by Estes, David
Lara laughs again. “I’d love to offer you some of mine,”—she motions to the skin strapped to her waist—“but that Keeper is watching us like a hungry hawk.”
I look past her, and sure enough, Keep’s eyes are boring into my skull. “He ain’t so bad,” I say. “But he ain’t so good either. Why are you here?” I ask, watching as Lara frowns. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, I’m just wondering,” I add quickly.
“I just came to see how you were doing…” I can see the and floating around on her tongue, but I keep quiet—she’ll tell me if she wants to.
“I’m doing as fine as can be expected,” I say, trying to give her time to think.
“And…”—there it is—“…I also came to continue some of our other conversations.” Here comes. Skipping out on the Call. Breeding. Woman power. Knock the Laws.
“Look, Lara, I appreciate what you’re doing and all, but I’m not sure I wanna get into any more trouble’n I’m already into,” I say honestly. I leave the other question on my tongue: Who are you working with outside the village?
Lara rises to her tiptoes, grabs the bars with both hands, sticks her face between them. “But what you did yesterday was incredible! I’ve never seen anything like it. First the Killers are coming, and then you’re going, running right into the midst of it.”
“Circ was in trouble,” I say. I dunno what she’s getting at.
“Yeah, and he’s your friend. That’s my point exactly. You’re brave, Sie. And loyal. Just what we’re looking for.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh, so hard I feel like slapping my knees, but I don’t go that far. “I been called a lot of things in my fifteen years of life, but never brave. Today is a day of firsts, I s’pose.”
“But you are brave.”
“More like stupid. Almost got myself killed. And Circ almost died anyway.”
“But you didn’t. And he didn’t. So now you have a choice.”
I ignore her last few words ’cause I’m thinking about something. Something she said just a moment ago: Just what we’re looking for. She’s just confirmed my suspicions.
I take a deep breath. It’s now or never. Just ask. Ask. ASK! “Who’s we?” I ask.
Lara frowns. “What?”
“A second ago you said ‘Just what we’re looking for.’ Who’s the ‘we’?”
Lara’s face gets just a touch of pink on it, starting on her strong cheekbones and expanding to her forehead. “Well, uh, I didn’t mean…”
“Spit it out,” I say, knowing I hit a soft spot.
“I can’t tell you,” Lara says, dropping her head to stare at her feet, which scuff around a bit, kicking at the durt and stones.
“Well, why in the scorch not?” Now I’m the one holding the bars, poking my head out to get closer to her.
“I can’t until you’ve agreed to join us.” I keep hanging onto the bars, but now it’s to keep my balance. My head is chasing circles around my tail, or maybe it’s the reverse, I dunno. All I know is I don’t know what’s going on, ’cept I’m hungry, thirsty, tired, and ready to get back to normal life in the village. I close my eyes and try to think of what to say, what to ask, how to make sense of all my strange conversations with Lara.
“How can I join something I know nothing about?” I say. “Are you with the Icers? Or the Wilds? Or are you some crazy shilt-girl for the Marked?!” I scream the last bit out, losing control.
Lara sighs, looking like she got stung by something big and nasty. “You don’t know nothing. You just don’t know the details. You know it’s a way to avoid the Call. You know it’s about getting our lives back. You know I’m involved. I’m sorry, Sie, but if that’s not enough, I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“Thanks for stopping by Lara, really,” I say. “I’ll see you around the village.”
~~~
After my mind-numbing conversation with Lara, I’m exhausted, so I lie down in the durt, being careful not to disturb my notes. The hard-packed ground ain’t nearly as comfy as my tugskin rug, but my bones are so worn out that it don’t matter. I fall right asleep.
There are Killers in my dream. ’Cept not just twenty. Hundreds. Maybe thousands. They’ve overrun the camp, flattened our tents and huts into rubble. Everyone’s screaming. Everyone’s running. Smears of blood and pools of tears swamp up the land. My father’s dead, lying there with his eyes staring straight ahead, unblinking, like he’s not even real, just some tug-stuffed dummy. For some reason, the Killers don’t touch me. They run around and around and around, growling and prowling and mauling and clawing, killing everyone. Everyone but me. I know it’s a dream ’cause I’m stuck in Confinement, not in the village. But still, it feels so real.
