Dreamsnake

by Vonda N. McIntyre

  “Melissa, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it—” But Melissa was asleep or unconscious again. Snake held her as the last of the light faded away. She could hear the dreamsnakes’ scales on the damp slick rocks. She imagined again that they were coming closer, approaching her in a solid aggressive wave. For the first time in her life she felt afraid of serpents. Then, to reassure herself when the noises seemed to close in, she reached out to feel the bare stone. Her hand plunged into a mass of sleek scales, writhing bodies. She jerked back as a constellation of tiny stinging points spread across her arm. The dreamsnakes were seeking warmth, but if she let them find what they needed they would find her daughter as well. She shrank back into the narrow end of the crevasse. Her numb hand closed involuntarily around a heavy chunk of sharp volcanic rock. She lifted it clumsily, ready to smash it down on the wild dreamsnakes.

  Snake lowered her hand and willed her fingers open. The rock clattered away, among other rocks. A dreamsnake slid across her wrist. She could no more destroy them than she could float out of the crevasse on the cold, thick air. Not even for Melissa. A hot tear rolled down her cheek. When it reached her chin it felt like ice. There were too many dreamsnakes to protect Melissa against, yet North was right. Snake could not kill them.

  Desperate, she pushed herself to her feet, using the crevasse wall as support and wedging herself into the narrow space. Melissa was small for her age, and still very thin, but her limp weight seemed immense. Snake’s cold hands were too numb to keep a secure grip, and she could hardly feel the rocks beneath her bare feet. But she could feel the dreamsnakes coiling around her ankles. Melissa slipped in her arms, and Snake clutched at her with her right hand. The pain shot through her shoulder and up and down her spine. She managed to brace herself between the converging rock walls, and to hold Melissa above the serpents.

  Chapter 12

  The cultivated fields and well-built houses of Mountainside lay far behind Arevin at the end of his third day’s travel south. The road was now a trail, rising and falling along the edges of successive mountains, leading now casually through a pleasant valley, now precariously across scree. The country grew higher and wilder. Arevin’s stolid horse plodded on.

  No one had passed him all day, in either direction. He could easily be overtaken by anyone else traveling south: anyone who knew the trail better, anyone who had a destination, would surely catch and pass him. But he remained alone. He felt chilled by the mountain air, enclosed and oppressed by the mountains’ sheer walls and the dark overhanging trees. He was conscious of the beauty of the countryside, but the beauty he was used to was that of his homeland’s arid plains and plateaus. He was homesick, but he could not go home. He had the proof of his own eyes that the eastern desert’s storms were more powerful than those in the west, but the difference was one of quantity rather than kind. A western storm killed unprotected creatures in twenty breaths; an eastern one would do it in ten. He must stay in the mountains until spring.

  He could not simply wait, at the healers’ station or in Mountainside. If he did nothing but wait, his imagination would overpower his conviction that Snake was alive. And if he began to believe she was dead: that was dangerous, not only to his sanity but to Snake herself. Arevin knew he could not perform magic any more than Snake could, magical as her accomplishments might appear, but he was afraid to imagine her death.

  She was probably safe in the underground city, gathering new knowledge that would atone for the actions of Arevin’s cousin. Arevin reflected that Stavin’s younger father was lucky he did not have to pay for his terror himself. Lucky for him, unlucky for Snake. Arevin wished he had good news to give her when he did find her. But all he would be able to say was, “I have explained, I have tried to make your people understand my people’s fear. But they gave me no answer: they want to see you. They want you to go home.”

  At the edge of a meadow, thinking he heard something, he stopped his horse. The silence was a presence of its own, all around him, subtly different from the silence of a desert.

  Have I begun imagining sounds, now, he wondered, as well as her touch in the night?

