Trickster's Girl (The Raven Duet)

by Hilari Bell

  "And you," Kelsa shot back, "treated this world as your ... I was going to say playground, but playpen is more like it! You'd come here and get drunk, and get worshiped—Yes, I figured out that you've been gods as well. And that any legendary artifact that mysteriously vanished was probably your doing. So you got worshiped, and got laid, and played with us like toys, and never bothered to tell us about things that you could see and we couldn't! So don't give me any carpo about how inferior humans are, you irresponsible jerk!"

  They quarreled about responsibility and lies all through breakfast, and the rain that started falling as they neared the beginning of the Cassiar Highway put the cap on Kelsa's bad mood.

  She turned off at the junction, then stopped to read the running neon script of the road sign: "Cassiar Hwy. repaving for magneto-electric drive. Off-road vehicles only, between Iskut and Good Hope Lake."

  "Wonderful," Kelsa muttered.

  "We're driving, no, you're driving an off-road vehicle," said Raven coldly. "What's the problem?"

  He had been crazy enough to compare his people's failure to teach humanity about the leys to her trivial—and justified!—refusal to teach him to drive the bike. And he evidently wasn't prepared to let it go. Which was fine with Kelsa.

  "You've never been on a road they're repaving, have you? It'll be a mess."

  Raven shrugged. "This is the only road that runs anywhere near the ley." He sounded as if he blamed her for that too.

  "All right." Kelsa sighed. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

  ***

  The first section of the Cassiar Highway was newly paved, and it would have been gorgeous if the rain had lifted enough for them to see the mountains that surrounded them.

  "Are you sure this rain wasn't sent by your enemies?" Kelsa slowed for a curve that gleamed with water, even in the dim light.

  "Look at the vegetation." The words you idiot hung in the air between them. "It rains here most of the time."

  It was probably true. The lush forest around her was full of moss and ferns, more like the coastal rain forests of Washington and Oregon than the dry woods of the Rockies.

  They rode on and on, stopping for lunch at a pullout overlooking a lake whose water was the limpid blue of a tropical lagoon, even under cloudy skies.

  Soon after they passed Iskut and started up to Gnat Pass, the drizzle began to let up, the forest grew drier ... and the road disintegrated. The smooth surface of magneto-repellant asphalt gave way to a patchwork of repaved and unpaved potholes—and even that was better than the places where the road had been taken up to lay the charge bars that would keep the surface live once they were installed. Now, stretches of rock-strewn dirt appeared every few hundred yards—usually right after a blind curve, so Kelsa didn't have time to slow down for them.

  She reduced her speed to a crawl, but the bike still kicked and lurched beneath her, and Raven's arms were tight around her waist. At least he'd stopped asking to drive.

  Gnat Pass, 1,241 feet according to the sign, felt like timberline back home. The scattered pines were stunted and twisted. Kelsa slowed to look at them, and when the road needed all her attention, brought the bike to a stop. There wasn't enough traffic to worry about.

  "The tree plague hasn't made it this far north, has it?"

  Some things were more important than offended pride.

  "No." Raven's voice was calmer too. "A thousand feet is pretty high, this far north."

  Kelsa remembered the map she'd looked at on the train. Gnat Pass..."We're almost to the Yukon." Her voice was hushed with awe. She'd never expected to get that far, not really. She set the bike in motion once more.

  "You sound surprised," Raven said critically. "You've driven almost every foot of—"

  Perhaps it was fortunate that at that moment the bike heaved up like a bucking bull. Kelsa's teeth slammed together, but she managed to stay on her seat and keep the bike upright as they rolled to a stop. She kicked down the stand and looked.

  "Carp." She could see where the tire had ruptured, a long split in the groove of the tread. "There's no way to patch that. We need a new tire."

  They had to walk the bike for over an hour before an old-fashioned pickup truck pulled up behind them, though on closer inspection, it wasn't so much old-fashioned as simply old. The driver's broad, high-cheekboned face looked like a mature version of Raven's, but when Raven spoke to the driver in some rippling tongue, the man looked blank and answered in English.

