by J. D. Lakey
Cheobawn, whose last meal had been tea and cookies with the Coven, thought this was an excellent idea. She drained some of the heavy syrup into a small pan and set it on the tiny stove to boil down a bit while Megan found the other ingredients for making the light, fluffy cakes. Che watched her heartsister as she cooked. Something was different about her. It was not just her appearance. The softness of the short, blond braid tied up with ribbon and the graceful fall of skirt over those beautiful hips were a ruse. Gone was the girl who used to talk to her about whatever was on her mind. A watchful silence had replaced the shy introversion. There was a fierce resolve in her demeanor that had never been there before. The force of it had been woven into the wall around her mind. Cheobawn was not about to breech those formidable defenses. For the first time in her life, Che had to ask her friend about what was on her mind. How did one make small-talk with someone who used to know your mind so intimately?
“I don’t recognize the ingredients you are using. How do you know what to use?” Che asked.
“I made myself a pest on the barge,” Megan said with an impish grin. “Made the galley cook explain everything in his kitchen. Good thing I did because a barge cook is also the ship’s healer. Half of the containers on his shelves held medicines, and were definitely not edible. It did not take me long to realize that all the things he cooked with were the same things we use above the Escarpment, just named differently. Cooking is cooking, no matter where you are.”
Che nodded, watching Megan’s face. The older girl now had a passion for cooking, a thing that Cheobawn had absolutely no interest in at all. All these months apart had change things. While the cakes browned on the small griddle under Megan’s watchful eye, Che went in search of fishing gear. It was not stored anywhere that seemed logical. But she did find a chest full of clothes sized for an adult male. Hidden under layers of rough-weather gear she found shirts and shorts. Cheobawn shed the awful white dress and donned a blue-striped shirt whose sleeves ended at her elbows and a pair of tan shorts with draw-strings to keep them from falling down off her slim hips. She took a similar outfit back to the galley.
“Ohhh, you are the best!” Megan exclained. Che watched the pancakes while Megan stripped down to her spidersilk underwear and donned the new clothes. Megan kicked the dress and apron away. “I never want to see those again.”
Cheobawn laughed, but she picked up the discarded clothing, folded it neatly, and stored it in the chest. They were pirates now. You never knew when you were going to need a good disguise.
After Blackwind Pack ate their breakfast she began the search again, starting at the prow and worked her way back, opening every cubbyhole she could find.
Nothing. Not even a bit of twine or a fishhook. What was the point of having a boat if you did not fish? Lowlanders were a strange lot.
The wind had grown stronger. Tam and Connor were busy with the rigging, furling the main sail. Che plopped herself down by Alain where he held tight to the tiller, watching the wind in the canvas. She scowled at her toes. Their pirate adventure was doomed to be short-lived if they could not even manage to feed themselves. They needed fishing gear. She finally looked up at Alain. Of all of them, Alain had changed the most. He was leaner, harder, the planes of his face sharply defined. She could almost see the face of the man he was to become. They had all left their childhood behind when they came down the Escarpment but Alain, his mouth set in a firm line, seemed to understand what that meant and had mourned the loss the hardest.
The young Father looked down at her and lines around his eyes softened.. “Oh-oh. Why am I not going to like what is about to come out of your mouth?” he sighed.
“Pirates are a kind of thief, right?” she said, thinking out loud.
“Yeah? What is your point? Are we about to make enemies of every honest sailor on the river?”
“Are you a thief if you steal from a thief? Who would be angry with us besides the thieves whose stuff we take?”
“Yeah,” Alain said trying to find cracks in her logic. “But there is one problem. Though I have only been in the Lowlands a short while, I have found that a thief would expect everyone to be as dishonest as they are. I do not think it will be easy to sneak up on them.”
“We are very good sneaks. We have been playing the game of Ghost for as long as I can remember. I know of a smuggler’s lair. How hard could it be to find what we need without betraying our presence to a couple of ill-trained guards?”