  But then, from the trees ahead, he heard again the vibrations of animals’ hooves. A small herd of delicate mountain deer appeared, trotting across the glade toward him, their twig-thin legs flashing white, long supple necks arched high. Compared to the huge musk oxen Arevin’s clan herded, the fragile deer were like toys. They were nearly silent; it was the horses of their herders that had alerted him. His horse, lonely for its own kind, neighed.

  The herders, waving, cantered up to him and pulled their mounts to flamboyant stops. They were both youngsters, with sun-bronzed skin and short-cut pale blond hair, kin by the look of them. At Mountainside Arevin had felt out of place in his desert robes, but that was because people mistook him for the crazy. He had not thought it necessary to change his manner of dress after he made his intentions clear. But now, the two children looked at him for a moment, looked at each other, and grinned. He began to wonder if he should have purchased new clothes. But he had little money and he did not wish to use it for what was not absolutely necessary.

  “You’re a long way from the trade routes,” the older herder said. His tone was not belligerent but matter-of-fact. “Need any help?”

  “No,” Arevin said. “But I thank you.” Their deer herd milled around him, the animals making small sounds of communion with each other, more like birds than hoofed creatures. The younger herder gave a sudden whoop and waved her arms. The deer scattered in all directions. Another difference between this herd and the one Arevin kept: a musk ox’s response to a human on horseback flailing their arms would be to amble over and see what the fun was.

  “Gods, Jean, you’ll scare off everything from here to Mountainside.” But he did not seem perturbed about the deer, and in fact they reassembled into a compact group a little way down the trail. Arevin was struck again by the willingness to reveal personal names in this country, but he supposed he had better get used to it.

  “Can’t talk with the beasties underfoot,” she said, and smiled at Arevin. “It’s good to see another human face after looking at nothing but trees and deer. And my brother.”

  “Have you seen no one else on the trail, then?” That was more a statement than a question. If Snake had returned from Center and the herders had overtaken her, it would have made much more sense for them all to travel together.

  “Why? You looking for someone?” The young man sounded suspicious, or perhaps just wary. Could he have met Snake after all? Arevin, too, might ask impertinent questions of a stranger in order to safeguard a healer. And he would do considerably more than that for Snake.

  “Yes,” he said. “A healer. A friend. Her horse is a gray, and she has a tiger-pony as well, and a child riding with her. She would be coming north, back from the desert.”

  “She’s not, though.”

  “Jean!”

  Jean scowled at her brother. “Kev, he doesn’t look like anybody who would hurt her. Maybe he needs her for somebody sick.”

  “And maybe he’s friends with that crazy,” the brother said. “Why are you looking for her?”

  “I’m a friend of the healer,” Arevin said again, alarmed. “Did you see the crazy? Is Snake safe?”

  “This one’s all right,” Jean said to Kev.

  “He didn’t answer my question.”

  “He said he was her friend. Maybe it’s none of your business.”

  “No, your brother has the right to question me,” Arevin said. “And perhaps the obligation. I’m looking for Snake because I told her my name.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Kev!” Jean said, shocked.

  Arevin smiled for the first time since meeting these two. He was growing used to abrupt customs. “That is not something I would tell either of you,” he said pleasantly.

  Kev scowled in embarrassment.

  “We do know better,” Jean said. “It’s just all this time out here away from
people.”

  “Snake is coming back,” Arevin said, his voice a little strained with excitement and joy. “You saw her. How long ago?”

  “Yesterday,” Kev said. “But she isn’t coming this way.”

  “She’s going south,” Jean said.

  “South!”

  Jean nodded. “We were up here getting the herd before it snows. We met her when we came down from high pasture. She bought one of the pack horses for the crazy to ride.”

  “But why is she with the crazy? He attacked her! Are you sure he was not forcing her to go with him?”

  Jean laughed. “No, Snake was in control. No doubt about that.”

  Arevin did not doubt her, so he could put aside the worst of his fear. But he was still uneasy. “South,” he said. “What lies south of here? I thought there were no towns.”

  “There aren’t. We come about as far as anybody. We were surprised to see her. Hardly anybody uses that pass, even coming from the city. But she didn’t say where she was going.”

