Widdershins

by Charles de Lint

  But power didn’t always equate control. One look at Minisino’s face told Walker that neither the presence of the two great cousins nor the potential threat they represented would be enough to stop him.

  They would have to physically move against him.

  They would have to spill his blood.

  And if it came to that, the buffalo army would not stand idly by.

  If these were all the game pieces Crazy Dog had to bring to the board, they were no closer to ending this problem than they had been before their arrival. In fact, by bringing Ayabe and Raven to argue his case, Crazy Dog might have made things worse.

  There were few as stubborn as Minisino. With such great cousins standing against him, he would only be all the more determined to see this through in his own way.

  Joe

  Joe was in an excellent mood. Just before he led Cassie and the remaining members of Knotted Cord into the between to confront the buffalo army, he’d suddenly lifted his head and a big smile creased his features. That earned him a puzzled look from Cassie.

  “I know they call you Crazy Dog,” she said, “but what can you possibly find to smile about right now? And if you give me that old ‘it’s a good day to die’ line, I’ll whack you so hard you’ll wish you were dead.”

  He turned and kissed her, then said, “Honey came through. She got Jilly out of that damned place. Can’t you feel it?”

  As soon as he spoke the words, he could see that she did and her smile matched his own.

  “What about Lizzie?” Siobhan asked. “Is she okay?”

  Joe turned to look at the fiddler with her arm in a sling and her eyes full of hope.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I don’t know her well enough to be able to sense if she’s with them. But someone’s there, and I know she’s female.”

  “It’s got to be Lizzie, right?”

  “We can hope,” Joe told her. “But we’ve got other business right now.”

  With that he stepped into the between, the others following on his heels. He’d expected that they’d be alone with Walker—just the handful of them facing off against the buffalo army—but when he got there, he grinned again. Good old Jack. He and Grey had brought in the big guns.

  Maybe this was going to work out after all. Maybe nobody had to get hurt.

  “Well, what do you know?” he said as he strolled over to Walker. “The gang’s all here.”

  He heard an unhappy sigh come from where Lucius was standing, but he ignored the old corbae doing his Buddha thing, just as he did the impressive moose lord, standing tall on his right. He gave Walker a friendly nod, then met Minisino’s glare with his crazy clown gaze. Knowing Jilly was safe, all his worries were channelled into so much energy he felt like grabbing a drum from one of those buffalo soldiers and doing his own dance. But while he couldn’t crank down the mad light in his eyes, he managed to stand still and keep his voice calm.

  “So, what do you say, Minisino?” he asked. “Can I take up a moment of your time?”

  He rolled a cigarette as he spoke, had it made and lit in less time than it would take someone else to shake a Lucky Strike out of its pack. He blew a wreath of blue-grey smoke and offered it to the buffalo war chief.

  What’s the situation, Jack? he asked, speaking mind to mind and narrowing the focus of his thoughts so that only Jack could hear him.

  Pretty much a mess, Jack replied. This thing’s like a powder keg that’s about to explode. Minisino’s got a stick up his ass the size of a redwood, and he’s not interested in listening to anybody—not even the powerhouses we’ve got lined up here.

  Got it, Joe sent back.

  Minisino made no move to take the proffered cigarette.

  “There will be no peace smoke between us, mongrel,” he said.

  “It’s not a peace smoke,” Joe told him. “Just an offer of respect before we start in on this thing. I mean, you’ve got to know a whole lot of people are unhappy about how it’s playing out.”

  “What happens here today is cerva business,” Minisino said, his voice flat. “It concerns no one else.”

  The war chief gave Raven a pointed look before letting the dark anger of his gaze settle on Joe once more.

  “Yeah, see that’s the thing,” Joe said. “If it was only you and the bogans going at each other, I’d agree with you. But you’re setting a whole other thing in motion here, something that’s going to affect everybody for a long time to come. So all of a sudden, it’s other people’s business.”