Alain thought about it for a moment. “Sounds risky. Why do we need to steal stuff from thieves?”
“Megan says we only have enough flour for one more meal and I cannot find fishing tackle anywhere, so unless you want to leap into the water with your knife between your teeth and try to spear a passing fish, we need to find a way to feed ourselves.”
“OK. You obviously have somewhere in mind. A place where we can find thieves. Show me on the chart.”
Cheobawn pulled the chart out of the slot by his knee and put her finger on a spot mid-river. “If we time it so that we anchor here just after dusk, I can put a Hunter Void on the Wanderlust for a short bit of time and keep the guards from noticing us.”
Alain studied the chart, and then looking up, he let out a high, piercing whistle. Blackwind Pack dropped what they were doing. In the next moment they had all converged around Alain and the tiller.
“We have a foray to plan for tomorrow,” Alain announced. “Che has the Who and the Where and the What of it. We just need to figure out the How of it.”
Connor and Tam grinned.
Megan ran her fingers over the short blond bristles on Cheobawn’s head. “What are you getting us into, Ch’che?”
Che grinned. “Just a little pirate fun.”
Megan laughed as she hugged her heartsister to her chest. “Someone is feeling better. This is the Cheobawn we love.”
Cheobawn hugged her back, happy. The world owed her grim-faced Pack a little fun.
Chapter 4
Cheobawn woke in the dark, her heart pounding. She gasped for air, fighting the blankets, the softness of mattress, and the heat of her Pack’s bodies. It took her a moment to remember where she was. Moonlight steamed in through the small port window. Her mind found the carrion dragons. They had come, winging their way through the mists just after sunset. River had sent them, each with a message tube filled with blank paper tied to their legs. They had been there as she fell asleep, a comforting presence, perched in the rigging of the sails, their minds full of the All Mind ambient.
Her dreams disturbed their slumber. The numbing fear and desperation of being back inside the black box, using every power she knew of to break free, had returned just as powerfully as if she were living it once again.. Oud had been there. And Spider. Their alien timelines ran like brilliant threads through all of reality. Somewhere in that vortex of space-time that had sucked her out of the world and back in again she became a trout leaping into the air above a rushing river that flowed from the beginning of the Oneverse to its end. There was a Scerron colored stain that tainted her river and she followed it, hunting the stink of Oud.
The dragons chittered in concern, confused by her panic and afraid of her rage. It was a living thing in the in the cool night air, contagious to those who had the gift to hear it. She wanted to leap up and run but she was contained on this boat that was every bit a prison as the black box of her dreams. She wanted to feel the cool breeze on her face. She wanted to bathe her too-hot skin in the light of the moons.
Her Pack lay about her, their breathing slow and deep. She would not disturb them if she could help it. Carefully, more by feel than sight, she extricated herself from their embrace and eased herself off the bed. Bare feet on the wooden deck made little sound.
Dressed in only her spidersilk undergarments, she climbed up out of the hold and onto the top of the cabin, where she sat down and lifted her face to the night sky. The moon, Epona, hung just above the western horizon, her feet buried in the River Liff.
Her sister, Eiocha, hung just above the dark landmass to the east. She shivered. She should have brought a blanket but that would have meant waking her Pack. Che did not want to lay down again, did not want to close her eyes, did not want to fight the darkness there behind her lids. It could become a bad habit, this—staying awake all night, heart pounding, afraid of the cold place behind her eyes, waiting for the comfort of the sun’s light. The lack of sleep would wear her down. She had to solved this. It would be unfair to her Pack to burden them so.
The carrion dragons launched themselves from the rigging and landed around her, gurgling softly in the back of their throats, a sure sign that they were worried.
“Hush,” Che breathed out. “It was just a nightmare. Go back to sleep.”
Just then something hit the outer atmosphere, broke apart, flared briefly, and burned its way across the night sky, a reminder of what was at stake if she failed to accomplish the task set to her. If she was part of Mora’s Queen’s Gambit, then Dunauken lay open and undefended, ready to be conquered. That sounded dire. Like death and destruction and the smell of blood. Cheobawn shuddered and forced herself to breathe calmly.
