by P. C. Cast
“I was thinking the same thing myself,” Nik mused. “It’s odd that this was never spoken about among the Tribe, especially as we had outgrown the ridge. Before everything went sideways when Thaddeus killed Father, the Elder Council was planning to expand farther west into the higher elevations. That’s what brought me to the Skin Stealers’ city the day they attacked and almost killed me—I was on a salvage mission to try to find more metal for the pulleys and lifts required for the expansion.”
“Your father must have known about the ghosts.”
“He had to have—and so must the Council have—though they didn’t speak publicly of it.”
Mari gazed around them at the pristine forest. “It’s so lovely. I wonder why the ancients haunt it. I hope Dove can find out.”
Nik snorted.
“Hey, give her a chance—the same chance we’d give to anyone else,” Mari admonished.
“I do not think you’d give an enemy, someone like Thaddeus or even Maeve, a chance,” Nik said stubbornly.
“You’re right. Both of them have used up their chances with me. Dove has not. So, I’m giving her a chance. Do we have to argue about this? Again?”
Nik sent a chagrined look over his shoulder to Mari. “Sorry. You’re right. I’ll work on my attitude.”
“Thank you,” Mari said.
Antreas and Danita’s small boat paddled smoothly up to them, and Antreas said, “Mari, Nik, after the next bend in the river the current is going to get rough. We have about another hour of stroking against it before we reach the Saleesh checkpoint. We can stop for a break before tackling it, but the truth is the sooner we get to the checkpoint the better. We’ll need all the light left today to get through the village and past the Of the Gods ruins.”
Mari and Nik had maintained their position at the rear of the Pack, so Mari gestured to the boats that were spread out in front of them, skimming along the river. “I think a full night of rest last night is working well for us today. I say we keep going. What do you think, Nik?”
Nik nodded. “We’ve been keeping a good pace—not so fast that the Pack is worn out, but steady. I think we should just push through.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear it,” Antreas said.
“But I think Antreas and I should let everyone know that it’s going to be rough going for the next hour or so, don’t you? It’s better they know what’s ahead, and that there’s an end to it,” said Danita.
“That’s a good idea, Danita,” Mari said. “Let the Pack know—and tell them that soon we’ll at least be on dry land.”
“Thank the Goddess,” Nik muttered.
* * *
The next hour was horrible. Antreas hadn’t exaggerated. As soon as they turned the sharp bend in the river, the current came at them, battering the boats and slowing their progress. Mari was instantly glad they’d decided not to take a break, though by the time Nik pointed to a signal fire ahead on the right bank, sweat was dripping from her arms, rolling down her back, and getting in her eyes. She made a mental note to be sure to check everyone’s hands, as her own were aching with sweat and blisters.
“Beach here!” Antreas was standing waist deep in water near the bank, helping a group of strangers guide in the Pack boats and help people from them and onto dry land.
Nik and Mari brought up the rear, so as she was waiting their turn to beach their little boat, she studied the Saleesh. They were a handsome people—tall, skin the color of the fertile earth that bordered the river, long, straight dark hair that had streaks of blue within it. Tattooed into their smooth skin in deep sapphire were intricate symbols that Mari couldn’t decipher, but that intrigued her. She saw no women—only bare-chested, muscular men.
“Mari! Nik! Your turn!” Antreas called.
It only took a few minutes to paddle to the beach and depart the little boat, with Rigel and Laru splashing through the water beside them. A tall Saleesh man, whose long dark hair was streaked with silver along with indigo and whose lean body was covered in a long, free-flowing tunic that trailed the ground and had big, bell-like sleeves, nodded his head slightly to Mari.
“Mari, I’m going to remain with the boats and be sure everything is securely tied down. I’ll join the Pack on the other side of the village,” said Antreas. “You’ll be in good hands with Father John.”
“Do you need help?” Nik asked.
“No, not at all. The Saleesh know what they’re doing. I just like being extra careful.”
“Okay, see you on the other side,” Nik said.
