by P. C. Cast
“Thank the Sun,” Nik muttered.
“Don’t forget that the current will be with us all the way across the lake,” Antreas said. “It shifts here.” He nodded out at the seething water.
“It’s so strange.” Nik stared out at the island-sized whirlpool. “I wonder how it happened?”
“The story I’ve heard told is that one of the great earthquakes that toppled cities ripped apart the dam that was here, and when it did it tore the earth with a sound like a million people screaming. Water spouted from the earth, creating the whirlpools and altering the course of the river. The water that came from the earth spewed eastward, covering entire cities and drowning everyone in its path.”
“Which means more ghosts, I’m sure,” Sora said.
“Spirits have never bothered me during a crossing,” Antreas said. “I can tell you, I’d rather deal with ghosts than the Mouths and Monkeys that are all too real and haunt any area of the lake that has exposed ruins or is close to one of the green islands.”
Danita shivered. “‘Mouths and Monkeys.’ Those names are disgusting.”
“They fit the creatures well. The Mouths are mostly just that—fish with gigantic mouths.”
“And they can really swallow a child whole?” Mari asked.
“Or a canine—or Lynx.” Antreas shot Bast a glance. She hissed, clearly showing her dislike of the Mouths. “I didn’t exaggerate.”
“The Monkeys work with them, but they’re land animals?” Nik said.
“They were land animals that somehow survived when the cities were flooded. Now they’re more amphibious, though you can tell that they’re mammals. They give birth to live young and they nurse them, even though they’ve developed webbed feet and toes and gills in their necks. Their swimming skills put the big, clumsy Mouths to shame. And they’re smart. Really smart. They have to be to have formed a partnership with the Mouths.”
“You almost sound like you like them,” Danita said.
“Oh, I can’t stand them. They’re dangerous nuisances. But I do have a healthy respect for their abilities. They serve as bait for the Mouths’ prey. They float low in the water, with only their faces above the surface. They can imitate almost anything. I’ve heard them sound like a crying child, several types of distressed birds, and once even a Lynx.”
Bast hissed again.
“But the point to their cries isn’t to draw the Mouths, right?” Mari asked, trying to remember all the information Antreas had been sharing with them for almost the past two weeks in preparation for crossing Lost Lake.
“No, they don’t need to call the Mouths. The Monkeys are only found in the waters around city ruins that are above water because that’s where the Mouths hunt. They mimic creatures in distress to draw others to them. When they’re successful they’re very successful. For instance, the Monkeys begin calling like they’re seagulls blown off course and floundering with weakness. Other gulls come to investigate and the Mouths rise to the surface, using their long, tentacle-like whiskers like rope. They have incredible control over them. I’ve seen Mouths shoot their tentacles out of the water and into the air, wrap around a gull, and pull it under so quickly the other gulls didn’t even realize what happened.”
“And the Monkeys feed on the scraps,” Nik said.
“Exactly. They also steal things. Whenever we have to cross over a city with ruins partially above water, everyone will have to be on alert. The Mouths are completely carnivorous, but the Monkeys eat anything. They will be trying to steal our plants and supplies.”
“And our puppies,” Sora said grimly, wrapping her arms around Chloe and holding her so tightly the pup whimpered.
“Yes. The Monkeys would definitely steal a pup, and the Mouths could eat a canine—even a Shepherd—whole.”
“And we’re completely sure crossing Lost Lake is a good idea?” Nik asked.
“We can cross the lake in fifty days—even less if the weather cooperates. If we went around the lake it would take us at least twice that. There’s no way we’d make the mountain crossing before winter closes the passes,” said Antreas.
“We don’t have any choice,” Mari said. “Even if we wanted to wait the winter out in a temporary camp at the foot of the mountains, Dove’s vision says something bad is coming to the Saleesh, and they are entirely too close to Lost Lake.”
“I know. I’m with you. I just had to ask,” Nik said.
“Again,” Antreas said with a half smile.