“Not if I can help it,” Cheobawn said to her dragons.
The tired dragons complained, ruffling their leathery wings. Sleep, they admonished her. They snuggled against her, spreading their wings. She smiled. It was a lovely, soft blanket they wrapped her in. She lay down and curled around them, and they her. The light of the moons touched the surface of the Liff and reflected its light back into the lizard’s eyes. She stroked the nearest under its chin. The lizard purred.
We are being hunted, Che said.
Who? they asked.
Everyone, Che said from behind closed eyes. I am the bait.
They did not understand, her dragon friends.“Never mind. It has been ever so long since we have been home, you and I. I cannot remember the last time we rode Bear Under the Mountain’s sides.”
The lizards chortled softly. Dropping her mind deep into the ambient, she went in search of Bear. Bear was there, just on the edge of knowing. He rolled on his back and grabbed his rear paws with his front, rolling about like a young cub, inviting her to play.
Che reached out and scratched his belly with a hand made of darkness and stars. Bear Under the Mountain rumbled in pleasure. Then he rolled to his feet and lifted her onto his back. They climbed into the heavens, using the cascade of starlight like a staircase, expanding their shape with every step until they had grown as large as Star Woman. Star Woman shook out her skirts full of stars and danced them both off the edges of the world. But Eater of Worlds came sniffing about her hem, his shape always a warning.
Was this a dream or was it real? Sometimes it was hard to tell.
Is it time? Eater of the Worlds asked.
Time for what? Che said, being purposefully obtuse.
Time to finish what we started, you and I. Time to destroy those who dared to lift their hands against you. You want it as much as I. I feel it. Taste it. There inside you.
What do you taste? she said, denying him access to her inner mind.
Your rage. Come. It is time to end this hunt. Even I weary of a millenia of hide-and-seek.
Who hunts us? She asked.
You know. You just choose not to remember. Be patient. Let us play to pass the time, said Eater of the Worlds. They will find you soon enough.
Even Eater of the Worlds could be evasive. Could it be trusted? But the invitation was tempting. To let go and let the emotions rule her mind. She gave in to it.
It was upon Eater of World’s back that she rode back to the planet where her body lived. He hung just above the atmosphere and pointed.
There. Do you see them? The far-seeing eyes. They hunt for you with these. Machine minds with machine eyes sent to find one small child upon the great river.
Eater of Worlds grabbed a passing asteroid and sent it spinning towards the nearest satellite. It was a game of bowling. Bouncing the stone off the robot, the asteroid ricocheted back into space while the robot spun out of control, its attitude jets frantically making course corrections. Che laughed. It was a fun game, annoying the robots, making them appear ridiculous. She tried to grab a passing rock. Her hand passed through it.
You are more dream than real, Eater of Worlds said. Make your hand solid.
Che reached for another asteroid. When it seemed as if she had caught it in her grip, she tried throwing it. Eater of Worlds laughed as the stone remained where it was and her body tumbled head-over-heals through the upper atmosphere.
You must stand with your feet buried in the planet. He whipped another asteroid after the first. The robotic eye tumbled away, jets going crazy.
Feet in the planet, Che muttered, grabbing another stone. Feet in . . .
The asteroid found its mark. Another robot spun away, skimming the planet’s skin with a blazing flare that melted its carapace before it righted itself and returned to its place in the sky, its eye blinded and now useless.
A great cat with gray striped fur rose up from the planet, huge and terrible to behold as it stood with its feet in the River Liff and its head in the stars. Kirr. Kirr had found her. Reaching out, he caught her in his hands, his claws like the bars of one of Jonah’s cages. He held his hands up to his lovely blue eyes and studied her.
Are you dead? They say you are dead. If you are dead, then what do I hold here in my hands?
Let me go, she spat at him.
They shifted into the misty place.
