Warrior Witch

by J. D. Lakey

  “A bounty? On my head?” Cheobawn repeated, trying to make the words make sense.

  “A reward. For your capture,” Connor said patiently.

  “One would have to be without a shred of honor to sell another human for a few coins,” she said doubtfully.

  “It’s a lot of coins, Cheobawn. Hundreds of thousands of chits. A man would not have to work if he had that kind of wealth.”

  Cheobawn bit her lip and considered this new tactic by the Watch. The walls of the world were closing in on her again. She shivered as memories of the Scerron’s black box invaded her thoughts. Something would have to be done about these walls.

  On the third day, dawn found them under a cloudless sky with hardly any wind to fill their sails. The heat and humidity became oppressive. The boys discarded their shirts and rolled up their pant legs, still not used to the Lowland weather.

  Megan wore nothing more than shorts and her spidersilk undershirt, which was as near as naked as one could get and still have a shred of modesty.

  Alain, with no direction being given from his Alpha, dropped anchor and suggested they rest to save the batteries.

  The deck rocked as Megan and Tam moved through their morning training session. They used the top of the boat’s cabin as a sparring floor since it was the only space big enough to allow any kind of maneuvering without falling over the side. It was not easy fighting on the top of a moving object. The rocking of the boat under their feet just added to the challenge.

  Cheobawn made herself a mental note. They would steal a bigger boat next time. She smiled. Next time. It sounded like a promise from the future. There would be a next time. Her life had ceased to be a pell-mell dash across the planet since she took it back from those who wanted to use her for their own purposes. Now, under her own control, they could lay at anchor far to the west of the barge graveyard, out of sight of the towers of Dunauken, and far from the regular patrols of Watch ships. If any searcher came too close, she could just wrap a Void about the boat and wait for them to move on.

  Daydreaming while the world trailed by the fingers of her mind, she watched the reflection of a flight of yellow quills as they danced upon the morning breeze above her head. Their good mood was infectious. The carrion dragons that were perched upon the railing trilled happily, but with their bellies full of one of Connor’s fish, they were not inclined to join their Lowland cousins. Instead they settled, dozing with only half an eye watching the sky, the other eye always watching her. They did not trust her to not disappear again, not having yet forgotten that the Spacers had torn her, their All Mother, from their heart and tried to take her off-planet.

  The training session behind her grew serious. Tam hissed in pain and Megan laughed. “Got you!” the older girl crowed. They were using the boat hooks in place of bladed sticks. The weight was odd, the steel hook deadly. The two most experienced fighters were still getting used to their new weapons.

  “Try that again and see what happens,” Tam growled in mock anger.

  Cheobawn let a smile play upon her lips. Sleep wanted to reclaim her, but she kept it at bay. The sun on her back felt too good, its light turning crimson behind her closed lids. The river was wide here and calm. Only the wake of far-off passing boats found them, rocking them gently around their anchor chain.

  The carrion dragons roused enough to spread their wings wide, catching the light, the occasional rustle of leathery flight membranes above her head the only reminder of their presence. They had been to Dunauken and back once already. She had given each a note to deliver to those who would grieve overmuch if they thought her dead.

  “Dearest Sam, you have probably already talked to your father. It is true. I have become a thief and a pirate, but the money-beast does not mind overly much. I will trust that you keep what you know to yourself for the time being. I will return once I can trust that the Regent will not try to kill me again.”

  His note had returned to her, cryptic and terse. “Everyone is looking for you. Desperation makes them rude. Stay away. It is not safe.”

  Rude. Sam’s code word for brutal. He had already been questioned by the Spacers, then. And perhaps the Watch, as well. Che worried about that. Sam had a hard time holding his temper when it came to people with authority.

  Her note to the Margai, Kirr, was to the point. “Do not blame Spider for my sins. The Prince Regent has singed his fingers on the power of the domes. I do not blame you for your allegiances.” It was Kirr’s report to Kander and Kander’s report to his superiors that had added fuel to the Regent’s fear and forced him to act hastily. She had expected as much, but even expecting a move on his part had not prepared her for the attempted kidnapping.

  Kirr’s return note reflected his confusion. “What have you done? They think you are a danger beyond measure. Be careful. It is not safe.”