“I am Father John, senior priest for all of our villages.” He spoke respectfully, addressing Mari. “I will lead you to the rest of your people, who are waiting just ahead. Friend Antreas says that you are Mari Moon Woman, and the other leader of this Pack. Blessing be with you, Mari Moon Woman.”
“And also with you, Father John,” Mari said. “This is Nik. He is our Sun Priest.”
Father John nodded to Nik as they began up the rocky path that seemed to run parallel to the river. “Blessings be with you, Nik Sun Priest.”
“And also with you,” Nik intoned.
“Come this way, please.”
They climbed the steep, rocky path with Father John, joining the rest of the Pack where they’d stopped to stare at the Saleesh village. Mari’s breath caught as she took in the incredible sight. The Saleesh village spread out around them, beginning at the end of the path and climbing in magickal tiers up the side of the pine-covered ridge. The colors were what struck Mari first. The pines were brilliant green and stood out in stark relief against the brown front of wooden homes that appeared to be built directly into the ridge. As far as Mari could tell from her initial look, each home had an intricately carved idol standing at the doorway, and it was those idols that held the most striking of the colors. Even from a distance, Mari could see that the idols were all female, though each of their bodies were completely covered, head to toe, in a hooded robe the color of a cloudless summer sky. Blue flowers cascaded from hanging baskets, and wind chimes of precious blue glass tinkled musically from the arms of the pines. All across the ridge tongues of smoke curled from braziers hanging from intricately carved posts, so that the entire village smelled of sweet incense and flowers.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Sora’s voice was hushed as she moved through the Pack to join Mari and Nik.
“And I thought the City in the Trees was breathtaking,” Mari said. “But this—this is beyond even that.” She turned to Father John. “Your village is spectacular.” She breathed deeply. “And it smells wonderful.”
Father John’s lips tilted up. “That is our incense—something sacred to the Mother.”
“Then you’re going to love the gifts Sora made you,” Mari said.
“We very much appreciate your offerings. Please come to the chancel so that you may leave them on the altar.” Father John moved through the Pack so that he could take over the leadership from one of the younger men who had guided the boats to docking, and that young man immediately jogged back down the path to rejoin the others.
The Pack, walking single and double file along the narrow, rocky pathway, followed Father John to an area that looked like a marketplace, which is when the women and children began to appear.
The Saleesh women filled the market. Most of them were working with fabrics and hides in various stages of being dyed their distinctive blue, and each woman wore a long, flowing tunic that brushed the ground—usually of a light color, from white to yellow—and over their long tunic they each had a shawl, draped around their shoulders and sometimes even over their heads. Unlike the men, they weren’t tattooed—or at least none of the tattoos could be seen—but they were swathed in jewelry.
There were children everywhere—running around the marketplace, playing at rolling a leather ball with sticks, dancing and skipping around flat stones in what looked like a complex game of tag, singing in a circle with adult women—with the younger children toddling around and just generally being u
nderfoot.
“I’ve never seen so many kids,” Mari said.
“I’ve never seen so many things that sparkle,” Danita whispered to Mari, making her laugh.
Bast was by Danita’s side, which didn’t surprise Mari. One look at the half-naked, powerful Saleesh men and Mari would’ve done the same thing Antreas obviously had done—told Bast to stick close by. The Lynx prowled beside the girl, her intelligent yellow gaze continually scanning around them for signs of danger.
“My mother had a necklace made from Saleesh silver,” Nik said, keeping his voice low as well. “My father gave it to her as a mating gift. He told me how he’d had to trade two crossbows and a piece of glass for it, but it was incredibly beautiful—silver wire holding a blue stone carved in the shape of a heart. She wore it always, and when Father placed her on her funeral pyre, she wore it to greet the sun.”
“Your father came here?” Mari asked.
“Yes, when he was a young man. I never thought I’d see this place for myself—especially with my aversion to river travel—but I’m glad I’m here. I like walking in Father’s steps.”