  “Will someone remove this mongrel from my sight,” Minisino said, “or must I do it myself?”

  “That’s twice,” Joe told him before anybody could move.

  The buffalo soldiers who’d been about to move forward held their place, waiting for their war chief’s response.

  “Twice what?” Minisino asked.

  “Twice you’ve insulted me. Why would you want to go and do that?” Minisino shook his head. “I speak only the truth—how can that be an insult? You’re a half-breed. Canid and crow. Neither of whom have any business here.”

  Careful, Joe, Jack said.

  I hear you, Joe sent back. I’m cool.

  But after taking another drag on his cigarette, he flicked the butt at the war chief’s feet.

  “I guess we’re done being polite,” he said.

  He heard Lucius growl a warning, “Joe,” to him, but he never let his gaze stray from Minisino’s. He understood everybody’s concern, but he wasn’t being jackass prideful here. It was all a matter of respect. If Minisino didn’t offer him some respect, then the war chief wasn’t going to listen to him. And if he didn’t listen, then this whole situation was going to come crashing down like crow boys playing football with a bird’s nest.

  So it had to come down to them going at it one-on-one. Joe had no idea if he could take the war chief or not, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that he was going stand his ground and, whether he liked it or not, Minisino would have to respect that.

  The war chief ground out the butt with a hoof. The faintest trace of a smile touched his lips.

  “I’m going to enjoy this,” he said, stepping forward.

  Well, I won’t, Joe thought, but he couldn’t back off now.

  He’d fought big men before. The main trick to it was to not get yourself killed. You didn’t let them connect a solid blow, and you for sure didn’t let them get a hold of you. The only weakness you could find with a trained warrior like Minisino—sometimes, if you were lucky—was that they were so sure of their own ability, and so disdainful of yours, that they came into the fight feeling cocky.

  Minisino was going to come in hard and fast, that was a given. His eyes gave away the first lightning fast blow. Joe was able to duck under it and land two of his own on the war chief’s broad chest. It was like pounding his fists against a stone wall. Minisino batted a big hand—the way you might an insect flying up into your face—and caught Joe a glancing blow that sent him sprawling back in the dirt.

  The war chief came in quickly, following up on his advantage, but before he could land a real blow, before Joe could get up, an apparition took shape in the air between them. Minisino dodged to one side so as not to knock her down, his eyes widening. For the moment, Joe was forgotten. Joe himself froze in the act of getting back on his feet before he slowly stood up. His gaze, like everybody else’s, was on the spirit of the dead woman who now stood between him and the buffalo war chief. In this place she had the same solid substance to her as did the spirits of the buffalo dead in Minisino’s army.

  “Anwatan,” Walker said, the first to name her.

  There was no happiness in the cerva’s voice. Only surprise at her unexpected appearance. And sadness for her death. Perhaps a touch of worry that she was here, instead of moving on into the next world.

  So this was the girl the bogans had killed, Joe thought.

  “How dare you decide on the manner of my retribution?” she demanded of Minisino.

  The
war chief actually retreated a step from her, but that, Joe decided, was involuntary, because it soon became apparent that he wasn’t backing down from his plans.

  “This isn’t about you, Anwatan,” Minisino told her. “This is for all the cerva the aganesha have slaughtered.”

  The spirit shook her head. “The dead see through the lies of the living,” she said. “Why don’t you tell this army you have gathered the truth, since they seem to be conveniently blind to it?”

  “That’s because he wouldn’t have an army if he did,” another woman’s voice answered before Minisino could speak.

  She didn’t take shape the way the deer spirit had. She’d stepped out of nowhere—the way you did in the between, when you come from the world that Raven made, or from the otherworld—a small woman with long tangles of red hair, dressed in baggy green cargo pants and a tight black T-shirt. There was something familiar about her, but Joe couldn’t quite place it. What he did know was that she wasn’t human or fairy, a cousin or a spirit.