  Doreeth’s note was delightful. “Witch. Your magic is rampant. The resulting chaos makes it uncomfortable for friend and foe alike. I expected great change from you. I am not disappointed. Stay safe.”

  Safe. What was safe? Cheobawn considered that. Perhaps they were too close to Dunauken. She thought about picking up anchor and sailing down the river to the sea. But she was too sleepy for such energetic thoughts. She let her hand hang down off the edge of the deck as she watched the dark water flow under the boat. She was an Ear. She did what was her innate nature. The ambient called to her. She sank her mind into the River Liff’s watery depths and listened to the life that lay hidden under the keel of their boat.

  The Lowlander humans must surely have names for the creatures she found there. The shoals of little silver fingerlings. The lightning-quick fish that fed upon them. The legless mud-eels whose fins were like clawed hands. The amphibious crabs, a subspecies of the arachnid family that also contained Spider and all his kin. In the darkest murk under her boat a giant fish plowed its pig-like nose through the fertile mud looking for shellfish and mud worms. It encountered a small mountain of stone and sent its inquisitive proboscis around its edge, searching after the tiny pink shrimp that liked to hide in places like this.

  Something intruded on her sleepy reverie. The small mountain had a mind. A mind she could hear. Impossible. And yet, there it was, this cold, sleepy giant, glowing softly on the edges of the All-Mind. The mountain slowly opened its mouth and the pig-nosed fish swam inside the resulting cave to investigate. Did the fish know it was caught? Some internal clock-work warned it. At the last minute it turned on its tail and made a dash for the mouth of the cave, but already it was too late. The mouth snapped shut and the fish was swallowed.

  Cheobawn jerked away from the edge of the boat and scrambled backwards until she hit the wall of the cabin. Fool, she thought. Daydreaming will get you killed. She knew this creature. A giant armored lizard. Limbless and nearly blind, it was the cousin of the bhotta, the pinnacle predator of the high mountains. This creature ruled the depth of the river, psi as the bhotta was psi, and it ate whatever would fit in its mouth—be it fish or spider or daydreaming children—because it could call its prey to it and make them swim into its mouth, just like bhotta.

  I would never eat you. You are the All Mother, whispered the sleepy giant.

  Che blinked in surprise. All Mother. Had she gathered this one into her heart along with all the other living things that lived in the air around the Lowlander city? Was it part of the web of life that clung to the ribs of Dunauken that she now called her own?

  What do you know, Old One?

  I dream. I dreamed the coming of human ships that plied the deep dark cold between stars. I dreamed the death of Spider. I dreamed that the humans built a city. A fat city full of fat people. They pay me tribute in the shape of an occasional fat morsel.

  Tribute? Cheobawn asked, confused.

  Drowned, they drift down from the surface like slow, rich rain, already grown cold by the time I swallow them.

  Cheobawn mulled over these images. Do you think the humans toss a sacrific
e to you to appease your ire at their encroachment into our world? I think they are just careless about where they end up dying.

  Ahhhh, they are like Spider, sighed the giant monster. I remember Spider fondly. Ever curious. Its young would wander up-river and crunch pleasantly between my teeth. Without Spider to feed my hunger I had to call humans to the water’s edge. They swim toward me but never quite reach before they forget they are not fish and try to breathe. Easy pickings. One barely has to extend a mind-tentacle into the city and they come to me.

  Tam touched her cheek. Cheobawn blinked and looked up. His concern for her was apparent, the furrows of worry almost permanently etched on his sweaty brow now. “What has startled you, wee bit?”

  Megan dropped to the deck opposite her Alpha, her sweat-soaked undershirt nearly transparent from the moisture.“Have they found us?” she asked, “or has Spider become a bit too forward with his attentions?”

  “There is a monster in the dark below us,” Cheobawn said dreamily, her head bent towards the deck.

  Tam met Megan’s eyes over her head and then glanced down at the river. “What kind of monster?”

