by P. C. Cast
Dove coughed and then sneezed, wiped her nose with the back of her hand—and just like that she was herself again, a slight, pretty girl who had no eyes. Her face turned from looking out at the river to Father John.
“I’m sorry. I know that sounds awful, and I’m not even sure where those words came from, but I believe them. Something bad is coming—something that has waited a long time to be awakened. It will destroy the Saleesh if you do not leave here. You may return safely—I feel that strongly. But first you must leave for an entire cycle of the seasons.”
“Leave? We are the Saleesh. We do not leave our river.”
“But you can, right?” Mari said. “It’s spring. You have time to move inland. And as Dove foretells, it isn’t permanent, but only for one cycle of the seasons.”
“The Mother will protect us. We will remain, as we have always remained. We survived the destruction of an entire world. The Mother made certain we thrived when others perished. We remain under her powerful protection.”
“But the Mother knows what is coming. I believe this warning comes from her,” Dove said.
“That is absurd. Why would the Mother not warn me, her chosen Priest, directly? Or any of our people? Why would she choose the voice of a stranger?”
When Dove only bit her lip and remained silent, Jenna spoke up. “Maybe she has been trying to warn you, and you wouldn’t listen? I don’t mean that with any disrespect. It’s just that I know what it’s like to have overlooked the truth because I didn’t want to see it.” Jenna met Mari’s eyes and mouthed, I’m sorry.
“Father John,” Dove said. “Think back on your dreams and on signs and portents you might have either overlooked or misinterpreted during the past several months. Perhaps then my words will hold more meaning.”
“You must go. Now.” Father John’s voice was flat and emotionless—like the edge of a knife.
“I—I did not mean to offend,” Dove said.
Mari touched the girl’s arm, silencing her. “Father John, Dove only did what you asked of her. She looked with no eyes and told you what she saw. I have not known her long, but she has given me her oath to only tell the truth. I believe her, and I think you should, too.”
Father John met her gaze, and Mari saw complete denial there, as well as simmering anger. “Place your offerings at the feet of the Mother. I will gather your Pack. You will leave. Now. You will not speak to any of our people. Do you understand me?”
“I do, and we will leave. But first, I would like to meet with your Elder Council, or whatever governing body is in charge of your people,” Mari said as Isabel and Jenna hastily deposited the gifts at the feet of the Mother idol.
“I am Father John, Senior Priest. I speak for the Saleesh. If you wish to rejoin your boats you will leave. Now. And for the rest of your journey on our river you will not utter one word of what that woman said to any Saleesh. Ever.” He pointed accusingly at Dove. “I have eyes and ears in each of our villages. Should I hear even a rumor of the nonsense your eyeless Seer spouted I will declare that your people are not to be allowed passage on our river.”
“But we only wanted to—” Mari began. This time it was Dove’s hand on her arm stilling her.
“It will do no good. He has eyes, but does not wish to see, and in his blindness he has doomed his people.”
“I have eyes, and I know evil when I see it. You bring evil here. I should have expected no less from unchaste women who play at leadership. You speak of shadows and death, but our village is a place of light and beauty. We guard the river and the Mother guards us. We keep the spirits at peace. We are Saleesh!” Father John spat the words at Dove. “Now leave us or I will order your boats to be broken and sunk to the bottom of our river for your blasphemy.” Then he turned on his heels and, robes flapping in his wake like a foolish old bird, he strode into the marketplace, calling for the Pack to gather.
“His people are going to die,” Dove said softly.
Dove’s words pressed against Mari’s skin, lifting the small hairs on her arms and the back of her neck. She gazed around at the peaceful, prosperous village filled with women and children, and Mari felt a terrible sinking within her—like she was drowning in the shadow tide that would come. “I have to do something.”
“You just did, Mari,” Jenna said. “Or, you tried to. All four of us tried to.”