  He was very kind, not only offering them a ride but helping them drag the bike up onto his truck, a process that left Kelsa exhausted and all of them smeared with mud. The driver not only took them all the way to Deese Lake, but also dropped them off at Charlie's Garage and Salvage Yard, and called Charlie on his own com pod to bring him out to make the repairs—even though the garage had closed over an hour ago.

  "I don't mind coming in." Charlie was a hard-muscled man in his fifties, with pale eyes and the weathered skin of a man who mostly worked outdoors. "I was just watching d-vid, and I can always use the business."

  To Kelsa it looked like everyone in Deese Lake needed business. The town advertised itself as a resort for off-roaders, but it appeared to be a bit too far off the road. Almost a quarter of the buildings along the main street were closed, and those that were open had the rough, untidy look of a town on the edge. At least a town that could be reached only by off-road vehicles had a wide selection of tires.

  Charlie plugged her bike into a flash charger while he replaced the shattered tire with a new one, and he was balancing it when the charge finished. When the bike was back on the ground, good as new, he wiped his hands and said, "That comes to $217.58, with tax."

  Raven had already reached into his pocket, and Kelsa saw the blank expression sweep over his face. He controlled it before it turned to panic, but she knew what had happened. His counterfeit money had poofed, just like he'd said it would.

  Kelsa's heart began to pound, but her mind was clear. She was already reaching for her charge card, but she had less than a hundred dollars left in her account. Raven had some real money, but it wouldn't be nearly enough. Charlie might be willing to leave his d-vid to help them, but he wouldn't let them abandon a bill that large half paid.

  He would call the police.

  Kelsa met Raven's eyes. She pulled her hand out of her pocket, empty, and he nodded. Charlie would call the police, and Raven had another man's ID in his pocket and no way to shapeshift to match that card. Kelsa was in this country illegally, a fact the police would certainly check, no matter how slack Canadian security seemed to her.

  "I'll have to charge it." Raven's smile, the charming one, flashed at Charlie. "Where's your reader?"

  Kelsa knew what she had to do, but regret pulsed through her as Raven pulled Charlie toward the back of the shop, and she quietly straddled the bike and rolled it out of the repair bay.

  It was a rotten way to repay Charlie for helping them, and guilt clutched at her as she keyed the motor to life. Charlie's startled shout rang in her ears as the bike sped off into the northern dusk.

  She would pay him back, eventually. She'd borrow the cash from her mother and spend the rest of her life working it off if she had to. With interest.

  A shapeshifter could always get out of jail, and Kelsa couldn't.

  If she was arrested, the healing would end. Even if Raven could find someone else to help him, the police would confiscate something as unusual as her medicine bag, and probably destroy its contents making sure it really was dirt, and not some new illegal drug.

  Kelsa was doing the right thing. It only felt like theft, and abandoning a partner in trouble.

  Sometimes towns like Deese Lake weren't even part of the security grid, but Kelsa got well outside it before she pulled off the road into a picnic area, and then into a deep grove where no one could see her from either the road or the air.

  Raven could find her; she had no doubt about that. He would sense the magic of the medicine bag or her pres
ence through the ley, or find her the same way ravens located their prey. Then they'd cut across country to avoid the roadblocks the police would set up ahead of them.

  All Kelsa had to do was wait. She didn't expect him to show up before morning, at the earliest. But only a few hours later the bushes rustled, and a large otter waddled into the glade and began to change, broadening, thickening, till a naked elderly woman raised her graying head and regarded Kelsa with dancing brown eyes.

  This wasn't Raven. Kelsa was reaching for a rock when the woman's laugh pealed out, warm and merry.

  "I shouldn't laugh. You're right to be wary, my girl. But I'm the one who's going to help you heal the ley between here and the Alaska border. Because it's going to be hard for that reckless boy to travel in Canada for a while, now isn't it?"

  CHAPTER 10

  LAUGH LINES CRINKLED AROUND THE old woman's eyes, though she rose to her feet with an ease that belied the sagging breasts and wrinkled skin. The warmth in her expression reminded Kelsa of her grandmother, who now lived in D.C., but who'd made cookies with her, played d-games, and still sent exactly the right presents at Christmas.