Father John faced the Pack. “Friends, the chancel is there, guarding us from the river. You may place your kind offerings before the Mother. Then if you feel so inclined you may make trade with our women. You have but a few minutes to tarry, as you will need to meet your boats more than a mile upriver, but know you are welcome here.”
“Thank you, Father John,” Mari said. “Your hospitality is greatly appreciated.” She glanced at Sora and under her breath said, “Who has the gifts?”
“Isabel has my herb sticks.” Sora sniffed the air and then sneezed. “I can smell that they’re going to like them. A lot. And Jenna is carrying the travel cloaks. Would you mind if you went with them to the chancel? I brought one of my extra slings.” Sora lifted the length of material that was a match to the one wrapped around her torso and from which Chloe’s little black head poked as her shining eyes peered curiously around. “I thought I might trade it for some cooking herbs and spices.”
“Sounds like a really good idea,” Mari said. “Sure, I’ll go with Jenna and Isabel.”
“I’ll stay with the Pack and keep an eye on everyone,” Nik said.
“Do you sense trouble?” Mari asked quietly.
“No. And I want to keep it that way.”
Mari nodded. “Jenna—Isabel,” she called into the Pack, and the two girls turned their heads in her direction. “Please come with me to the chancel to leave our gifts—I mean, our offerings.”
The girls hurried to Mari as the rest of the Pack scattered, stopping to admire the blue cloth and the groups of women making sparkling jewelry.
“Mari, might Lily and I join you at the chancel as well?”
Lily had led Dove through the Pack to stand before Mari and Rigel. “Sure, I don’t see why not.”
Together, Mari and Rigel walked with Isabel, who was carrying a tightly woven basket filled with the herb sticks Sora had finished just that morning, and Danita, whose arms were filled with two neatly folded travel cloaks. Behind them, Lily led Dove in their wake.
As they began to walk through the market, Mari noticed women who were not swathed in tunics and shawls. These women wore long black dresses that were trimmed in white at the seams. They were more fair-skinned than the Saleesh, and petite—much shorter than the women they were serving. They moved gracefully among them, refilling wooden mugs, bringing what looked like dried fruits and fragrant flatbread rolls to the working Saleesh women, and herding children out from underfoot. Though they moved silently, the Saleesh thanked them, and Mari saw that they smiled and seemed content.
“Are those the Teteplates?” Jenna whispered.
Mari was about to say she didn’t know, that their faces seemed longer and their heads maybe a little bigger, when one of the black-robed women turned, giving them a clear view of first the side, and then the back of her head—which was definitely flattened, as well as oddly elongated.
“Yes,” Mari whispered back. “They must be.”
“I think they’re pretty,” said Isabel softly.
“I think you’re right,” said Mari.
The Teteplate women were strangely beautiful. They wore their hair piled in intricate swirls atop their elongated heads, giving them an alluring elegance.
“They remind me of the cranes that come to the lowlands in the spring,” Jenna said. “Father used to take me there to collect their feathers—remember how he used to braid them into my hair?”
“I do.” Mari squeezed her friend’s hand. “Xander always kept your hair so pretty when you were a little girl. Mama used to say he did a better job than most of the women.”
“He did!” Jenna blinked quickly to keep the tears that had suddenly pooled in her eyes from spilling over. “This village would amaze him.”
“It sure amazes me,” Isabel said. “Part of me is jealous, and wants to stay here. It’s so beautiful, and everyone seems so nice.”
“Things are rarely as they seem on the surface.” Dove’s sweet voice drifted over from behind them.
Mari turned her head, looking from Dove to Lily, and then studying the village with new eyes. “Do you sense something?” she asked the eyeless girl quietly.
“Is the day still bright and clear?” Dove asked.
“It is.”
“In my mind it is not—not anymore. In my mind there is a great storm clouding the sky.”
Mari, Jenna, and Isabel all turned their eyes skyward.
“There isn’t one cloud up there,” Isabel said.
“Wait. It’s coming,” Dove said firmly. “And when the storm hits, we do not want to be here.”
