The moment felt slightly off, but Juniper couldn’t place why. The old woman seemed almost to be waiting for something. Juniper mentally scanned her Political Discourse lectures—was there some sign-and-call response particular to these mountains? Her father had never lectured on the Anju people or customs in particular, only on their place in the general history of the region. Juniper felt woefully out of touch.
Finally, she settled for inclining her head and reaching out to grasp Odessa’s outstretched forearms. What else could she do? “And to you, Mother Odessa.”
They embraced, then each stepped back several paces. Juniper thought the woman looked disappointed, but she seemed to quickly steel herself. “I speak for my people,” she said. “At least, at this time I do. We are a peaceful tribe, as you will find for yourself. We mean no harm to you or yours, this I swear.”
Juniper nodded. “I think we shall have a great deal to discuss, you and I. But first, we must know what it is we are faced with. You appear to recognize my name, so you must know that my mother was one of your own. You have just guaranteed our safety and spoken of your tribe’s peaceful nature. Yet how is it that your people have brought this attack against our camp?”
“As you say, there is much to discuss. For your first concern: We do have your mounts, and they shall be returned to you. They were taken . . . in error.” Odessa paused and studied Juniper, as though sizing her up. “Times and seasons, my dear, times and seasons! So much can turn upon the span of a moment. You have come to us at a most auspicious time, and that cannot be disregarded.” She stood taller, suddenly looking less like a bent old crone and more like the fierce leader of a mountain tribe. “Will you return with us to our settlement?”
Juniper hesitated. “Go back just a moment. Our horses were taken . . . in error, you say? How is it possible to converge upon someone’s camp and steal their animals accidentally? You’re either a peaceful people or a warlike one—there’s no middle ground.”
In answer, Odessa flung her arms wide. “Look around you, girl! You see where you are? The Hourglass Mountains! This is our land and has been so for generations. We are peaceful, that is a truth. Did you see any weapons upon those guards you encountered? Do you see any around you now?” It was true. Juniper didn’t. “We do not instigate; we do not launch petty skirmishes; we do not venture where we do not belong. We keep to ourselves, and thus we live in peace. Yet we also do not take kindly to encroachments upon our spaces. That valley you chose for your settlement is itself an old Anju camp, albeit long deserted. Can you blame us for keeping an eye out for trespassers on our territory—and for retaliating against those who occupy it without right? We will not mount an unprovoked attack, that’s a fact. But we will defend our own to the death.”
Juniper felt quite lost for words.
“You see how much can change depending upon the angle of view? Your settlement was spotted by our scouts, who saw it as the trespass it was. Only after the horses were taken did further observation lead us to realize your . . . particulars.”
“Particulars?”
Odessa lifted an eyebrow. “Why, your youth, of course. You’re all children over there!”
Juniper bristled, but Odessa ran quickly on.
“This put the whole situation in a different light. Still, we decided to keep the beasts, hoping their loss might encourage you to go on your way sooner, to return home without further delay. And now . . . well, now we have still more information, and the image has shifted again.” Odessa heaved a weary sigh. “Ah, your mother! Mountain blood runs through your veins, girl. It turns out you’ve as much right to the territory as any of us. Now—will you come and learn more about this blood tie? Will you come and see your mother’s people for yourself?”
Would she? Juniper had taken three quick steps before Odessa had finished her last sentence. Turning back to the others was almost an afterthought, and seeing the hesitation in Alta’s and Cyril’s faces did nothing to quell her enthusiasm.
She was queen, by the goshawk! This was her call to make.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go meet the rest of the Anju.”
Avoiding their eyes, she turned to follow Mother Odessa into the trees.
8
“WHAT CAN YOU BE THINKING?” CYRIL HISSED in Juniper’s ear as the fur-clad Anju melted ahead of them into the dense forest canopy.
“I’m doing what I must,” Juniper retorted. The idea of unsettling her brash, boisterous cousin just made her decision a happier one. Anything Cyril disliked couldn’t be that bad.