“Yeah, well, I don’t like water.”
“Really, my friend? I don’t think you’ve mentioned that before,” Antreas said sarcastically, breaking the tension talking of Mouths and Monkeys had caused as everyone around Nik chuckled.
It took most of the morning for the Pack to walk past the sucking maelstrom that hundreds of years before had been a functioning dam, and they arrived at the last Saleesh village when the sun was almost directly overhead. This village hadn’t been built on top of a high bank, as were the other Saleesh settlements. Instead it spread out around the entry to Lost Lake and was almost as large as Father John’s village. It, too, was tidy and prosperous—filled with women laying out trade goods and children playing among their Teteplate nannies.
The statues to the Mother were particularly beautiful. The main public altar was in the center of the village market. Candles were lit all around her feet, and her body was swathed in a beautiful blue wrap that had been covered with shells. Incense wafted from braziers dangling from the porches of well-cared-for houses.
The Pack’s cluster of boats was already there, docked in the calm beach at the mouth of Lost Lake just beyond the center marketplace.
“After you place your offering at the feet of the Mother you may make trade with our women, but do not dally. I am quite certain you will want to be well on your way before sunset,” announced Father Job as the Pack paused in the center of the market.
Mari had noticed that since Dove’s exchange with Father John, the village priests had been decidedly short with the Pack, though each of them had opened their market to the travelers. Antreas had explained that the Saleesh had a swift messenger system. They used the river, often at night, to glide up and down from village to village, passing information and trade goods—and Father John had definitely warned his people to make short work of helping the Pack.
While the Pack made a show of looking at the market goods, Mari and Sora went to the central statue of the Mother. Sora placed a newly woven basket at the idol’s feet. She’d gathered long grass found beside one of their early river stops. It had a beautiful blue tint and Adira, one of the most talented weavers in the Pack, had woven into the lovely green basket a blue image that looked remarkably like the idols the Saleesh cherished.
“That is spectacular,” Father Job exclaimed. “A most worthy offering.” He even nodded his head in a small bow. “I do wish our women had this skill.”
“Well, in all fairness, many of us are from a Clan called Weaver,” Sora said, not unkindly. “We have been weaving baskets for countless generations.”
“Perhaps I will speak with your men about the possibility of one of your women remaining with us. She would have a comfortable home and be well cared for—and her arduous journey would be at an end.”
“Men do not lead our Pack,” Mari said. “Sora and I do.”
The priest’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Ah, I had forgotten your strange way of doing things.”
“And to answer your question—no. None of our women would like to remain here. Our women prefer to rule themselves.” Sora raised her voice so that the Saleesh women in the marketplace turned their heads to listen. “Though we would be happy to offer any of your women a place with us—and with us they would also have a voice.”
The priest drew himself up to his full height and glared down at Mari and Sora. “Our women have a voice.”
“Really? Let’s test that, shall we?” Mari said. From across the marketplace she met Nik’s gaze and nodded. She watched
for just a moment as he spoke to Sheena and Wilkes—and they began passing word through the Pack, who immediately stopped their pretense of shopping and headed for their beached boats.
“What do you mean, young woman?” Father Job asked.
“Come on. We’ll show you on our way out of your village,” Sora said, grinning like she was having a wonderful time.
Scowling, the priest followed them as Mari and Sora walked quickly through the marketplace until they reached their gathered Pack. Then they turned to face Father Job and the curious Saleesh women, who must have been wondering why their trading had been interrupted.
Lily led Dove up to stand beside Mari. Nik moved to her other side. Sora stood beside him, with O’Bryan next to her. Wilkes, Claudia, Sheena, Jaxom, Mason, Rose, and the rest of the Pack spread out in a crescent-shaped group, canines beside them and their backs to the boats, facing the village.
“This is Dove,” Mari said, lifting her voice so that it carried across the market. “She has no eyes, but the Goddess gives her visions. She has seen the destruction of the Saleesh people.” Mari ignored the priest, who was already blustering for her to be silent and calling for his “Brothers” to come to him.