“Yeah, Dove warned him—he’s their leader—and not only is he refusing to listen, but he threatened us,” Isabel said.
“I could try to talk to him again,” said Dove.
“Or we could get one of the Saleesh women alone—maybe one of the older women. We could tell her. Maybe she would listen to reason,” Jenna said.
“That’s not going to work. Remember what Antreas said about the Saleesh being patriarchal,” Isabel said.
“But he also said they love and care for their women,” said Jenna.
“Loving and caring for their women is not the same as respecting and valuing their opinions.” Mari sighed. “Look at them.” She pointed to the marketplace. Father John had flapped his way through it, telling the Saleesh women that they were to close trading with the Pack. “There is no discussion. No questioning. Nothing. Father John gave an order and all the women are leaping to respond. They won’t listen to us, and why should they? He’s their leader, not Dove. Not me. No. I won’t risk the Pack. Let’s get out of here, like he said—now.”
The Pack was quickly gathered up with no explanation. Father John disappeared, leaving a somber, younger man called Brother Joseph to lead the Pack through the village and up the narrow, winding trail that ran along the steep bank of the river.
“You must move swiftly, please. Father John wants you to camp on the far side of the Of the Gods ruins this night. So, come! Come! Follow me.”
His robes weren’t as voluminous as were Father John’s, but Mari thought he, too, looked birdlike as he gestured and pointed.
“Excuse me, Brother Joseph. Antreas, our guide and the Companion to the Lynx, Bast, was going to meet us here in the village,” Danita said.
“The Lynx man knows the way. There is no need to wait for him, and it is not permitted. As I said, Father John insists you leave. Now. Follow me.” The tall young man turned and rushed to the front of the Pack, gesturing for them to follow him.
“Antreas will be fine,” Mari told Danita. “He has been here—several times. Don’t worry. And if for some reason he doesn’t meet us tonight, I promise you little Cammy will lead Davis right to him.”
“You would do that? Send Davis to find Antreas? Even after Father John threatened us?” Danita said.
“We’re a Pack. We don’t leave our people behind.”
Nik and Laru joined them then, with Sora close behind. Nik lowered his voice. “What happened?”
“The short version is Dove had a vision because Father John asked her to, but he didn’t like what she saw. When we tried to talk with him about it, he kicked us out,” Mari said. “Sorry if that messed up your trading.”
“Not mine. I was mostly just looking,” Nik said. “They have an amazing selection of trade goods. I’d just found some excellent-looking charcoal pencils I thought you’d like for sketching, when Father John proclaimed the market closed and that was that. No one spoke except to call the children. They just closed everything up and turned their backs on us.”
“Literally!” Sora said. “Thankfully, I’d already traded for a nice supply of spices and salt.” She lifted a piece of cloth that had been fashioned into a bag that was bulging with spices.
“Moon Woman, is all well?” Adira fell back beside Mari. “We were trading with the Saleesh women when suddenly they stopped speaking to us and closed their shops. Mari, Sora, did we do something to offend them?”
“Nothing except tell them the truth,” Mari said. They’d passed through the village and were winding up the trail beside the river.
“It was me, and not any of you,” Dove’s voice drifted over from behind Mari, where she
walked carefully beside Lily, keeping her arm linked tightly with the younger girl’s.
“No. That’s not true. It wasn’t you, Dove. Father John asked you for a vision. It is not your fault that he didn’t like what you saw,” Mari said.
“What did she see?” Sora asked.
“The death of the Saleesh, if they do not leave the river for a full cycle of seasons,” Dove said.
Nik glanced over his shoulder at Dove, his eyes wide with surprise. “What kills them?”
Dove shook her head. “I couldn’t see that. I only saw a tide of shadows, like mist and darkness, and I knew with certainty that the tide would drown them if they did not leave here.”
“That is horrible!” Adira gasped. “There are so many children in the village. The women must know about the danger.”
“We tried to talk with Father John about the vision, but he wouldn’t listen,” Mari said.