  “Nobody ever goes farther south than we do,” Kev said. “It’s dangerous.”

  “In what way?”

  Kev shrugged.

  “Are you going after her?” Jean asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. But it’s time to make camp. Do you want to stop with us?”

  Arevin glanced past them, southward. In truth, the mountain shadows were passing over the glade, and twilight closed in toward him.

  “You can’t get much farther tonight, that’s true,” Kev said.

  “And this is the best place to camp in half a day’s ride.”

  Arevin sighed. “All right,” he said. “Thank you. I will camp here tonight.”

  Arevin welcomed the warmth of the fire that crackled in the center of camp. The fragrant burning wood snapped sparks. The mountain deer were a dim moving shadow in the center of the meadow, completely silent, but the horses stamped their hooves now and then; they grazed noisily, tearing the tender grass blades with their teeth. Kev had already rolled himself up in his blankets; he snored softly at the edge of the firelight. Jean sat across from Arevin, hugging her knees to her chest, the firelight red on her face. She yawned.

  “I guess I’ll go to sleep,” she said. “You?”

  “Yes. In a moment.”

  “Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked.

  Arevin glanced up. “You’ve already done a great deal,” he said.

  She looked at him curiously. “That isn’t exactly what I meant.”

  The tone of her voice was not quite annoyance; it was milder than that, but enough changed that Arevin knew something was wrong.

  “I don’t understand what you do mean.”

  “How do your people say it? I find you attractive. I’m asking if you’d like to share a bed with me tonight.”

  Arevin looked at Jean impassively, but he was embarrassed. He thought — he hoped — he was not blushing. Both Thad and Larril had asked him the same question, and he had not understood it. He had refused them offhandedly, and they must have thought him discourteous at best. Arevin hoped they had realized that he did not understand them, that his customs were different.

  “I’m healthy, if you’re worried,” Jean said with some asperity. “And my control is excellent.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Arevin said. “I did not understand you at all. I’m honored by your invitation and I did not doubt your health or your control. Nor would you need to doubt me. But if I will not offend you I must say no.”

  “Never mind,” Jean said. “It was just a thought.”

  Arevin could tell she was hurt. Having so abruptly and unwittingly turned down Thad and Larril, Arevin felt he owed Jean, at least, some explanation. He was not sure how to explain his feelings, for he was not sure he understood them himself.

  “I find you very attractive,” Arevin said. “I would not have you misunderstand me. Sharing with you would not be fair. My attention would be… elsewhere.”

  Jean looked at him through the heat waves of the fire. “I can wake Kev up if you like.”

  Arevin shook his head. “Thank you. But I meant my attention would be elsewhere than this camp.”

  “Oh,” she said with sudden comprehension. “I see now. I don’t blame you. I hope you find her soon.”

  “I hope I have not offended you.”

  “It’s okay,” Jean said, a little wistfully. “I don’t suppose it’d make any difference if I told you I’m not looking for anything permanent? Or even anything beyond tonight?”

  “No,” Arevin said. “I’m sorry. It’s still the same.”

  “Okay.” She picked up her blanket and moved to the edge of the firelight. “Sleep well.”

  Later, lying in his bedroll, the blankets not quite keeping off the chill, Arevin reflected on how pleasant and warm it would be to be lying next to another person. He had casually coupled with people in his and neighboring clans all his life, but until he met Snake he had found no one he thought he might be able to partner with. Since meeting her he had felt no desire for anyone else; what was even stranger, he had not noticed that he was not attracted to anyone else. He lay on the hard ground, thinking about all that, and trying to remind himself that he had no evidence but one brief touch, and a few ambiguous words, that Snake felt any more than casually attracted to him. Yet he could hope.

  For a long time Snake did not move; in fact, she did not think she could move. She kept expecting dawn to come, but night remained. Perhaps North’s people had covered the crevasse to keep it in the dark, but Snake knew that was ridiculous, if only because North would want to be able to see her and laugh at her.