I scan all around me, try to find someone else I know. There. Lara. She’s standing a little ways off, watching me. She extends a hand, beckons to me to follow her. Maybe if I go with her I’ll be safe. Maybe I’ll be happy. But somehow I know that following her means joining her and we and us. Only I don’t know who we and us are.
I keep searching until I find Circ. He’s on t’other side of me, standing atop one edge of the great fire pit in the center of the village. The pointers are flying so fast off the end of his bow that I can’t even see his fingers. Every shot is true. Killer after Killer falls, dead. But then one breaks through, the biggest beast of all, bigger’n two men. It dodges Circ’s every pointer, slips past them and almost through them as if it possesses magical powers. It’s right on top of him now, fangs bared, ready to snap, to maim, to kill, to satisfy its namesake. I have a choice to make. Go with Lara, save myself, find a better life. Or…run to certain death and Circ, my best friend. Maybe my only friend. I take a step toward Circ, fire in my veins.
I wake up.
The light hurts my eyes so I close them immediately. I don’t know what time it is, but it ain’t late, still too bright. Maybe still afternoon.
I realize what woke me up. Voices. Keeper’s growl and another voice, this one as melodious and familiar as any sound in the entire world, like the tinkle of Miss Merry’s glass chimes on a mildly breezy spring morning. My eyes snap open and I shield them from the light with a hand. Using my other hand I push to my feet, feeling every bone and muscle in my body protest, which is strange. It’s the ground that’s making them sore, and yet, they don’t want to leave it.
I gimp my way over to the bars, toward the voices. “This ain’t right,” Keep says. “Only one visitor ‘llowed a day.”
The other voice stays low and hard to hear, but I’d know it anywhere. “C’mon. Just…once…kicked by a tug…walked miles…see her?”
“Circ!” I shout.
My one shout is all it takes to win the argument. Whether Keep likes it or not, Circ turns and sees me, sprints over, all smiles and laughs and flashing mahogany eyes. Keep’s grumbling something behind him, but I don’t care and he goes back inside his hut, slamming the door behind him. I hug Circ through the bars. He’s sweaty and warm, but feels so good. Plus, I’m far durtier, covered in a light brown dust and grime, so I can’t really complain ’bout a little sweat on him considering he’s been walking for the last two thumbs of sun movement.
We pull back but he keeps holding my arms, which feel all tingly, maybe ’cause I been sleeping on them. “You look good,” he says, surprising me.
“I do?”
“Yeah, you look like you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “So me is all durty and groggy and boreder’n a Totter with no jinglejanglers?”
Circ laughs. “You is you,” he says. Now he’s talking like Lara too, in riddles.
“If my father knew you were here, he’d kill you and me both,” I say.
“But he doesn’t.” Good point. “How’s Confinement?”
“Well, the food ain’t bad. It ain’t good either. It’s neither, ’cause there ain’t any.”
Circ releases my arms, squeezing one of my hands on the way down. When he let’s go, I feel something in my palm. Tug jerky.
> “Thanks,” I say, grinning. “Though I won’t be able to hardly swallow it down without some water.”
He looks over his shoulder at Keep’s hut. The door’s still closed. No windows. “Here,” he says, handing me a skin. “I’ve got another one for my trek home.”
“Thanks.” Greedily and with shaking hands, I unknot the leather tie and push it to my dry lips. Warm, clear liquid runs down my tongue. I trap it in my mouth, swish it around a few times to let it moisten every nook and cranny, and then swallow it. The first swig burns a little on the way down, but the second is perfect. “Ah,” I say, tearing off a piece of jerky and shoving it into my mouth.
“I can’t stay long,” Circ says. “Learning’s over, but Father doesn’t know I’m here and he’ll be expecting me home for dinner. I’ll have to run back.”
Mouth full, I garble, “Hard to run with those ribs.” I motion to his bandaged torso.