Cyril’s mouth twisted. “I see,” he said with distaste. “Leaping at the chance to return to your savage roots. If you knew the things I do about these people! You’ve no idea what you’re getting into.”
“Don’t I? How about you tell me, then, if you know so much.”
Cyril shifted uncomfortably. Underneath that pompous arrogance, Juniper caught a flash of something else.
“Wait,” she said. “You’re not afraid of the Anju, are you?”
“They’re wild!” Cyril said hotly. “They’re unprincipled—they live in the forest! We might expect anything at all from them. How can you venture off into the boondocks like this, with absolutely no sense of where we might end up?”
Alta looked anxiously between the two of them, as if hesitant to commit to one side over the other. Tippy just seemed to be enjoying the show.
“Cyril,” Juniper said patiently, “we ourselves live in the wilds, just at this moment. These are my mother’s people. Surely many of them knew her, even! It’s not twenty years since she went away. If they meant us harm—and why would they, after all?—but if they did, then surely they would have shown so by this time. Why should they lie about their peaceful natures, when they have it well within their numbers to overwhelm us anytime they choose? Look around you. They’re nowhere to be seen at all. We are following them.”
“More fools us,” Cyril muttered.
“I didn’t see any sign of weapons,” said Alta, but she sounded like she was trying to talk herself into agreement.
Cyril persisted. “I know all about the Anju. They’ve got a whole network of clans like this scattered through the Hourglass range. One tribe? Pssht. That would be no concern. But they’re all connected. Maybe they don’t go around mounting attacks, like that old woman said. But when they need to defend themselves, they are fearsome to behold! And who can say what they might consider a threat?”
“What are you saying, Cyril?” Juniper said, but she was only half listening. Her focus had snagged on his first statement. A network of clans, which might be called together at a moment’s notice?
“I’m saying you can’t just go skipping into their den like an ignorant schoolgirl. You’ll be eaten alive.”
Ordinarily, Juniper would have caught that barb and batted it right back into Cyril’s face. Instead, she couldn’t hold back a smile. Far from talking her out of meeting the Anju, Cyril had just added a great and shining new reason to do so.
Could there be an answer here to their Monsian problems as well?
“How is it that you know so much of the Anju,” she said finally, “since you evidently have never met one in person? Aside from my mother, of course.”
“Why, don’t you recall where I’ve been the last five years? I took Cultural Perspectives twice weekly at the Academy all last quarter.”
Juniper considered him. “Learned a lot about them, did you?”
“All there is to know. I was top of my class, obviously. Anything you like—history, topography, cultural customs, relationships.” He tapped the side of his head. “It’s a treasure trove in there, I’m not too proud to say.”
Juniper rolled her eyes. “You’ve got pride enough to spare, I’m sure. Still,” she said cheerfully, “there’s one great thing about you, Cyril: The more trouble you try to cause, the better things usually end up fo
r the rest of us. We may find a use for you yet, pompous noggin and all. Now, our guides are getting away. Try and keep up, will you?”
• • •
In the end, they didn’t have far to go. Dense as the copse of trees had been where they first stopped, the Anju’s trail led them even deeper: into the darkest patch of forest Juniper had seen yet. Moss crawling along the ground was so dark as to be nearly black, and the hanging vines gave off a lightly perfumed scent. While the air still held a little bite, it was far warmer than when they’d first crossed over to this mountain. Though not nearly so warm as the Basin. Unlike the secretive scouts, Odessa didn’t let herself get too far ahead, but waited for Juniper and the others to reach the group before pushing on further.
Finally, Odessa came to a stop. “We have arrived,” she said.
“Here?” said Alta doubtfully. “Where are we, then?”
Tippy bounced on her toes, then let out a sudden gasp, her eyes wide and round. “Only look up, everybody! Oh, the wonders!”