  “I do not know if it has a name, this Old One. I think . . . I think it never had a name. If the Lowlanders know of it, they can only call it monster, for few of this generation have ever seen its like. It has not risen to the surface since it was a fingerling. If it dies, it dies of old age, its great body drifting down to Orson’s Sea to become Spider food. I felt one like it at Sam’s house, a smaller cousin hidden in the deep waters under the bluffs. It is psi, like bhottas are psi, and it has taken to calling humans out of the lower city and drowning them.”

  “What? Why?” asked Megan, startled.

  “Easy pickings, it says. It is lazy and Lowlanders are not psi-immune as the other animals of this planet are. These humans have no walls and they believe in ghosts, pixies, and water sprites, which makes them listen to the whispers in the ambient instead of blocking them out. They listen to the voices in the night and think they are immune to the unseen behind their walls of light. Keep your inner walls intact in the Lowlands. Do not get sloppy or complacent as I am prone to do.”

  “Are we in danger?” Tam asked.

  Cheobawn cocked her head again, trying to listen to the ambient and hear all that it wanted to tell her. After a long, puzzled pause, she gave up and shook her head. “It calls me All Mother.”

  “What does that mean, then?” Megan asked. “Yes or no?”

  “No. I am the All Mother. I hold it in my heart. It will do nothing but what pleases me.”

  “We are human, too. What would keep it from rising to snatch us from the water?” Tam asked. “Are we safe, at least, staying on the boat?”

  Cheobawn laughed. “It could eat this boat and ten more just like it in one mouthful, but I think it is too lazy to move beyond opening its mouth to grab whatever floats by.”

  Tam gazed down at the water, deep in thought. Finally, he turned and knelt beside her “You will tell me of any other threats we need to know about, won’t you?” Tam asked.

  She was not sure what he was implying by that. Cheobawn could only stare at him, wide-eyed, confused.

  “This is not meant as criticism, Ch’che. It is just that you have been living among the Lowlanders too long, far from Pack and family,” Megan said. “You have grown accustom to keeping your thoughts hidden from those around you. Come, sit with me while the boys take up the anchor. We have decided we need to explore the far bank. Alain has been studying the maps. He says there are villages on that side of the river. Maybe we can use what is left of our stolen chits to get supplies. Flour, cooking oil, and soft cheese. Eggs. Fruits and vegetables. I am growing tired of fish for every meal.”

  They moved aft. Tam took the tiller while the boys took up the anchor and unfurled the sails. Megan went to help them. Che sat next to Tam. He smiled down at her as he ran his palm over the golden coronet of stubble that covered her head. “You look tired. If we get further away from the Lowlander city, you will not be forced to use the Hunting Void so often.”

  “I need the practice,” Che said with a shrug. Truth was, she was not sleeping well. The darkness behind her eyes felt cold and dangerous. Time would heal that. She did not want to worry her Alpha overmuch. She had other things he needed to be concerned with.

  “Right now, we are only boat thieves,” she said. “I doubt that the owner of this boat has noticed that it is gone, and if he has, he has merely reported it to the Watch. The Watch patrols the river, but they are spread thin and they tend to go where the most boats are. Their job is to maintain order. A notice will be sent out to all the Post Offices, but the river people are not friends with the Watch. There are many boats like this one on this part of the river. The ambient is clear of any threat in that respect,” Che said. She paused.

  “But?” Tam asked. “I hear a ‘but’ in that statement.”

  “The Spacers will have a hard time telling one sailboat from the other from so far up in the sky. Their intel is sketchy at best. Blackwind Pack is an unknown quantity. When they start looking, they will look for a single child. A boat with five crewmen will not be high on their list for surveillance. But if they start hunting us in earnest, I must tell you that I cannot produce a Hunting Void that can fool a robotic space eye.” Cheobawn looked up into Tam’s face. He looked baffled. “Kirr and Kander Hess are Psi-Ops. Those who know nothing of being psi call them The Royal Mind Readers. They will eventually be sent to question Sam and Robert Wheelwright again. Then everything they know the Spacers will know. From there, they will have to question the hydroplane pilot. He picked the Wanderlust for a reason. He will remember this boat for Kirr. Kirr will pluck it out of his mind. Kirr is my friend, but he is also a warrior who owes his allegiance to another. He has given his fealty to the Prince Regent and it is by the Prince Regent’s hand that I nearly died. Once Kirr knows of your existence, it will be impossible to hide from the sky-eyes. We must plan for this.”

