Warrior Witch

by J. D. Lakey

  “Rifles,” Tam said. “Check. Add that to our hunting list, Connor.”

  Cheobawn looked at Alain. “Remember Colonel Bohea’s weapon? The pulse rifle? I watched him kill a bush pig with it. Turned it into mist. I suppose it is too much to hope for, but perhaps Jonah has a stash of such weapons. A Spacer weapon is illegal for Lowlanders to own I have been told, but I do not think Jonah follows such rules.”

  “I will be on the look-out for them,” Alain said with an enthusiastic grin, the boy she loved making an appearance from behind his business-only exterior. The last one he had touched had been modified for use with a robotic suit and was useless to any but a similarly equipped Spacer.

  Darkness settled. They furled all the sails and ran on electric engine power alone. The bare masts would be less noticeable than a bright white sail. As the last rays of the sun danced across the sky, Alain pointed the Wanderlust at the barges and cut the power to the electric motors, letting the current take them the rest of the way. They grew careful of any noise. Sound carried far over the water. As they neared the barges, Alain feathered the rudder back and forth, reducing their speed further.

  Tam looked through the long glass one last time.

  Megan wandered close, a thoughtful look on her face. “There is a threat aboard those barges,” she said in a low, throaty voice as she studied the boats.

  Che closed her eyes and listened to the ambient.

  “Forward barge. Two guards. Asleep. Sleep caused by too much Lowlander beer. If we are quiet and do not jostle the barges, they might not wake up,” Che ventured.

  Megan shrugged. “Awake or asleep, they are nothing to fear. Lowlanders are poor fighters.”

  Cheobawn smiled up at her Packsister. They had to be poor warriors indeed if Megan did not take them seriously.

  Tam stared at the heavy boats. “If we get this sloop close without bumping, then we can get over the side, split up, and search the other barges without getting near the two guards. I will give us half an hour, then we meet back at the sloop with whatever you have found. Che, you stay with the boat.”

  “What!” she hissed furiously. “I am not a baby.”

  Tam sighed. “No, but you are the best boatman we’ve got. Can I trust you to keep this little beast from jumping about and knocking against the other boats? I do not want to wake everyone but I also do not want to tie off too tightly in case we have to make a hasty retreat.”

  Che scowled but acquiesced. Tam had a head for logistics and she trusted his instincts.

  They had only the moonlight to see by. Tam stood on the prow armed with a boat hook. Connor stood mid-ship with his own pole. Megan and Che stood between them ready with their fenders. Alain’s feathering tactic worked wonders. The boat was barely moving by the time they slid up alongside the nearest barge.

  Tam snagged the railing of a barge while Connor reached out and caught his own part of the long, low boat. Che and Megan dropped the fenders in place as the current tried to tear them away. The power of the big river was deceiving in its slow, sleepy flow to the sea. Tam put a foot on the rail, leaned back, and strained against the rail, the brass boat hook squealing softly along the damp wood of the barge’s rail. Scrambling for the mooring lines, Che and Megan flicked them expertly around the cleats on the deck of the barge and then pulled the lines taught. Things shifted off in the raft of barges, ropes groaning under this added weight, rotten wood sighing as it crumbled under the strain it could no longer bear. The raft of barges told her things with those sounds. They were old boats, these barges, and they had been sitting neglected for a long time—years perhaps. Wooden boats were living things, Sam had told her often enough. They needed a lot of care to keep them afloat. Cheobawn was certain Jonah did not care for the barges. If one took on water, he would just cut a hole in its hull and cut it loose. Che looked over the side and wondered how many barges lay piled below them, an aquatic monument to Jonah’s quest for wealth.

  Tam clicked his tongue at her. She looked up and gave him an apologetic grimace. He had caught her daydreaming in the middle of a foray. Unforgivable. He held up the boat hook for her to see before he tossed it to her.