  As she was considering darkness, light glimmered above her. She looked up, but everything was blurs and shadows and strange noises that grew louder. Ropes and wood scraped against the crevasse wall and Snake wondered what other poor cripple had found North’s refuge, and then, as a platform sank smoothly toward her, lowered on pulleys, she saw North himself descending. She could not hold Melissa tighter, or hide her from him, or even stand up and fight for her. North’s lights illuminated the crevasse and Snake was dazzled.

  He stepped from his platform as the pulley ropes drooped down to its corners. Two of his followers flanked him, carrying lanterns. Two sets of shadows flowed and rippled on the walls.

  When North came close enough, the light enveloped both of them and Snake could see his face. He smiled at her.

  “My dreamsnakes like you,” he said, nodding toward her feet where the serpents coiled around her legs, halfway to her knees. “But you mustn’t be so selfish about them.”

  “Melissa doesn’t want them,” Snake said.

  “I must say,” he said, “I hardly expected you to be so lucid.”

  “I’m a healer.”

  North frowned a little, hesitating. “Ah. I see. Yes, I should have thought of that. You would have to be resistant, would you not.” He nodded to his people and they put down their lanterns and came toward Snake. The light illuminated North’s face from below, shadowing his paper-white skin with strange black shapes. Snake shrank away from his people, but the rock was at her back; she had nowhere to go. The followers walked gently among the jagged stones and the dreamsnakes. Unlike Snake they were heavily shod. One reached out to take Melissa from her. Snake felt the serpents uncoiling from her ankles, and heard them slide across the rock.

  “Stay away!” Snake cried, but an emaciated hand tried to ease Melissa from her arms. Snake lunged down and bit. It was the only thing she could think of to do. She felt the cold flesh yield between her teeth until she met bone; she tasted the warm blood. She wished she had sharper teeth, sharp teeth with channels for poison. As it was, all she could do was hope the wound became infected.

  North’s follower pulled back with a yelp, tearing his hand away, and Snake spat out his blood. There was a flurry of motion as North and the others grabbed her by the hair and by her arm and by her clothes and held her while they took Melissa away from
her. North twined his long fingers in her hair, holding her head back against the wall so she could not bite again. They forced her out of the narrow end of the crevasse. Fighting them, she staggered to her feet as one of the followers turned toward the platform with Melissa. North jerked her hair again and pulled her backward. Her knees collapsed. She tried to get up but she had nothing left to fight with, no more strength to overcome exhaustion and injury. Her left hand around her right shoulder, blood trickling between her fingers, she sagged to the ground.

  North let go of Snake’s hair and went to Melissa, looking at her eyes and feeling her pulse. He glanced back at Snake.

  “I told you not to keep her from my creatures.”

  Snake raised her head. “Why are you trying to kill her?”

  “Kill her! I? You don’t know a tenth what you think you know. You’re the one who’s endangered her.” He left Melissa and came back to Snake, bending down to capture several serpents. He put them in a basket, holding them carefully so they could not bite.

  “I’ll have to take her out of here to save her life. She’ll hate you for ruining her first experience. You healers flaunt your arrogance.”

  Snake wondered if he was right about arrogance; if he was, then perhaps he was right, too, about Melissa, about everything. She could not think properly to argue with him. “Be kind to her,” she whispered.

  “Don’t worry,” North said. “She’ll be happy with me.” He nodded to his two followers. As they came toward Snake she tried to rise and prepare herself for one last defense. She was on one knee when the man she had bitten grabbed her by the right arm and pulled her to her feet, wrenching her shoulder again. The second follower held her up from the other side.

  North leaned over her, holding a dreamsnake. “How certain are you of your immunities, healer? Are you arrogant about them, too?”

  One of his people forced Snake’s head back, exposing her throat. North was so tall that Snake could still watch him lower the dreamsnake.