  Tam nodded, silent for a moment, before flooding her with questions. She told him about the robotic spy cameras orbiting over Dunauken. She explained the political hierarchy of Lowlander government. She explained that Kirr was an alien psi-adept. That he and Kander were part of a branch of the Spacer military called Psi-Ops who specialize in interrogation by invading the minds of the people they question.

  Tam made a disgusted face at this bit of knowledge. What the Psi-Ops did was the height of rudeness under the domes. One did not invade the mind of another without permission, and one certainly never did such a thing by force. Che patted his arm, sympathizing with his offended sensibilities.

  She explained Kirr, the Margai. Tam made her explain this gray-furred alien in great detail, demanding she tell of every encounter. He asked so many questions Che grew hoarse with talking. It was a relief when he fell silent once more.

  Che put out a hand and smoothed a bit of dark hair from his golden brow. “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  “I was just wondering how hard it would be to change the name of this boat.”

  Cheobawn laughed. It was the last thing she had expected him to say.

  “What?” Tam asked, offended. “You are not the only one who gets to play pirate. I think I will make an excellent pirate.”

  Che threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, most excellent,” she agreed.

  Chapter 7

  The sun, hot and orange, hung just above the horizon when they anchored offshore from a village that had a symbol but no name on the map. A half-dozen shallow draft boats were pulled up on the muddy bank amidst racks overburdened with drying nets. Beyond, a handful of mud-sided houses sat back from the shore well above flood level. Instead of a roof, the houses wore a cap of thick thatch made of reed bundles. It was a curious way to make a house and Cheobawn found herself staring at the construction, trying to make sense of it. The reeds seemed to be a clever solution to living without a dome. Things moved in the deep s
hade cast by the thatched roofs. Men. Women. Even children. They stepped into the sunlight, drawn to the waters edge out of curiosity.

  The villagers gazed at the strange sailboat lying off their shore, and remained silent. No one waved or smiled or called hello. Che listened to their ambient. Wariness. Honest interest. Hope. All tempered by distrust fueled by fear. But no obvious threat. Megan must have felt the same.

  “I guess we are swimming,” Megan said as she stepped over the railing and dove into the river. Tam cursed and followed her, not liking that she was so careless about putting herself in danger. Unencumbered by heavy clothing, Megan’s long brown legs kicked out, propelling her swiftly through the water. Tam, dressed in pants and a shirt, managed to keep up with her despite this handicap, his powerful, broad shoulders an equal match for Megan’s legs. Che admired their skill. They had put their time on the river to good use.

  Che hung a boarding ladder over the side and dove after them. Alain and Connor followed, Connor racing after his Truebrother while Alain swam alongside Che, pacing her shorter strokes, the carrion dragons circling above her head, chittering nervously, not liking the idea of their All Mind getting submerged in water.

  Hush, Che said into the ambient. It is just water.

  Things live in the dark. Things that like to nip at your toes when you are not looking.

  Che laughed, and told Alain what they said. Alain, perhaps thinking much the same thing, did not laugh. Instead, he encouraged her to swim faster.

  Megan and Tam were deep in conversation with two of the elders of the village when Alain and Che stumbled up onto the bank. Cheobawn paused there at the water’s edge, not sure about what she was seeing. The villagers looked . . . wild, almost feral. She found their oddness delightful and could not stop staring. These Lowlanders were not urban like the people of Dunauken. Nor were they ordinary rivermen. In the humid heat of the river delta they wore next to nothing. The males wore loincloths made of cloth woven from a rough plant fiber. Women used the same cloth as a simple band to bind their breasts. Everyone wore skirts and short capes, even some of the men but the skirts were made of what might have been linen. It was hard to tell. The cloth’s ivory whiteness had been painted with a brilliant design using every color of the rainbow. Cheobawn sidled up to Megan’s side, reaching out a hand to touch the cloth draped casually around a tall Elder’s waist. Was that Spider dancing in the waves? And bhottas curled up in their deep, dark dens? The artist had even rendered an accurate resemblance of a sky hunter and starships. Not a modern starship but the scout that had first landed on the bluffs above the beach. Who had drawn this? How did they know?