  Che caught it as she looked around. The Wanderlust was stopped, holding snug against the side of the barge. Tam gave her one last hard look before he stepped over the double rails, Connor and Megan following. They donned the small electric headlamps they had found in the bin by the tiller and in the next heartbeat, Blackwind Pack spread out through the maze of barges.

  Alain came running down the side of the Wanderlust. “I got the tiller tied off so that she is steering away from the side of the barges,” he whispered. “We will have to trust that the anchor chains on these big beasties are more than strong enough to hold the extra weight.”

  With those parting words, he went over the rails with the grace of a dubeh and slid into the darkness. Che strained to follow him with her eyes, but when that failed her, she followed the tracery of his passage through the ambient. She could feel the two sleeping guards quite easily. Her Pack, on the other hand—adept at hiding themselves from any hunter-mind—showed themselves not by their presence but by their lack of one. It was like watching heat waves over a field on a summer day. You sensed the distortion caused by the passing of energy around a thing, but not the things itself. They were getting quite good at hiding their minds from her. Having a Black Bead Ear had been good training.

  Something flitted past her cheek. Che looked up. The stars were temporarily blacked out by the inky sweep of a thousand tiny wings.

  Night? she asked, suddenly very happy. Their mood was infectious.

  The flight of wings dipped and swirled and turned back upon itself. All Mother? Star Hunter? You have come back to us, the tiny black lizards cried.

  You would not let me leave, you and all your brethren. How could I get lost with my feet held so firmly to the ground for me? I would thank you for that. Now if you could teach me how to fish, I would be happy.

  You are the All Mother. The fish are yours to command. Call them when you get hungry.

  Cheobawn blanched. It seems dishonorable to use my gifts to kill.

  Is it dishonorable for the Night to fly over the water and flash our beauty so that the fish rise to greet us? You must use who you are to your own advantage, Night insisted. That is how the world works.

  A Night lizard lit upon her outstretched hand and flashed its neon blue tongue at her to emphasize the point.

  Truly you are the most beautiful of creatures, Che thought, smiling. The flock swirled above her head, their flight a dance of joy. The little one on her hand leaped away to join them.

  “What in the name of all that is holy are you doing?” growled a rough voice. “Are you a witch that can call the creatures of the night to do your bidding?”

  Che squeaked in surprise. Turning, she found herself face to face with a guard. Only the railing of the barge separated them. A small lantern dangled forgotten from one of his meaty hands.

  “Well?” insisted the guard. “Start talking, boy. What are you doing here? Up to no good, I’ll wager.” He drew nearer and lifted his lantern, shining it in her face.

  Che put her hand up to shield her eyes from its glare as she tried to think up a good lie.

  “Wait. I know you. You are Sam Wheelwright’s cage boy, ain’t ya? Is that his sloop? Seems sorta small. I don’t recognize it. What is he doing here, and anchored on the wrong side of the barges? Is Jonah expecting him? Nobody told me to expect visitors. Jonah is going to want to hear about this, let me tell you.”

  “Sam sent me,” she nodded. “Said Dunauken was getting too hot for me. Needed me to go somewhere the Spacers would not think to look.”

  The riverman snorted. “You sail that little sloop here all by your lonesome? Good job, that, but you are on the wrong side of this raft. The Watch will see you come first light and be all over this place. That won’t do. Won’t do at all. Here. Pass me that boat hook and
I will help you drag her around to the western side of the raft.”

  Che did not want to give up her boat hook.

  “Wait. I have another hook. We can do it together,” she said, heading aft. Her mind raced as she devised a strategy to get him within hook distance. Things were about to get messy.

  The Night swept across the sky just above their heads.

  “What the . . .” cursed the guard as he stepped back and threw his arms up over his head to ward off the cohort of winged creatures. The lizards did not touch him, but they passed close enough that the beat of their wings stirred the hairs on his head.

  Che turned and brought her boat hook around—ready to knock the man senseless—but there was no need.

  Tam was there. Using the butt of his knife, he slammed it into the pressure point in the man’s neck. The riverman dropped like a stone. Tam, a grim look on his face, caught him and lowered him gently to the deck.