  The old woman clearly had Raven pegged. Kelsa let go of the rock.

  "Raven sent you?"

  "Of course. He had to give me the sense of that medicine pouch, or I wouldn't have been able to locate you. And heedless as he may sometimes be, he knows it's not safe for you to travel alone."

  Relief flooded in. Kelsa hadn't wanted to admit how frightened she'd been. "He said he had allies, but he never told me who they were. Will he be able to get away from the police?"

  "If that isn't like him." The old woman shook her head. "Raven's heart's in the right place, most of the time, but I wonder about his head! Suppose you got separated, like now? Suppose you needed help? You need to know who his allies are."

  Kelsa couldn't have agreed more.

  "Eagle and I are foremost among them," the old woman went on. "And Fox, Salamander, and Wolverine. I'm Otter Woman, though you've probably guessed that already."

  The woman seemed completely unconscious of her nudity, but the wrinkled skin was beginning to show goose bumps. She looked to be about Kelsa's size, and while therma knit and rainwear weren't as good as tempcontrol bike gear, they were much better than nothing.

  "Raven's way too arrogant." Kelsa dug into the bike's pack. "I kept telling him I could work better if I had information. But he will be able to get away, right?"

  "Of course," the old woman assured her. "But it might take a while. He could shapeshift through those bars anytime, but before he does that he'll have to dominate one of those policemen into turning off the security cameras—and that's not something they'd ordinarily do. I expect he'll catch up with us sometime after we cross into Alaska. But you still have the catalyst, don't you?"

  "Of course." Kelsa handed Otter Woman a stack of clothing, then pulled out the medicine pouch to show her.

  After a blink of surprise the old woman began to put on the shirt. "Well, I'm glad Raven wasn't carrying it! That would stop us right here. Would you like me to keep it safe for you? If we lost that little bag..."

  Catastrophe. But Kelsa had been carrying the pouch for so long, she was reluctant to give it up. The control-freak side of her, but still...

  "Raven said carrying it would make it easier for me to use," she said. "And after all, he's the one who ended up in jail! But I'm glad he won't be there long. I wouldn't like to leave him in trouble, even if he is an arrogant jerk."

  The old woman's warm laugh rang out once more. "I'd have said 'arrogant young fool.' But as for leaving him, he's the one who sent me to guide you until he can rejoin us. So don't feel badly about leaving him behind. You look exhausted, poor girl. The police have set their trap on the road ahead—they're not looking for you until just before Hope Lake. We can camp right here tonight."

  ***

  Not having lived on it for over a week, Otter Woman dug into peanut butter and crackers with relish. "This nut stuff is very nourishing. I've never eaten it before. And you'll need the energy, my girl. We've got to go a long way back for the tree calling."

  "Back?" Kelsa, who'd been folding up the tent, turned to stare. "I can't go back through Deese Lake; the police may be looking for me. Why should we go back?"

  "I can take you around the town," the old woman told her. "But we've got to go back. The best place to call on trees, and all the living green of this world, lies on the other side of that ... what is it called, Bug Pass? There are other places along the ley where you could call on trees, but the ancient grove is ... well, it's special. I can't think why Raven took you past it."

  "We were arguing." Kelsa fought down a pang of guilt. "He may have thought I couldn't focus, or something."

  "Perhaps that's it." The old woman nodded wisely. "But it's still the best place for the calling of trees, so back we go. Don't worry about the police. As I said, they're not looking on the road yet."

  Kelsa wondered how she knew. Perhaps this Eagle was scouting for her, or some other ally. Unlike Raven, Otter Woman would be smart enough to accept help. Still...

  "I'd rather keep moving north," Kelsa said. "If we go back, it will give those bikers more time to catch up."

  Her skin crawled at the thought. The old woman might be smarter than Raven, but fighting against a biker gang, Kelsa would rather have a strong young man on her side. Of course, Otter Woman might be able to be a strong young man if she chose to.

  "The bikers? Oh." Angry contempt swept over the wrinkled face. "Don't concern yourself with those useless creatures. They're probably still groaning over their hurts and hiding their precious drugs on the other side of the border. They're no match for me."

