emily had seen things, past and present, and wasn’t that a form of mind magic? Mona didn’t know. Did the wizard’s crystal, which he seemed to be consulting endlessly, tap into mind magic, or was it simply a window into the cosmos? She didn’t know that either, couldn’t even hope to guess, and she’d be damned if she was going to ask. Magic was dangerous, and it was best to leave it to those with a talent for taming it. She’d never had any of those particular skills herself, and mostly, she was glad; it made life simpler.
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