Rebel Heart

by Moira Young

  Yes, I whisper.

  Yes, he says.

  He lets go my hand. I cradle it to my chest. It throbs as the blood starts to flow. It’s gonna be bruised. Lugh goes over to have Emmi doctor his wound.

  They all bin watchin us. Nobody meets my eyes.

  Fine.

  Let him hate me.

  Let ’em all hate me. The most important thing is, I’m where I wanna be. Where I need to be. An that’s here. In Tonton territory. In New Eden. Headed fer the Lost Cause. Headed fer Jack.

  There’s only one trail leadin away from the Gap. It goes into the trees.

  I stick my knife in my boot, shoulder my bow an quiver an hang my waterskin on my belt. Then I whistle fer Nero an, with Tracker at my heels, I make fer the trail. When I git to th’others, I stop an says, I gotta make tracks. I gotta be at the Lost Cause by the full moon.

  That’s two nights from now, says Maev. You got no idea how far it is or where it is. It ain’t possible.

  I smile to myself. What would Jack say now? It ain’t impossible, I says. Nuthin’s impossible.

  You fergot Hermes, says Emmi.

  It’s my fault yer here, I says. That you lost yer gear an yer horses. I’m sorry about that. More sorry’n I can say. I’ll leave him an the rest of my stuff with you. You four can find another route outta here, back to the Snake. Head out west. Jack an me’ll find you.

  You cain’t go on foot, says Maev.

  I’ll steal a horse along the way, I says. See yuz.

  We squeeze along the path, me an Tracker. I duck unner low-hangin branches. Growth crowds in from both sides. It don’t look like nobody passes this way much. Nero flits from branch to branch.

  Wait up! Maev comes crashin after me. Mind if I tag along? she says.

  You ain’t got no love fer Jack, I says.

  He’s a gawdamn know-it-all, she says.

  So’m I, I says. So’re you, fer that matter.

  Ezzackly, she says, he reminds too much of myself.

  What he said to you, Maev, that was the message, I says. You’ve lost an yer the cause of it. So full of pride. You should of seen us comin by the moon, had more’n three on watch. It means, meet me at the Lost Cause at the next full moon. The rule of three.

  Huh, she says. Smart. Well, yer set on goin an here we are. I ain’t gonna let you go by yerself. There may well be more to this Jack thing than meets the eye. Anyways, she says – her tone oh-so-casual – I got me some vengeance to wreak with the Tonton.

  An there it is, the real reason she wants to come with me.

  I wish you’d speak to Lugh about Jack, I says. When I do, he don’t hear what I say.

  You don’t git it, do you? she says. The way he sees it, while he was weak an helpless, Jack stole what belonged to him. You.

  I stop. Turn to stare at her. Nobody stole me, I says. Lugh don’t own me.

  Try tellin him that, she says. An while yer at it, tell yerself.

  I’ll tell you to shut the hell up, I says. I go on, shovin my way along the overgrown path.

  We better find some horses quick, she says. Two days ain’t long to git to a place when you don’t know where it is.

  Saba! Emmi comes runnin after us. Lugh says you gotta come back, she cries. He says we gotta talk things over, make a plan.

  He’s got a tongue in his head, he can tell me hisself, I says.

  Oh, he ain’t speakin to you. She joins in behind Maev. Where’re we goin?

  The path comes outta the trees. We’re standin on a little ridge. The land sprawls in front of us. What used to be a wooded plain with lakes, an mountains in the far distance. But the trees got some kinda blight – they’re jest dried red sticks, trunks, branches, needles an all. Sad memories of trees, that’s all they are now. The remains of Wrecker light towers here an there. We can see the trail cuttin pretty much straight across. One road only. Headed one way. East.

  I dunno where yer goin, I says. But I’m goin that way.

  Hey! Lugh shouts from the trees behind us. Hey! He barrels up to me, his face a black cloud. Tommo’s like a worried dog at his heels, leadin Hermes along.

  I thought you warn’t speakin to me, I says.

  I ain’t, he says. An you ain’t takin another step till we got a plan.

  I start to move down the ridge. Tracker an Maev follow. I got a plan, I says. I’m goin to the Lost Cause.

  You got no idea where it is, says Lugh. It could be anywhere.