“Ah,” breathed Kirr. “Not dead after all if you can come here. What are you doing? Do you want them to fear you more?”
I want them to leave me alone, she growled.
“Come back to Dunauken. Make peace with the admiral and the governor.”
No, she said, uncompromising finality in that word.
“Why not?” Kirr asked.
Che became a dubeh leopard, all black and fierce. Here in the misty place, she could be whomever she wanted to be. She snarled at Kirr. Because I am not ready to forgive any of it. You hurt me. I am just child enough to want to hurt you back.
“No one wants to hurt you,” Kirr protested.
Lies. Always the lies. Eater of Worlds had told her different. She screamed incoherently at him, using her dubeh voice to tell him of her unquenchable rage. Startled, Kirr recoiled and lost control of the connection.
Cheobawn woke as the carrion dragons leaped up into the sky, screaming in dismay. Tam found her there, her face buried in her palms.
“Hey,” he said, gathering her up. “What’s wrong? Are you crying again?”
Che lifted her face so that he could see her dry eyes. How was it that a person could feel so much pain that not even tears could heal it?
“They knew they were killing me when they shut me in that box. But they did not care. I was an annoyance. An inconvenience. They wanted to put me in my place. Teach me a lesson. Me. Because I did not play by their rules.”
“I will kill them all, for you, if that will make you sleep easier,” Tam said, wiping the sweat from her brow.
Cheobawn shuddered and buried her face in his neck. “Death would be too kind,” she said softly.
The breath caught in Tam’s throat but he said nothing more. What could one say to so much hurt? In the history of the domes, had ever one Mother been so abused? It did not take a psi gift to know that terrible things were to rise from this. Consequences of unspeakable proportions that would destroy his Ear if she were allowed to act upon her baser emotions.
Che could feel those thoughts running through his mind. Tam’s walls were usually better constructed than this. Or maybe it was just her. In the mood she was in, no walls could stand against her. If she were sane, if she loved her Pack enough not to hurt them, she would lay this rage to rest. But she could not. It burned like a forest fire in her gut and she was not sure how to put it out. Pain needed to be met with pain. What terrified her more than anyt
hing was the certainty that something or someone had to die before that fire would go out. Blackwind Pack, standing by her side, was the most at risk.
Chapter 5
At dawn, they put the first part of the plan into motion. Sailing slowly west across half the width of the River Liff, they waited for the right time. As dusk approached, Alain turned the boat and they sailed back towards Dunauken. Che stood upon the prow with Tam and Connor and pointed to the mass of shadows that sat low to the water about mid-current. Jonah’s barge graveyard.
Tam retrieved a long-glass from the cubbyhole by the tiller and put it to his eye, studying the thirty-odd barges. Half an hour later, he put the long-glass away and looked at Che.
“I see no one. No movement. Nothing. What were you expecting?”
“The barges are a smuggler’s haven,” Cheobawn said. “Rule breakers of every sort use this as a rendezvous point. If there is anything of value, Jonah would not leave it unguarded. I expect no less than two guards. Even with nothing of value on the barges, would he leave them unprotected? He must have a system of signals and protocols to be used upon approaching the barges. Something to tell him that the coast is clear. He would be at his most vulnerable in the approach to mooring next to the barges. Jonah knows this. But what we need may be on the barges closest to Dunauken. He uses them as camouflage. I will bet no one has set foot in them since they were abandoned here. We need equipment if we are to be real pirates. Let’s see what Jonah has hidden here. But we need to be careful.”
Tam nodded. “Do you think they have a weapons stash? I am feeling naked.” Blackwind Pack had all acquired long knives in their journey down the Liff, but they were on foray and they needed something with a little more reach, like a bladed staff or a bow.
Che smiled. “I want to teach you rifles.”
“What are those?” Connor asked with interest.
“Guns. Simple machines that fire small metal projectiles meant to bring down game when hunting,” Che said. “They are terribly inaccurate and they ruin the meat but if all you wanted to do was kill something, they work just fine.”