Tilting her head back and scanning the treetops, which glowed gently with pops of glimmering light, Juniper saw flashes of walls and roofs and frosted wooden structures peeking out of the dark green bristles.
The Anju village was everywhere above them. It was in the trees.
While Odessa stood and waited, smiling at their gapes of wonder, the rest of the tribespeople kept moving. Some slipped behind and into the verdant bushes. Some grasped hold of ropes or low-hanging branches and pulled themselves up various nearby structures. Every one of them seemed perfectly at home in this rustic outdoor paradise.
“Too much,” moaned Tippy. “Too very much happy for one expedition!” Her hands opened and closed like she couldn’t wait to start climbing. She did wait, though, turning to Juniper to see what came next.
Odessa faced Juniper as well. “Juniper, daughter of Alaina, will you and your companions come up and tour our village?”
Juniper felt excitement ripple through her. So this was her mother’s village—where young Alaina was born and lived her whole early life! Juniper had always loved climbing, had always felt freer looking down on the world from a height. Was this something she’d inherited from her mother, too? She looked at Alta.
Alta met her eye. “If I may speak for us, Juniper?” Juniper nodded, and Alta said to Odessa, “We are greatly pleased by your welcome, as our queen has stated. However, as her chief guard”—Alta had to notice the tiny smile that quirked the old woman’s lips, but she barreled on—“I find myself wishing for a little more information. I can see that we have arrived at your settlement, and a fine settlement it does appear. But before we ascend, I’d like to know a little more about what we should expect. Where are you taking us exactly, and to what purpose?”
“Another thing,” Cyril cut in. “Back upon our first meeting, you said you spoke for your group, but just ‘at this time.’ What the deuce did you mean by that?”
“You’ve posed two very good questions—and very big ones, besides,” Odessa said, acknowledging the others but still facing Juniper. “I’d hoped to get a little more comfortable before delving into historical matters. But if these answers will ease the transition, I am happy to oblige. To address your last question first: We, as a tribe, are in a state of mourning. Our beloved chieftain has died, only seven days past.” She lowered her head slightly. “Our rulerships are set in place for three decades, but Chief Darla wore the leather band for a mere seventeen years. This has been our week of remembering, our week of preparation before the new ruler takes control of the tribe. Until that ruler is chosen, as a former chieftain myself, I am the one to fill the gap, along with the other members of our Council of Elders.”
“You have my sincere regrets on the loss of your chieftain,” Juniper said quietly. “It seems like a poor time for your tribe to be entertaining visitors.”
“Not at all,” said Odessa. “The only thing better than a life well lived is a death well met. Chief Darla left us too soon, but her passing was not unexpected. It was some months ago now that she contracted the yellow flux, which left her in a delicate and declining state of health. But she had lived a full life, and we are not ones to lose time weeping. This week is her tribute: a time of remembrance and honor and commemoration. We are celebrating her life, as she wished for us to do and as is our custom. As I have said, your horses are safe and being kept in a secure location. We shall take you to inspect and retrieve them by and by. But first I would like to offer you a tour of our settlement. And I invite you to join us at our feast this eventide. For the company and to share the experience, but also because we have quite a delectable spread lined up, and you have the look of those who could use a hearty filling-up.”
Juniper opened her mouth. Then she paused. She knew their first priority was to get to the horses, to check on Jessamyn’s spy cat and see if, against all hope, it was still alive to be rescued. Yet the thought of gathering their mounts and leaving the Anju behind, so soon after she’d come, was like a punch to the gut. She turned toward Alta. “What say you, my chief guard?”
“For my part, I should like to see the horses first thing. But . . . I can see the value in touring the settlement as well.”
Juniper brightened. Of course—retrieving the spy cat and the horses was no longer the only possible value to be gained from meeting with the Anju. What if there was a way to enlist the tribe’s help in the fight against Monsia? Returning to Torr with the backing of a larger group could make all the difference. More to the point, Alta had to know how badly Juniper wanted this connection personally, and she loved her friend for justifying it for her aloud.