  It’s in the storm belt, I says. Lilith told me. Anyways, I didn’t know where you was, but I managed to find you okay.

  That’s true, says Emmi.

  Lugh stands at the top of the ridge, hands on his hips. He glares down at me an Maev. We keep on goin. You ain’t got no horses, he calls.

  We’ll git us some! We’ll steal us some! I call back to him. Go back to the Snake, Lugh. Take Hermes an Emmi an Tommo. Go back. I got a price on my head, I ain’t safe company.

  I knew there was a reason I liked you, says Maev.

  We slip-slide through some scree the last few foot to the bottom of the ridge. We start runnin the moment we hit flat ground. Lugh’s angry shout follows us. Saba! Come back here right now! Saba!

  We set off across the plain, at a run.

  Tracker feels it first. The rumble of hoofs behind us. We ain’t bin runnin more’n a few minutes. He stops, looks back the way we jest come. He barks. Me an Maev stop too. Dammit anyways, I says.

  Don’t pretend yer surprised, she says.

  Nero lands on my shoulder. We wait.

  I don’t want ’em to come. Truly I don’t. It ’ud be best fer everybody if they jest did what I told ’em to.

  Hermes gallops into view. He’s got Emmi an Tommo on his back.

  Saba! yells Emmi. Maev!

  Hermes trots up an pushes his nose at my head.

  Where is he? I says.

  He’s comin, says Tommo. He says he ain’t bloody runnin.

  They stare at me. I stare at them. They don’t look happy. I don’t s’pose I do.

  We’re comin with you, says Emmi.

  You don’t say, I says.

  We walk east in silence.

  Lugh’s decided to stick with bein mad at me. It’s like travellin with a storm cloud. One of them ones that hangs low an heavy. The kind that builds an broods an keeps on buildin an broodin till everybody’s got a sick headache. I ignore him. Me an Maev keep the pace fast. Emmi rides on Hermes. Tommo keeps in with Lugh.

  We gotta git some transport soon. But we don’t meet nobody. No sight of no homesteads or settlements. Jest this endless forest of dead red trees.

  Emmi tries to make cheery conversation with one or other of us. But she only gits a grunt or silence in reply, an it ain’t long before she gives up. By mid-mornin, we bin walkin at least five hours. Lugh’s the first to break.

  We’ll git us some horses! He says it in that sarcastical voice of his that I hate. We’ll steal some! Gee, Saba, what horses should we take? There’s so many to choose from!

  Shut up, I says.

  You shut up, he says. You an yer stupid ideas.

  If it’s so stupid, then why’re you here? I says. Why’d you come, Lugh?

  Becuz yer gonna find out that I’m right about Jack, he says. An when you do, yer gonna need me to pick you up offa the ground.

  Go to hell, I says.

  Don’t need to, he says. I’m already there.

  Midday. A fierce orange sun fries the land. We come to a crossroads with a couple of crabby old sourfruit trees. They’re about the only livin things we’ve seen since startin on this road. We argue the toss over which way to go. While they’re still at it, I strike out east. Always east.

  Somebody’s yellin. Lugh. I break stride. Stop an turn around. He’s still at the crossroads, wavin his arms over his head an
shoutin at me. We glare at each other long distance. At last, with a curse, I trot back to see what’s what.

  Everybody’s sat or flopped down in the shade of the trees.

  What’re you doin? I says. C’mon, git up!

  I’m callin a rest, says Lugh. We’re tired an hungry an thirsty. You are too, if you’d only admit it. But yer so damn stubborn, you’d sooner walk yerself to death.

  We ain’t got time, I says.

  Too bad, he says.

  All right, I says, but five minutes. No more.

  I’ll say when, he says.

  I’ll say when! says Maev. Fergawdsake.

  I throw Lugh a look. I don’t sit. I give my hot face an sweaty neck a swipe with my kercheef. Tommo shares out the eatables from my saddlebags. Dried deer strips, a few twists of berry jerky an a handful of hazelnuts. He portions out half an puts the rest aside fer later. It makes a poor meal, hardly worth the effort of chewin, but we do. I give Tracker my deer strip, but the other two beasts gotta settle fer what there is. Hermes tears at the sad-lookin grass. Nero nibbles the wormy sourfruit.