  Cody’s balls, Jack said in his head. This is turning into a regular variety show for freaks and misfits.

  No kidding.

  Minisino looked at the newcomer, and Joe saw something change in his eyes. Whoever the stranger was, the war chief knew her. Knew her and didn’t want her to be talking.

  “Don’t even start, Christiana,” he said. “This is neither the time nor the—”

  “Hey, speak for yourself,” Joe broke in. “Me, I’m all ears.”

  Because now he knew who she was. Jilly’d spoken to him of her. She was Christy Riddell’s shadow.

  “Yes,” the spirit of Anwatan said. “Let her speak, or I will.”

  Minisino glanced back at his army.

  “Drum,” he commanded. “Dance.”

  But not a hand touched drum skin, not a foot moved, not a voice was raised in the stomp dance chant. Like Joe, the gathered buffalo knew that their war chief was afraid of the stranger’s words, and while they would readily follow their leader wherever he might lead them, whether it be battle or a strategic retreat, they would not follow a coward.

  “Speak,” Anwatan repeated.

  “Well,” Christiana said. “You all see a war chief standing here at the head of his army—and damn, he really looks the part, doesn’t he?”

  “Christiana,” Minisino said softly, the threat plain in his voice.

  The red-haired woman ignored him. “But we go way back, Minisino and me. Or should I say, Wininotawag—Fat Ear, because that’s how I knew him then.”

  As serious as the gathering was, a rumble of soft laughter rose up from the buffalo army. A smile touched even Walker’s lips.

  “Anyway,” Christiana went on, “I originally came here at the request of Tatiana McGree, Queen of the Newford Fairy Courts. She wanted me to set up a meeting with Fat Ear to see if, between the two of them, a peaceful solution could be found. And I was willing to do that because then they’d owe me a favour. But since this young woman—” She waved a hand in Anwatan’s direction. “—has brought it up, maybe it’d just be easier for you all to decide if Fat Ear should even be leading anybody in the first place.”

  “This woman,” Minisino began, pointing at the red-haired stranger, his voice loud, “is—”

  “Telling the truth so far,” Anwatan said. “So why don’t we let her continue?”

  The war chief glared at Christiana. She’s just made herself a serious enemy, Joe thought. But it didn’t seem to bother her in the least.

  I like this girl, he told Jack.

  Do you know her?

  She’s Christy’s shadow. The question is, how did she get involved with all of this?

  Who cares? Jack replied. She’s doing great so far.

  No kidding.

  Plus she’s got a nice ass, Jack added.

  Stay focused.

  Oh, I am.

  “So, as I was saying,” Christiana continued, “Fat Ear and me, we used to pal around, back in the once upon a time when we were young. Even then he was real serious—already the warrior—and ambitious as hell. He was going to lead the buffalo tribes back into glory, he told me, it didn’t matter what it would take. He’d chosen this new name—Minisino. Warrior. It’s got quite the ring, doesn’t it? Better than Fat Ear, anyway. I mean, who’s going to follow a war chief named Fat Ear?”

  “Get to your point,” Raven said.

  “Right.” She turned to face Minisino. “What you’re doing here isn’t right. It wasn’t right when you talked about it way back when, and it’s not right now when you’re actually doing it.”

  Minisino hadn’t stopped glaring at her.

  “You know the history of my people,” he said, his voice stiff with anger. “It’s long past time that we—”

  “Oh, spare us all the bullshit. You’re doing this for one reason and one reason only: you want to be in charge. You want to be remembered—and not as Fat Ear. Pretending that you’re doing this for Anwatan, or for any other victim of injustice, is just low.”

  “You—”

  “And here’s the thing,” she went on, turning to look at Ayabe and the others. “Did you never wonder why this stomp dance is going on for so long? It’s because Fat Ear needs the Court’s army to come to him. Here he’s got the numbers. Over there . . . well, what does he have? Forty flesh and blood warriors? Maybe fifty? Because you do know that spirits of the dead can’t do much of anything once they cross back over to the world Raven made, don’t you?”