  “That was close. Thanks,” Che said. “How did you know . . .”

  Night swirled around Tam.

  Bad? Bad man, this?

  This is Tam, my Alpha male. My mate. He is very fierce so be nice.

  Night was not so sure. They spiraled up above Cheobawn’s head, their high-pitched squeaks making a wall of sound that surrounded her. Tam ignored them as he patted down the unconscious riverman.

  Calm yourselves, she chided them. Night, trusting her hunter skills, spiraled up into the darkness and disappeared.

  “Are you done playing?” Tam growled sourly. “Come help me.”

  Che scrambled over the railing, squatted by Tam’s side, and helped him search the pockets of the unconscious man.

  “I had it under control,” Che said.

  “Did you? It did not seem as if you did,” he said.

  “How did you know that I . . .”

  Tam fished out a small com unit and handed it to her.

  “Whoa. This will come in handy,” Che said, smiling up at her Alpha. Tam was not smiling. He was angry with her for some reason. She pressed her lips together and dipped her hands into the man’s other pockets. Her fingers found something heavy and surprisingly cold. Che pulled it out and studied it in the moonlight. The metal object might have been jewelry. It looked like four heavy brass rings forged together in a gentle arc. The constant touch of skin to brass had given the thing a glowing patina that was pleasing to the eye. She put it in her pocket and kept searching.

  Tam took the man’s knife from his belt and handed it to his Ear. She slid it onto her belt. It was a comfort to have the weight of a knife under her hand once more. She had lost her own knife somewhere up on the destroyed starship.

  Che found a small leather purse full of coins. She paused, uncertain about what to do with it. It was not hers to take, but they needed to buy flour and eggs and so much more.

  “Well?” asked Tam. “Are we to take this man’s last chit?”

  Che weighed the purse in her hand. The weight of it woke things in the back of her mind. “That is not the right question,” she said dreamily. The Night has infected her mind with ideas of abundance.

  “Huh?”

  “Is it his last chit?” Che asked. “It is not as if he has no way of earning more coins. I am sure Jonah pays him for guarding the barges. Will he go hungry if we take his money? I doubt it. The worst that could happen is that he will have no means of paying for his beer the next time he goes to the pub. But if he has friends, they will feed him and keep him in liquor until he can pay them back. Next time, when the circumstances are reversed, he will be the one buying everyone a round at the pub.”

  Tam considered that. “Money seems to be an endless river from which everyone drinks.”

  Cheobawn looked up at him, her eyes dark pools that not even the moon could illuminate. The world wanted to tell her things. It felt like being in the thrall of Menolly’s dreamsmoke, making her blind to everything but what the ambient of the world was showing her. “A river. My brilliant Tam. That is exactly what it seems to be. A magical river that connects everyone who touches it. Do they join together in the communal act of keeping entropy at bay, of turning chaos into order, of imagining a world in which everyone can live in harmony? It is a living, breathing thing, this money. The only way to stop the magic, the only way to kill the money-beast is to stop its flow.” Like locking it in a black box. Cheobawn sucked the air into her lungs and pushed those memories out of her mind.

  Tam nodded. “OK. I sorta get that. But can we take this man’s chits without harming that magical river?”

  “We are in need. We are thirsty. The money-beast will give us drink. As long as we do not take more than we need and return it to the flow as quickly as possible, there will be no adverse effects for us or anyone else. Yes. We take his money.” She shoved the purse into her pocket.

  “I am sure this man will not appreciate your logic,” Tam said, a smile hidden in his voice. Cheobawn looked up, drinking in his beauty. The dim moonlight played across his glossy dark hair and cast his eyes into shadow. A few strands of hair had escaped his short braid and lay tangled on the dampness of his cheeks. She wanted to reach out and smooth them back but did not for fear of distracting him. He was leading this foray, after all, and he took such things extremely serious.

  Che sighed. “No. Being a thief requires brawn and determination. If he wakes, we can offer to fight him for his coins.”