“I’ll manage,” he says. And then: “I’ve got news.”
I stop chewing. “’Bout the Killer attack?”
He nods, eyes gleaming. “A group of Hunters is being sent out to investigate, day after next.”
I swallow the half-chewed jerky in a big gulp. “Whaddya think they’ll find?”
“Hopefully we’ll find out who’s been hunting on Killer land,” he says.
A lump forms in my throat, but not from the jerky. “Whaddya mean we’ll find?”
“I’m going with them,” he says.
~~~
“But why you? You’re only fifteen,” I say. We’ve been arguing for a while now, pretty much the longest argument we’ve ever had.
Circ shakes his head. “You know my age has never stopped me before,” he says.
“They didn’t let you fight against the Glassies,” I point out.
Circ sighs. “That was different. That was war. This is an investigation.”
“Will you be going on Killer land?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Then it’s a war,” I say.
“I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll be dead.”
“No—I won’t,” Circ says. He takes my hand through the bars, which I like. He’s taking my opinion seriously. “It’ll be a quick out and back,” he says. “I promise.”
I’m about to argue again but his sudden promise stops me. Circ don’t make many promises to me. I can probably count them all without even taking off my moccasins. And he’s kept every last one of them. Like the time I accidentally kicked the feetball and broke grumpy ol’ Greynote Finn’s window, Circ promised it would be alright and that I wouldn’t get into trouble. He copped the blame and took the punishment for me. Or just before his first ever Hunt and he promised me he’d be safe and kill his first tug. He did, of course. Nope, he never broke a single promise to me. I owe him my trust now.
“Be safe. Please,” I say.
“I will.” His words are solider’n the stone blocking me from digging my way out. “What’s that,” he says, motioning past me, toward the durt in my cage.
“What’s what?”
“Those scribbles in the durt,” he says.
“Just scribbles,” I say. “I was trying to pass the time, do a little sleuthing of my own, try to figure out who’s behind the Killer attack.”
Circ looks impressed. “What’d you come up with?”
“It ain’t us,” I say. “The Heaters, I mean. No one ’ud be that stupid. Other’n that, I’d say the Glassies are a good bet. They don’t know the land as well as us. Mighta done it by accident, or on purpose, to get to us. I don’t know much about the Marked, but they coulda done it too, ’cause they were hungry, maybe even starving. I’m still not sure about the Wild Ones, but I hardly think a bunch of Bearers who don’t Bear could do much damage. That leaves the Icers, who don’t seem the type to come down into the heat of fire country.”
Circ looks intently at my scratches in the durt. “I’d say you did pretty well without nothing but your brains and good sense,” he says.
“You think it was the Marked or the Glassies, too?” I ask, sitting down cross-legged and sticking my feet through the bars.
“I dunno,” Circ says, following my lead. The tips of his moccasins touch mine, just like they should. Only there’re bars between us. “But what you said makes sense. Hey, Sie?”
“Yeah?”
“Have you ever wondered what else is out there?” Circ asks.
“More sand, more desert,” I say. “What else is there?” I’m not sure where he’s going with all this.
“The mountains for one,” Circ says.
“Yeah, but that’s out of fire country, Circ. We can’t go there.”
“Why not?”
His question throws me. I never really thought ’bout it. The mountains ain’t ours. They’re the Icers. We stay on our land, they stay on theirs. We hunt on our land, the Killers hunt on theirs. Everyone’s happy. “We just can’t. It’s the Law.”
“Okay. Let me ask you this: Have you ever wondered about who else is out there?”
“The Icers” I say automatically. “And I guess the Glassies, too. Other’n that, maybe the Wilds and the Marked, if they’re real.”
“And beyond them?” Circ says.
“I dunno, no one.” This conversation is becoming more mind-whirling’n the one with Lara.
“It’s a big world,” Circ says, looking up into the sky. I look up, too. The red sky is criss-crossed by thick wooden bars. Not even a single wisp of yellow cloud breaks up the sea of crimson.