  Her gaze went back to Minisino and his army.

  “Here,” she said, “he’s got a sure victory that’ll live on in stories told around the campfires for a hundred years. Over there he’s going to get his ass handed to him on the end of a fairy spear, because if you don’t think Tatiana can field enough fairy to deal with fifty buffalo warriors, you’re living in a whole other reality than I am.”

  Damn, she was right, Joe realized. Why hadn’t anybody else figured that out?

  It was such a basic thing—all, or at least one of them, should have remembered.

  “Tatiana’s already promised to see that Anwatan’s murderers are punished,” Christiana went on. “And I’m sure she’ll be open to hearing any other concerns. But this is the kind of thing you deal with at a council table, not on a battlefield. Not unless you want your asses whupped. Or—” She fixed her steady gaze on Minisino. “—you’re out to make some kind of a name for yourself.”

  There was an uneasy shuffling in the ranks of the buffalo army. Minisino turned to them.

  “You don’t actually believe this crap, do you?” he asked. “Why are you even listening to her? She’s not one of us. What do you even know about her?”

  “You tell us,” one of the buffalo warriors said.

  “We don’t have to know anything about her,” another added. This one was a spirit of the dead, the holes in his chest where the bullets had struck him were plainly visible. “We can see through the lie to the truth she tells.”

  A third buffalo warrior—another of the spirits—nodded. “We should have seen it from the first, but we were too eager to be avenged.”

  “We still can be!” Minisino cried. “If we guard the entrances of the otherworld against the aganesha, they’ll have to meet us here or the dreamlands will be closed to them forever.”

  “What do you have that needs to be avenged?”

  “You’re my people. Your deaths weigh on me.”

  The buffalo spirit who had last spoken slowly shook his large shaggy head.

  “No,” he said. “Anwatan spoke the truth. We let ourselves be blinded. But now we do see through the lie. All that weighs on you is your ambition. Our deaths . . . hers . . . they were only something you planned to use to reach your goal.”

  One by one the spirits of the buffalo dead faded away until finally there was only the army of the living left. The ghost buffalo went silently, their drums silent, their hooves insubstantial and raising no dust with their passing. The few dozen buffalo soldier
s that remained also turned their backs on their war chief, stepping away, out of the between.

  When the last of them were gone, there was only Minisino standing on the plain. Minisino facing the handful of cousins and humans who’d had the courage to stand between his army and the fairy courts.

  “Why did you do this to me?” he asked Christiana.

  “I didn’t do it to you,” she said. “You did it to yourself. Truth is, I make it a rule never to get involved in this kind of crap, but I need a favour from Tatiana and stopping you’s the only way I’m going to get it.”

  “You could have asked me for help.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  She turned to look at the others.

  “That was well done,” Raven said.

  She shook her head. “You heard me. I wasn’t doing this to help anybody but my brother. Now Tatiana has to find him for me.”

  “Who is your brother?” Walker asked.

  “Nobody you’d know. Just another human who got caught up in your fun and games.”

  She tipped a finger against her brow and just like that, she was gone again, stepping away as suddenly as she’d come.

  Jilly

  Lizzie and Honey work at getting me up on my feet—Lizzie physically trying to pull me up, Honey whispering encouragement in my mind—but I can’t rise. I can’t do anything. All I can do is relive that moment when I dropped the pail and so threw away any chance of getting Geordie back.

  We can’t stay here, Honey is saying. We need to get out of the sun. And we need to find Joe. He’ll know what to do.

  Not even Joe’s going to have an answer for this one. How do I reclaim all the dirt and debris that spilled out of the pail and went scattering down onto the rocks below? If I’ve doomed Geordie, I’ll be damned if I’ll do anything to help myself. I deserve to just die here. I should stay here until that burning sun overhead turns me into dust and the wind blows all the little bits of me away.

  Let me be Dust Girl.