“He threatened us,” Danita said.
“What?” Nik motioned for Wilkes to fall back with them.
“Dove had a vision their priest didn’t like. That’s why everything got shut down so fast. And Father John threatened them,” Nik caught Wilkes up.
The older Warrior’s eyes narrowed. Beside him, Odin growled deep in his chest, and Wilkes’s hand rested on the Shepherd’s broad head.
“Warning the women won’t do anything,” Mari said, careful to keep her voice low, even though Brother Joseph was at the head of the group, many yards away from them, and still moving at a pace so brisk the Pack almost had to jog to keep up. “They don’t have a voice in the leadership of the village.”
“It is true none of them said so much as a word after Father John ordered them to stop trading,” said Adira.
Sora snorted. “It seems the leadership of their village isn’t all they don’t have a voice in—not if they have to be silent whenever that priest speaks.”
“That’s pretty much what Antreas told me about them. Men make the rules. Women obey. He said the women don’t believe they should have a say. They believe their priest knows best because he speaks to the Mother for them,” said Danita.
“But she’s a goddess. Why would they believe what she says must be interpreted by a man, and only a man?” Isabel said.
“Because that’s how they’ve been raised. Look at them—they’re prosperous, swathed in jewelry. Their children are healthy. I saw not one thin, sickly person in the entire village, and I asked if there was an infirmary that might need our help. There is not,” said Sora.
“Wait, no one in that village is sick or injured?” Mari said. “I find that hard to believe.”
“The woman I traded with said that they have a maternity lodge and midwives, but that they rarely need any other type of Healer. They insist they already have everything they need.” Sora shrugged. “Good for them, but I would not live silently.”
“Is it such a bad trade?” Adira said. “Compliance for safety and prosperity?”
“Safety and prosperity?” Jenna responded quickly. “It’s suppression and slavery. Shouldn’t the question be, Is it such a good trade: safety and prosperity”—her voice was thick with sarcasm—“for the freedom to have a say in their own lives, their own governing? How much different is that village from the floating cages the Tribe of the Trees locked us in?”
“Yeah, and how safe and prosperous are they going to be when the shadow tide Dove saw drowns them?” Isabel said. “They don’t get a voice in deciding what should be done about the vision, but they sure will pay the consequences for the decision that was made for them.”
“Do you want Wilkes and me to slip back into the village and try to warn someone else?” Nik said. “Maybe their response would be different if the vision was told by a man.”
“Father John said that if we mention the vision to any of the Saleesh people upriver he would find out and declare that we are not to be allowed passage,” Mari said grimly. “It might be selfish, but I’m not willing to risk our people on the outside chance someone will stand up against Father John.”
“How about I feel out Brother Joseph?” Nik said. “He’s younger. I’ll strike up a conversation about Dove’s vision, like I believe he already knows about it, and see what his response is.”
“That’s a good idea. But if he reacts like Father John back off right away,” Mari said.
“Oh, I will. I agree with you completely. We can’t risk our Pack for people who will not listen.” Nik jogged off toward the front of the group, with Laru padding silently beside him.
“Jenna, I understand your point, though I must say that I do not agree with it.” Adira spoke up as they watched Nik hurry toward Brother Joseph. “But you are very young, and you have not had to worry for your next meal and be terrified for your safety for decades.”
Jenna stopped and faced the older woman. She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “No. You cannot use my youth as a way of justifying that.” She pointed back at the village. “I’ve known hardship. My mother died. My father raised me—a father with Moon Fever. He was killed in front of me. I watched Tribesmen sink arrows into him as he tried to save me. Then I was enslaved. Not as long as you, but I’ve known captivity, and I’m telling you that believing you’re better off—safer—if someone else takes care of you and makes decisions for you is a step back into captivity. Not for me—never again for me.”
“Then we shall have to agree to disagree,” Adira said before she walked away, disappearing into the line of Earth Walkers following them.