  A gritty hotwind blows from the south. The sky’s white an sharp an melts into heavy walls. Nobody speaks. We pull our sheemas low. Rub fat into our dry lips.

  I pace back an forth. A naggin little voice starts up inside me. Pretty soon, it’s shoutin so loud I’m surprised nobody else can hear it.

  Go! it yells. Go! Go! Go! Jack’s in trouble. He needs you. Take off on Hermes. Now! They cain’t stop you. Go on, do it!

  It’s shameful. I know it. It’s my fault they’re here. It’s me that’s put ’em all in danger, nobody else. Still.

  Go on! Take off! What’re they gonna do, shoot you?

  Don’t even think about it, says Lugh.

  Huh? I says.

  What yer thinkin about doin, he says. You think I dunno what yer thinkin, but yer thinkin it so loud, I can hear you thinkin it. Don’t even think about it.

  I ain’t thinkin about nuthin, I says.

  Oh, yes, you are, he says.

  Am not.

  Are too.

  Hey! I glare at him. I know very well what’s goin on in my own head. Too bad some other people I know cain’t say the same.

  What’s that s’posed to mean? he says.

  Would you shut up? says Maev. Jest shut up! Yer drivin us all crazy!

  What’s the matter with Tommo? says Emmi.

  He’s dropped into a crouch on the trail. Laid his hands flat on the ground. He looks up. Wheels, he says. From the north. A wagon, headed this way. An a horse or maybe—

  I grab his arm. How many horses, Tommo? How many?

  One, he says. I think one. An a wagon.

  Is it the Tonton? says Emmi.

  They don’t usually travel alone, says Maev.

  The north road bends outta sight through the red tree forest. That’s the way they’re gonna come from. We look around fer cover. The two sourfruit trees. Scattered boulders. A light tower. There’s one big slab of rock that stands between the crossroads an the bend in the north road. Whoever’s comin, they’re gonna hafta pass right by it.

  I’m lookin at Maev. She’s lookin at me.

  Let’s do it, she says.

  Do what? says Lugh.

  I’m game, I says to Maev.

  Game fer what? says Lugh. What’re you talkin about?

  We need transport, says Maev, we’re gonna git us some transport. On my signal, Saba an Lugh grab the horse. Tommo an Emmi cover the rear. I’ll take care of the driver. If I don’t like the look of it, we don’t go. Okay, everybody outta sight. Weapons ready. Move on my word.

  While she’s bin talkin, she’s swung herself onto Hermes an yanked her sheema down to her eyes. Now she pulls her kercheef up to cover her mouth an nose.

  Hang on, says Lugh. There could be one horse, there could be ten.

  Not ten, says Tommo.

  Five then! We got no idea how many. We dunno who it is. You cain’t jest go rushin at things without thinkin it through. We need to talk about this! He grabs Hermes’ bridle.

  Maev yanks down her kercheef. No, you need to listen, she says. This ain’t Silverlake, an you ain’t the daddy. Out here in the real world, the person who knows what they’re doin is the daddy an right now, that’s me. So. Do like daddy says an shift that tasty butt of yers. Unless, of course, you want it shot off.

  She heels Hermes an they gallop into position behind the rock slab. I yank Lugh behind a boulder. He’s red-faced. Tight lipped. His eyes spit blue fire.

  Who does she think she is? he says. Hell, I don’t even know what she’s talkin about – I ain’t the daddy. I tell you, I am sick to death of bossy women an that includes you.

  You ever hijacked before? I says. Stole a horse?

  You know I never! But that ain’t the point, the—

  The point is to git to the Lost Cause by the full moon, I says. The point is that Maev knows what she’s doin. Highway robbery, hijackin an horse stealin, that’s her business.

  An my business is keepin us alive, he says. You an me an Emmi. Th’other two can go hang fer all I care. I don’t believe you, Saba. We was on our way to a good life. We had it in our sights. Now look at us.

  C’mon, I says, you gotta admit this is excitin.

  Not in my book, it ain’t, he says.

  Not like takin chaal, huh? I says. Not like what you got up to with that Meg?

  I win with that shot. He looks away. Busies hisself coverin his face with his sheema an kercheef.

  I do the same. We wait. Whoever it is, they ain’t travellin fast.