Mari focused on the Saleesh women, who were staring at her with eyes wide with shock. “But you are not doomed. Dove’s vision showed that if you leave your village for one complete passing of the seasons you may return and continue to live in safety. We tried to warn you back at the first Saleesh village, but Father John refused to listen—or to share what Dove saw with the women of the village. If any of you would like to join us, we would welcome you, and if you would like to ask about—”
“We do not listen to the hysterical words of women or children!” Father Job’s face was florid and spittle flecked his lips as he shouted over Mari. Then his gaze found Wilkes and Adira—the two oldest members of the Pack. He focused on Wilkes. “You there, are you going to allow children and women to lead you?”
The corners of Wilkes’s lips turned up. He crossed his arms and studied Father Job as if he’d never seen a priest before. Then his answer echoed in the listening silence.
“I respect Mari and Sora. They are far better leaders than those we left behind at the Tribe of the Trees—who were all men. Who better to be led by than young people? They are our future. If you can’t see that, then perhaps it’s time you became extinct.”
As the priest sputtered Mari met Nik’s gaze and nodded. As they’d already decided, Nik stepped forward and addressed the priest, speaking clearly so that the listening women were sure to hear.
“If you will not listen to Mari, then maybe you’ll listen to the words of a man—a fellow priest. I am Nikolas, Son of Sol, Sun Priest for the Pack. Dove’s vision is true, and the reason I believe her isn’t hysteria. It’s logic. Dove knows she has a safe home with us. We didn’t invite her to join us because she is a Seer. We had no idea about her abilities when we accepted her. We invited a refugee to join us. Dove doesn’t need to lie to be respected and treated like an equal among us.”
“That only means she’s secure to say or do anything without repercussions,” Father Job scoffed.
“I am not secure to say or do anything.” Dove stepped up beside Nik, her hand reaching out and finding his arm, which he offered to her. She continued in a voice that filled the marketplace. “The one condition the Pack had for me at my joining was that I give my oath that I will never lie. If I break that oath I lose my place among these good people I have come to care so very much about. I can assure you that I would not say anything that put my home with the Pack in jeopardy.”
“A woman’s words are as changeable as the wind.” The priest waved Dove away.
“Then consider this,” Nik said. “What does Dove—what do any of us—have to gain by telling you to leave your villages? It has caused us all sorts of problems with your people. Right now we know that you will probably not help any of us pass this way again should we desire to return to our forest. It would have been easier for Dove not to speak—and it would definitely have been better for our Pack if we’d silenced her.” Nik stared down at Dove’s open, honest face with sudden realization. “There is no reason not to trust Dove except for ignorance, arrogance, or prejudice. I trust her.” Nik looked up, meeting the gaze of the women who had not fled the marketplace. “Mari and Sora, our spectacular Moon Women leaders, offered you sanctuary with us. That offer stands. We will accept any of you who wish to leave and live.”
“Our women are going nowhere! Brothers! To me!” Father Job bellowed.
Young men wearing long, belted robes and carrying barbed lances rushed through the marketplace to line up beside the priest, effectively blocking any woman who wanted to leave. With one gesture from Father Job, they raised their spears at the Pack.
As one, the Pack drew their weapons. Some of them held loaded crossbows. Some hefted slingshots and began twirling them, so that the air was suddenly filled with the humming of angry bees.
And then the canines and Bast stepped forward—each one of them growling deep and baring their teeth menacingly.
The line of Brothers faltered—their faces paling at the might of the Pack.
“Women! Call out if you wish to join us!” Mari shouted.
“We will grant you sanctuary!” Sora cried.
Mari tried to make eye contact with the Saleesh women, as well as their Teteplate servants, though the majority of them had fled the marketplace with the children as soon as Mari began speaking. It broke her heart, but what she saw in the women’s eyes ranged from irritation and disbelief to a kind of nothingness—like they were unable to think for themselves.