~~~
By the time Circ leaves, it’s getting late and he’s probably gonna get a lashing for missing dinner. I feel bad about it, but I feel worse ’bout him going with the special group of Hunters.
After he’s gone, I think about everything he said. I’ve never heard him talk like that. About the big ol’ world outside fire country, that is. He almost sounded like he’s ready to run off and try to find it. Well, he ain’t going anywhere without me.
The jerky helped, but not a lot. I’m still ravenous—ready to eat a whole tug on my own—when my one meal arrives. It ain’t nothing to brag about, just a lump of something thick and bready, and a bit of some overcooked, chewy meat, but after having so little to eat all day, I pretty much swallow it all whole. Wash it down with the three gulps of water Keep provides.
Keep goes ’bout his suppertime business without a word, but the rest of the place gets pretty riled up. After a day of everyone keeping silent, sleeping it away, all the prisoners seem to come alive with the food. They’re all talking to each other, cracking jokes and laughing, while I sit cross-legged in the corner, counting down the moments till I’m out.
I gobble down my meager ration of food, still unsatisfied, and for the first time all day, I’m glad the cage isn’t covered. The heat of the day has melted away to a warm, but pleasant, twilight. The sun goddess’s eye is fiery red—even redder’n the sky—and as it splashes on the horizon, deep purple streaks radiate off a clump of yellow clouds that have accumulated low in the sky.
As I watch, the sun disappears, leaving behind only the ever-darkening purples as evidence she’d ever been there at all.
It’s the moon goddess’s turn to watch the world now. I wonder what she’s watching. Whether it’s fire country, ice country, or some other country like Circ talked ’bout, so foreign to us that it might as well be on another planet.
I’m ’bout to lie down and do some serious star-gazing, when there’s a rap, rap, rap on the wooden bars on my cage. The night is deepening and I hafta peer through the murk to see who’s there. Keep. “Yer’ve got another visitor,” he says gruffly. “I’m allowin’ it fer special circumstancies, but don’t yer think fer one moment yer can git away with this again. If yer ever in Confinement agin, it’ll be no visitors fer yer first day.”
He stomps away leaving me wondering what special circumstances are giving me a third visitor. And who that visitor’ll be.
Chapter Twelve
I g
et up and move to the bars, hearing voices off a ways. Footsteps head my way, so quiet that if my ears weren’t listening so hard, I might miss them.
Then she’s there. My mother. A soft smile and a warm kiss on my hand.
“Mother? What are you doing all the way out here?” I ask.
“I came to see you,” she says.
“Keep said there were special circumstances.”
“There are. But I would’ve come even if there weren’t,” she says. I believe her. My mother ain’t no liar. In the inky black of night her raven hair melts into the air, as if she’s become one with the sky. As always, she has my eyes in her head, but they seem brighter’n ever before, shining like an animal’s. “Siena, something’s happened. Greynote Shiva…” She trails off and she don’t need to say the rest. It’s obvious.
“Father’s Head Greynote,” I say. “Head Greynote Shiva’s dead.”
She nods, barely perceptible in the dark, only visible ’cause her eyes bob and bounce.
“Head Greynote Roan,” I say, trying the words out on my tongue. I smack my lips. Cringe. Whether it’s an aftertaste from my pitiful meal or the words themselves, I’m left with bitterness on my tongue.
“Yes, Siena. I wanted to tell you first.”
“You didn’t have to come all the way out here—”
“Yes, I did.”
The firmness of her words surprise me. Mother’s not usually firm ’bout much. She’s always been so wishy-washy. We’ll have to ask your father. Maybe, but let’s check with your father. Have you asked your father? Those are her usual words.
Now, everything ’bout her has changed. She’s being firmer with me, firmer with my father. Standing up for herself. Even standing up for me. What the scorch is going on?
“Shiva was…” she says, grasping the bar as if to steady herself. It sounds weird hearing her say Shiva without the Head Greynote part in the front. It’s almost disrespectful, but there’s no disrespect in her voice. “…a good man. He tried hard, wanted the best for the village. But he’s been sick for a long time, longer than most.”