  “Let us hope he does not wake then,” Tam laughed. “I am in no mood to kill this man for you.”

  “Would he die for a handful of coins?” Che asked, doubtfully.

  “Lowlanders have died for less. The trip down the Liff was very educational.”

  “Do they die for honor? I can hardly credit it.”

  “Lowlander Fathers are much like Fathers of the domes,” Tam chided her. “Do not think they are so base that they do not have a code of behavior that guides them all.”

  Che met Tam’s gaze. He was trying to tell her something. He had found like-minded souls among the rivermen, perhaps. Men that could be trusted to have your back in a fight.

  “You will not be so quick to kill for me if you sympathize with the enemy,” she warned.

  “Be careful about who you call enemy, I beg you,” Tam whispered. “That is all I am saying.”

  Cheobawn nodded. Fair advice. She would hold it in her heart because Tam asked it of her.

  When they had emptied the guard’s pockets, she helped Tam drag the man away from the railing, propping him up against the barge’s cabin. If they were lucky, he would wake hung over and not remember his encounter with Che and the Night.

  Twenty minutes later the rest of Blackwind Pack returned, arms laden with provisions. In no time at all, they had cast off from the barge armada and drifted silently away. Well out of earshot of the barges, Alain started the electric motors and sailed west.

  Chapter 6

  Che lay on the deck at the prow of the Wanderlust and listened to the world. It had been ages since she felt relaxed enough to put her Ear out into the ambient.

  Near at hand, her Pack moved through their morning routine, their lazy energy tasting like the motion of the large fish in the water under their keel.

  Connor tended the half-dozen fishing lines he found on the barges. They hung off the stern, bits of colorful string and bright metal attached to their hooks. It seemed a nonsensical lure, but the fish were not wise enough to know they were being duped. He already had a full string of hapless victims dangling in the water, awaiting the frying pan. Alain sat next to him, studying the charts that mapped the bottom of the river and the shallow passage out to Orson’s Sea.

  Fishing gear was only part of the treasure they had taken off the barges The com unit had proved useful. Connor fiddled with it for a day before announcing that he had found a fishing scow not too far from them. He contacted the captain and arranged a meeting. Using the stolen bag of coins, Tam worked a deal—coins for supplies. The coins had not yielde
d nearly as much as she had hoped. Connor, seeing her look of disappointment at the paltry pile of supplies set before them by the fishermen, growled something about cheats, making Alain punch him in the shoulder and drag him back to their sailboat. Once they cast off and sailed away, she made him explain how he thought the other crew had cheated them.

  “He charged us twice what the general stores charge up north,” Connor explained. “You are supposed to argue with them, make them bring their price down until they cannot bear the burden of your offer. You never pay what they ask the first time they name their price. I am going to do the bartering next time. Tam is too softhearted.”

  Che nodded. The stolen coins made Tam uncomfortable. He had been glad to be rid of them. But now she had a new word. Barter. Connor had a point. She still did not have this whole money thing figured out.

  Tam drew her aside. “The captain says the Watch is looking for a stolen sloop. He knows we do not rightfully own the Wanderlust but he did not seem to care. Said to be on the lookout for the Watch sailboats with blue and white banded sails.”

  Che looked up, letting her eyes scan the horizon. “What do you want to do?”

  “We could head for open sea. Perhaps they will not follow us out there,” Tam suggested.

  Che bit her lip and considered this. “OK. But let’s wait. We will need more supplies if we are to sail to the Ten Thousand Islands. The next boat we meet will be our test to see if we are truly meant to be pirates.”

  Two days passed. They met no boats. Connor could not get anyone else on the com unit to agree to a meeting on the open river. The captains were all running scared because of the increased presence of the Watch boats. The unit’s battery finally died. He gave it to Alain in hopes that their resident tinkerer could rig a fix. Alain took it apart and now it lay in a box under the table in the galley, a forlorn array of tiny parts.

  Connor had pulled Cheobawn aside. “I heard things over the air. The captains are talking of a bounty being placed on your head.”