Then one Saleesh woman stood and with a surety echoed by the woman closest to her, and then the rest of the women in the marketplace, she turned her back on Mari and the Pack—utterly rejecting them.
Disgusted, Mari shook her head and faced Father Job. “It seems your women have too long allowed others to think for them. But should that change”—Mari lifted her voice again and kept peering through the line of Brothers at the women, who had all begun to leave the marketplace, their backs turned to the Pack—“should you wish more out of life than being treated like cosseted children, follow us. We will grant you sanctuary and you will know a life of—”
“Leave this place! I never want to see any of your faces again!” Father Job roared.
“Oh, you will not.” Dove’s sweet voice cut through the marketplace. She was perfectly serene as she spoke the priest’s death sentence. “Father Job, very soon you will see no living faces ever again—and all who follow you will suffer the same fate.”
“She threatens me!” the priest sputtered.
“No, I do not threaten. I prophesy. I would pity you were you not leading so many into darkness.”
“Blind bitch!” Father Job curled his lips and spat at Dove.
“That’s it. Let’s go,” Mari said, and the Pack immediately started back to their boats.
“I wonder what happened to those women. Why are they like that?” Jenna asked as she helped push her boat off the beach.
Adira spoke up. “They chose security over freedom. I was wrong before to have thought that was a good trade.”
The women of the Pack nodded grimly in agreement.
After almost two weeks of practice, the launching process was quick and efficient, and soon they were skimming over the placid lake, leaving the angry, doomed Saleesh in the distance.
PRESENT DAY—TRIBE OF THE TREES
Ralina hadn’t thought she’d be able to sleep at all that night, but moving from the soggy, open ground and a makeshift fern-roofed shelter to a nest—even a nest that smelled of smoke and sadness—lulled her into the first full night of sleep she’d had in weeks. She was shocked when she woke slowly, well after dawn, snuggled with Bear, warm and safe high in the trees. For several sleepy breaths Ralina was transported back to a time before disease and Death destroyed her beloved Tribe, and she woke filled with warmth and cont
entment.
Then her stomach growled, waking her memory, and she sat with a sigh, rubbing her eyes as Bear stirred and then stretched before nuzzling her good morning.
Ralina hugged him, hating how many of his ribs she could feel through his thick coat. The God and his Reapers had destroyed all of the rabbit warrens, slaughtering the breeding stock for soup pots. Recently, Ralina and Bear had made the decision together that he would not eat poisoned meat. At first it had seemed as if canines were immune to the horrible skin-sloughing disease, but after a week of eating tainted game, Shepherds and Terriers were falling ill—except those whose flesh their Companions had already flayed for The Cure.
Ralina would never, ever do that.
Instead, she had been surviving by eating only berries and a stew she made from mushrooms and greens, with some wapato roots added when she managed to find time to dig for them. Ralina had also hidden a fishing line and hooks near the Channel, and as often as possible she snuck to the water and caught a few fish, which she gave to Bear.
“You know what? Let’s leave this nest and go to the Channel right now. The God will be preoccupied as soon as He discovers Dax is gone—and I don’t think He’ll want me to document the fact that a Lynx guide was so horrified by what has happened here that he broke oath and snuck away in the night.”
Bear’s bushy tail was wagging with eagerness as they made their way to the lift which would take them to the forest floor, when Hunters suddenly rushed past, heading toward the God’s tree.
“They know he’s gone,” she whispered to Bear as the lift touched down. She and her Companion were just stepping to the forest floor when Iron Fist rushed up.
“Storyteller! My Lord commands your presence!” he snapped at her before he rushed away.
She looked at Bear and sighed. “Maybe you should stay here. I’ll get away as soon as I can and we’ll forage for something to eat.”
The big Shepherd’s response was immediate. He pushed against her mind with a definitive No and pressed himself to her side.