Suddenly, she had a way to make both operations possible.
“Mother Odessa,” said Juniper, “I should be glad to accept your offer of a guided tour of your settlement. I shall bring young Tippy along with me. At the same time, might Alta be conveyed to retrieve the horses?” She paused. What about Cyril? Alta nodded and patted her scabbard reassuringly. Juniper grinned. Cyril had shrunk visibly since entering the Anju’s settlement. Whatever information he’d learned about them at the Academy, it seemed fairly clear he wouldn’t step out of line while they were here. “Take him along with you,” she mouthed, and Alta nodded. Cyril folded his lips at being so unceremoniously parceled off, but he said nothing.
“And the evening meal?” asked Odessa. “You will stay long enough, I hope, to join us in this time of celebration? It seems to me there is no better way to know a people than to share their table. And this will be a feast like few others.”
“Oh, let us stay,” cried Tippy, “for that roasting meat has been piping its sweet smell at me and fairly begging me to answer!”
“Evening meal means evening dark,” Alta cautioned.
“Then we shall put you up for the night, and you may head out tomorrow at first light,” said Odessa. “Even if you left now, you should not reach the bridge before nightfall, which would leave you to camp out in the open. Enjoy our hospitality, humble as it is, and you will set out refreshed on the morrow.”
“Very well,” said Juniper. The idea of a longer stay with her mother’s people was very pleasing. And when that came complete with a delicious meal? Well.
It was no decision at all.
• • •
They decided that Odessa would take Alta and Cyril to fetch the horses, which were penned up on the far side of the village. The Anju had little use for livestock, Cyril informed Juniper before they went their separate ways. They prided themselves on their foot power, and it was said they could outrun a carriage at full tilt. Juniper thought that was something she would quite like to see.
Juniper and Tippy were introduced to a newcomer, a girl of about Juniper’s age who was to be their guide. She’d materialized from behind the tree’s trunk as though she had been lurking there all along, just awaiting introduction.
“I am Zetta,” the new girl said
. “With your permission, Mother Odessa, I should be happy to provide escort from here.” She inclined her head to the older woman, then looked challengingly at Juniper. “Shall we climb?”
While Odessa led the others away into the tree cover, Zetta motioned toward the nearest trunk. Juniper saw a low branch jutting out near her at about waist height. It was smooth and worn and sturdy as a well-built bench. It beckoned. She looked up beyond it and saw that the first branch led to a second, which led to a third, and on up this fat friendly tree in a winding sort of stair. The stair led to a landing and, just visible through the leaf-heavy branches, a polished walkway that was very like the wooden rope bridge they had crossed not an hour before.
She thought of their own Great Tree, back in the Basin, and how the branches led up like stairs to the big tree-house platform. These steps showed a similar kind of shaping—though how someone could make branches grow one way or another, Juniper had no idea.
Tippy bounced on her toes, but Zetta waved a hand for Juniper to head up first.
So. This was it, then.
She started to climb.
9
DURING HER AWKWARD ASCENT, JUNIPER HAD to stop more than once to steady herself against the rough bark. There were no handrails, and the step ledges grew increasingly narrow, but it was clear from Zetta’s steady pace that she found this as easy as treading a garden path. Juniper loved climbing as much as the next girl—and more than many, in fact; it was one of her favorite ways to clear her mind and anchor her thoughts—but this was less of a climb and more of a vertical tightrope. Not to mention the way the wind tugged at her billowy split skirts and her thick cool-weather cloak. Juniper ground her teeth, gripped the trunk for support as best she could, and clambered on.
When they reached the top, Juniper was panting and off balance. She needed to figure out how best to get around in this treetop kingdom. Frowning at Zetta’s feet, she saw the girl was wearing the same type of footwear as the scouts had back in the clearing. Zetta caught her look and lifted a foot for Juniper’s inspection.
Princess Juniper of the Anju Page 7