  Raven wasn't the only one with an arrogant streak, but in this case Kelsa found it reassuring. "Well, if the best nexus is behind us ... All right. How are we going to get around Deese Lake?"

  ***

  It turned out to be easier than Kelsa expected, though it took a long time. The old woman guided her for almost a mile through the brush-choked tangling woods to a fishing trail that followed the Cottonwood River, and then ran along the far shore of Deese Lake itself. It was even slower going than the potholed road, but Kelsa was accustomed to wrestling her bike over mountain trails. She was almost sorry when, in the late afternoon, the old woman instructed her to turn onto one of the paths that led back to the Cassiar Highway.

  Kelsa rode back up the other side of Gnat Pass, taking the stretch where she'd blown out her tire at a cautious crawl.

  It felt wonderful to reach the place where the new paving began, to increase speed till the wind tugged at her clothes, and to sweep around the curves. For once, the road was dry.

  It was just past dinnertime when the old woman tapped her shoulder.

  "Slow down!" Her voice was as thin as a bird's, and she shouted over the wind. "We're almost there."

  Kelsa slowed obediently. There was still no traffic to speak of.

  The small white sign, Ancient Forest Trail, was so unobtrusive Kelsa wasn't surprised she'd missed it before.

  There wasn't even a paved parking area beyond the shoulder, but a swath of rocky earth had been graded out of the base of the hill, and Kelsa pulled the bike over and stopped.

  It wasn't raining, but when she took her helmet off the air was soft with moisture, caressing her skin like Joby's baby fingers. Her hair would frizz up like a clown's in this much humidity. Stupid as it seemed, she was glad Raven wouldn't be there to see it.

  The old woman dismounted the bike with the same surprising grace with which she'd ridden all day. She hadn't demanded to drive, either.

  "This small forest has never been cut." Otter Woman gestured to a rugged-looking trail that ran up the slope. "It's not large, just a cleft in the hillside. I suppose it was too steep for them. A few years ago one of your nature tribes took control of the land and forbade anyone to cut the trees. Some of them are almost a thousand years old."

  "How do you know
all that?" Kelsa asked curiously.

  Otter Woman looked surprised. "It's on another sign." She pointed up the trail.

  Raven would have pretended some mystic source of knowledge, or at least been amused by such a literal answer, and Kelsa felt a flash of regret for his absence. Not that she missed him. And he should be back soon, anyway.

  An uphill scramble from the road brought them to the top of a small rise, where a more or less flat plateau held a large sign that confirmed the old woman's information. It also displayed a trail map with three loops.

  "Which one do we take?" Kelsa asked.

  Otter Woman shrugged. "Whichever holds a tree that speaks to you. That's what's needed."

  Kelsa turned back to the sign, waving off the mosquitoes clustering around her. Thank goodness her father had insisted on keeping her repellant shots up-to-date.

  "Big Tree Loop sounds promising."

  "Then Big Tree Loop it is," Otter Woman said. "You go first."

  This forest had survived because its slopes were too steep to log, so it was no surprise that the trail was steep too. Steps cut out of fallen logs and wobbling rocks alternated with flat patches, where plank bridges kept Kelsa's feet out of the bog. Even though they wouldn't bite, the mosquitoes were attracted to her body heat and swarmed around whenever Kelsa stopped to catch her breath. She noticed that they didn't bother Otter Woman either, but that was no surprise.

  There were more open places than Kelsa had expected. Places where some ancient giant had crashed down, letting in swaths of sunlight that glowed on the ferns and the floating, thorny beauty of devil's club.

  Crude wooden signs marked forks in the trail. Almost any of the towering cedars, whose ribboned bark ran up hundreds of feet before the lacy foliage appeared, would have done as far as Kelsa was concerned.

  She was beginning to tire when she spotted three huge trees standing together. Kelsa stopped, bending her neck till she could see the sunlit branches far above—all healthy, as far as she could tell. When she stepped off the trail, the damp loam of the forest floor bounced under her feet like the floor in a really good gym.