  But the slow rumble of wheels gits louder. Louder still. I keep watch from behind our boulder. My belly’s tight with anticipation. A yellow cart lumbers into view. It’s bein pulled by—

  It’s a gawdamn camel! hisses Lugh.

  A fleabit wreck of a camel, shamblin along in front of the rickety cart.

  The driver’s singin. As he gits closer, we can hear the words.

  She was queen of my heart all that summer

  But when green leafs was turnin to gold

  She slipped from my arms as a new day dawned

  An left my heart broken an cold.

  They’re nearly on us.

  Heeya! yells Maev. She heels Hermes. They dash onto the trail, in front of the cart. Hermes rears, squealin. Maev grips with her knees, a bolt shooter in each hand.

  The driver hauls mightily on the reins. Whoa! he yells. Whoa there, Moses!

  The camel bellows. He tramples an shies as he tries to avoid Hermes. Me an Lugh grab at his reins. Dust flies everywhere. The cart rocks, tips, then starts to settle. The driver reaches towards his feet.

  Hands up or I’ll shoot! shouts Maev.

  He freezes. He sits up slowly, raisin his hands over his head.

  Meantime, me an Lugh’s bin draggin on the camel’s bridle with all our weight. He resists, hollerin an spittin an rollin his eyes. Suddenly, without warnin, he sits down. We go flyin. But we’re right back up, on our feet, grabbin our bows. We aim at the driver.

  The cart’s a high-sided wooden box, painted bright yellow, with suns an moons an stars all over. It’s a ramshackle effort, lashed up with ropes an chains. It leans to one side. Two lanterns hang at the front. There’s a little door at the back.

  Tommo throws it open an checks inside. All clear, he calls to Maev.

  She smiles at the driver. Stand an deliver, she says.

  The driver stares at us. We stare at him.

  He’s a one-eyed, big-bellied, bald-headed old coot. With a filthy eyepatch, bushy sidewhiskers an a neck like a bullfrog. He’s wearin a pink lady dress.

  This is a hijack, sir, says Maev. We’ll be takin yer cart an yer camel.

  An if I say no? His voice creaks, like a rusted hinge.

 
Then I kill you, she says. We still take yer cart an yer camel but you won’t be wavin us off. Climb on down. My associate here’ll be happy to help you. We got you covered, so don’t try nuthin.

  She motions with her shooter to Lugh. He blasts her with a tight-lipped glare. But he shoulders his bow an gives his hand to the driver.

  The old fella’s bulky. He wheezes an grimaces as he squeezes hisself out from the driver’s bench. As he climbs down, he leans on Lugh so heavy that they nearly collapse in a heap. I find the driver’s firestick an toss it to Tommo.

  Maev’s jumped offa Hermes. Search him, she tells Lugh.

  Do it yerself, he says.

  The driver grins. Mutiny in the ranks, eh?

  Shut up, I says. I pat him down. He’s clean, I says.

  You ever handled a camel before? he says.

  His name’s Moses, right? says Maev. We’ll take good care of him, sir, don’t worry.

  Oh, I ain’t worried, he says.

  See what he’s got in the rig, she tells me.

  Beggin yer pardon, sister, he says, but the Cosmic Compendalorium ain’t no ordinary rig. If you’ll allow me—?

  Make it snappy, she says.

  The cart opens on both sides. He unties the right-side rope. Scuttles back as it swings down with a crash. It’s a big cupboard, with shelves an drawers, crammed full of bottles an tins an jars of all descriptions an sizes.

  A quack van, I says.

  The driver counts off his stock briskly. Curatives, restoratives, prevellatives an laxatives, he says. Embarkations, emolluments an emetics. Oils an ointments, teas an tonics, powders an potions an pills. He takes a deep breath an goes on. I’ll leech you, purge you, shave yer corns, test yer stools an worm yer guts. I cut hair, set bones, pull teeth an lance boils. I provide a complete eyecare service with a wide selection of spectaculars, an marriage guidance on a confidentiality basis. Doctor Salmo Slim, TPS. That’s Travellatin Physician an Surgeon.

  Like I said, a quack. I lift the side an tie it back into place.

  Excuse me! He draws hisself up. You imprune my honour, sister. I come from a long line of medical perfessionals, startin with the legendary Sasaparilla Slim, way back in Babalingian times.