“Is it immature of me to say that I’ll remember that Adira is fine with following orders as long as she thinks she’s being cared for next time I need an unpleasant job done?” Sora asked.
Mari held her response as Nik jogged back to them, his face grim.
“Father John told him the unchaste blind woman is not to be listened to, and that our Pack is doomed because we allow women to rule us,” Nik said.
“‘Allow!’” Sora almost spat the word. Her gray eyes found the back of Brother Joseph, and she looked as if she would like to push him off the trail to the white water that raged far below. “We are Moon Women! No one ‘allows’ us to lead. We are leaders.”
“And our men are not silent, subjugated shells,” Mari said.
“They are also not doomed to a terrible death because they will not see,” Dove said. “Pity them, Moon Women, and then release them from your minds. You cannot save people who do not wish to be saved.”
“Dove’s right. Let’s leave this place and these people to their ways,” Mari said.
“And to the consequences of their ways,” Sora added.
“And to the consequences of their ways,” Mari agreed.
“If Antreas doesn’t join us tonight, I’m going to take them all down,” Danita said grimly.
Mari put her arm around her friend. “You won’t have to. Do you really think Bast would be here beside you, relaxed and happy, if Antreas were in any danger?”
Danita grinned up at her, looking relieved and youthful. “Moon Woman, you are absolutely right. As long as Bast is fine, so am I.”
The Lynx punctuated Danita’s comments by purring contentedly.
CHAPTER 14
SIX MONTHS IN THE PAST—WINTER CAMP OF HERD MAGENTI—VALLEY OF VAPORS
River loved the winter camp. Of course winter had its dangers, and she would never underestimate the power of the elements, but it was difficult to worry much about snow and ice when Herd Magenti was snug and secure and warm. The Valley of Vapors was River’s favorite place in all of the Herd’s wide territory. The trek to get to it was always treacherous, and this year had been no exception. As they traveled through the narrow passage of the Quachita Mountains it had begun to snow, almost trapping the rear half of the Herd, but once they were through the pass and into the mountain valley, everything was green and growing again as the vast system of hot springs kept the valley perpetually verdant.
This was the only place in the Herd’s territory that th
ey inhabited any of the ruins of the long-dead ancients. Here the lofty marble and stone buildings that fronted several of the steaming springs were cared for lovingly by members of Herd Magenti who were not Riders. Those who had never been Chosen by a horse could decide if they wanted to live the nomadic life of a Wind Rider and move from camp to camp, or if they would rather remain at one of the Herd’s large campsites, keeping it in working order, planting and harvesting crops, and generally living a comfortable but stationary life. One of the most popular sites for permanent habitation was the Valley of Vapors. Herdmembers who lived in the valley year round kept vegetation cleared from the regal columns and high ceilings of mysterious, beautiful buildings that had been converted to stables and living quarters for the Herd to wait out the winter.
The valley wasn’t big, just barely large enough to hold the five combined branches of Herd Magenti, but no one minded being crowded. It was like they passed the winter in a bubble of springtime, surrounded by life-giving waters, while they slept inside marble palaces of the past.
River sat at the edge of one of the reservoirs that bubbled up from the side of the eastern ridge that framed the valley, her feet dangling just above the steaming water. She lazily braided her long, dark curls into one thick plait, smiling to herself about how the rising mist from the hot spring caused escaping locks of her hair to curl around her face. The humidity of the springs annoyed some of the girls and had them complaining about what it did to their hair, but since she had been a child River had embraced the thick riot of her black mane as beautiful and she loved that the springs gave her a halo of curls—whether she tried to tame it or not.
Once in a while she’d dip a toe into the aromatic water, but not for long. The thermal springs that heated the valley and drew an entire Herd through treacherous mountains were life giving and healing, but they were also so hot that they had to be diluted by the nearby lake water to be bearable to the touch.