“Really? You can’t see it, Dove, but their homes are fantastic. They have wooden fronts with life-sized carved goddesses standing watch. And it looks like the back of the homes are more burrow than not, built right into the ridge. I’d sure rather be snug inside there than out on that river,” said Jenna.
“I’m not speaking of the kind of storm that brings rain,” said Dove solemnly.
“Well, then, let’s get these offerings dropped off and gather the Pack,” Mari said as Jenna and Isabel went pale. “I don’t like the sound of a metaphoric storm.”
The young women hurried to the chancel, but once there they couldn’t help but pause to admire the beauty of the altar. It had been built of layered flat rock to create a halo-like effect surrounding a larger-than-life statue of a serene-faced woman. She’d been carved from a stone that was brilliantly white. Her face was tilted down and her arms were spread wide, as if to embrace the river that raged far below. Mari could hardly glance down and down to the white water and jutting hunks of debris that was the ruin of Bonn Dam. The roar of the white water lifted from below, creating a disconcerting hum in her ears, so she turned her attention back to the statue.
Like the Saleesh women, their Goddess was wearing a long, light-colored tunic that pooled around her feet. Over it was a blue shawl that had been painted. It covered the idol’s golden hair and draped to her bare feet. Around her neck hung strand after strand of glistening round beads. Mari peered closely at them, marveling at the exquisite workmanship. All about the Goddess offerings had been left; they were around her feet as well as placed in niches in the stone wall behind her, everything from bright pieces of blue cloth to glistening crystals and small candles—many, many small candles.
“She’s incredible,” Jenna said.
“I wonder what she was carved out of. I’ve never seen stone so white,” said Isabel.
“It is called marble. Our people mine it. It is only used to create idols of the Mother.” Father John seemed to materialize from behind the altar.
“She is exquisite,” Mari said. “We, too, worship a Goddess—the Great Earth Mother. Though we form her idols from the earth itself.”
Father John tilted his head, considering. “I would very much like to see one of your Great Earth Mother idols.”
�
��Well, after we settle on the Wind Rider plains, maybe you will come visit us,” Mari said.
Father John’s smile flattened. “Oh, no, Mari Moon Woman. Thank you for your kind offer, but the Saleesh never travel far from their river. We cannot. We must not. The Mother wishes us to remain and keep the spirits at peace.”
“But they aren’t at peace,” Dove said. “They are restless and sad—as if they’re waiting. Always waiting, and never arriving.”
Father John’s eyes narrowed. “Who is this eyeless young one?”
Mari spoke the words that lifted from her heart. “She is our Seer. Her name is Dove.”
“Ah, so, Sister Dove—you have no eyes, but you see.”
“I try to,” Dove said.
Father John turned and reached into a long, wooden chest that sat behind the Mother idol. It was intricately carved with the same symbols that were tattooed on the men’s bodies, and Mari suddenly noticed that the symbols were all the same—large letter Ms, surrounded by ornate decorations. The old man pulled out a brazier that was a miniature of the larger ones that hung before the Saleesh houses, giving off sweet smoke. He took a long, thin twig and held it to one of the candles, then used it to light the clump of dried herbs within the brazier.
Then he went to stand in front of Dove as he wafted the brazier back and forth, back and forth—causing the smoke from the herbs to drift around Lily and her. Mari recognized the earthy scent of burning sage.
“Sister Dove, breathe deeply. Open your mind to the sacred smoke. Then tell the Mother what it is you see with no eyes.”
Mari watched Dove startle as the smoke engulfed her. She coughed delicately, and then breathed deeply. Lily was watching Dove as if she was going to pull away from Father John at any moment—and then Dove’s posture changed. Her back straightened. Her chin lifted. Her head turned so that if she’d had eyes, she would have been staring out at the river. When she spoke, Mari recognized the singsong tone her words had taken on the night before.
“I do not need to tell the Mother, for she already knows. Great darkness is coming—like a tide of shadows. I see it drowning the Saleesh. And when the tide ebbs, I see no Saleesh and there is a silent keening in the land as those who are enslaved mourn for what could have been.”
