“I guess none of those names rings a bell for you,” she muttered. “Even if they did, you wouldn’t be able to tell me anything. What’s the point? I might as well be talking to the wall.”
She slapped the towel down on its hook again and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t suppose you’re thirsty.”
She picked up a bag of water from the corner and tossed it onto the platform next to him. To her surprise, he threw off his robe and snatched it with greedy hands. He tore off the cork stopper with expert hands and gulped the water as if his life depended on it. Mala stared at him. “Well, I’ll be!”
He surprised her even more by jamming the cork back in place and slapping it down. He set the bag aside with a sigh and hitched the robe back into place around his shoulders. Then he went back to looking in front of him. Mala narrowed her eyes at him. This was the most he’d moved since her mother brought him into their home. He’d obviously drunk from skin water bags all his life.
He breathed easier after he’d drunk. He must have been perishing with thirst since her mother found him and had no way of telling anyone. Her heart went out to him, and she sat down on the platform next to him. “If you could tell me what happened to you, we could find a way to help you, but you can’t. You don’t make it easy, do you?” She hesitated. “Do you have a sweetheart back home? Maybe you have a mate and children, for all I know.”
She cast a critical look over him. His matted fur stuck to his head on one side. She bent down and took a wooden brush from the cupboard under the platform. She inched closer to him and set the brush into his fur.
He jerked his head away, but she wouldn’t be turned back now. She tried again. “Sit still. You’re a mess. Let me clean you up.” The second time the brush touched his head, he didn’t pull away. He let her work on the tangled fur until the brush ran over his head in smooth strokes.
Mala held his head steady with her other hand. “My mother would never let any of us walk around like this, not even my father. I’m surprised she didn’t brush you herself, but maybe she thought you were too fragile for that. Well, we’re almost finished, and you look much better. You don’t look so much like something that crawled out from under a stump in the forest.”
Once she got through untangling the mass of knots, he turned his head into the brush. He breathed deeply and even purred sometimes. Mala smiled. “How long has it been since someone was kind to you? Maybe you don’t even have a family. Maybe you live wild and alone out in the woods, and you can’t even talk. Maybe all this planning to send you back to the Lycaon is a big mistake.”
She sat back on the platform and tugged the stray hairs out of the brush. When she put it away and folded her legs under her again, she froze when she noticed him staring at her. The blank stupidity vanished from his eyes. He gazed deep into her soul in wordless entreaty. He was trying to tell her something.
She could barely whisper. “Can you understand me?”
Something in his face changed ever so slightly. He understood her, even if he couldn’t say so.
“Do you remember what happened before my mother found you?” she asked.
A cloud crossed his face. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He remembered it very well. That was the problem.
“Sooss....” she murmured.
His head snapped away as if she’d struck him. He winced and turned away. He went back to staring at a spot on the floor and paid no more attention to her.
Mala kicked herself for ruining her chance to communicate with him. She sighed and got off the platform. She wished she could go back to her work, but she paced around the room instead. “Maybe Anna can get through to you. She spent a long time with the Lycaon before she went to the Ursidreans. Maybe she understands something we don’t.”
She picked up her pestle and set it down again. “She didn’t say anything when she was here, though. She didn’t even think you might be thirsty. She couldn’t tell us anything about you. It’s not surprising when you think about it. She couldn’t know every Lycaon. There must be thousands of them.”
She stopped pacing and fixed him with her fierce gaze. Then she dropped onto the platform again with an exasperated gasp. “This isn’t going to work. I can’t talk to myself. You have to say something.”
His eyes rose slowly from the floor and found her face. He searched her soul the way he searched the sump grove for any answer. Mala saw written there the answers all her questions. He remembered what happened, and he longed to tell someone. He wanted nothing more than to tell what happened and what he’d seen and to find his way home. He wasn’t homeless or alone. Somewhere, a loving family worried about him and wanted him back.
If he could only speak, he would tell what he knew. If she could only coax him to speak, she could unravel this mystery. Her mind raced for something to say to get him talking again. “Are you still thirsty?”
That brought a smile to his face. That first light of understanding thrilled her to her core. Her heart raced, and sweat broke out on her palms.
“Are you hungry?” she asked. “We have some meat, but we don’t have any way to cook it.”
She started to rise to bring the bowl to him, but he laid his hand on her arm and sat her down again. He gazed into her eyes with the same unbroken intensity. He wasn’t hungry or thirsty. He wanted to communicate with her.
Mala turned the puzzle over and over in her mind. There must be some way to get through to him. He sat unmoving and unresponsive until she brushed his fur. That one act of contact and kindness broke down his inertia more than all the food and drink she could offer him.
At last, she took a deep breath and took his hand. She folded it into her own hands and placed it in her lap. She brought her face closer to his. His eyes ran down to her lips and back up to her eyes. She would have kissed him if she thought it would do any good. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. As soon as we know who you are, we can take you home.”
He registered every word, and a twinkle of hope danced in his eyes. His lips parted and his tongue moved to form silent words. The words to break the spell hovered on his lips, just waiting to come out.
Mala stroked his cheek and ran her fingers though his fur. “Go on. Tell me what happened.”
End of Book 4
Book 5: Roshin
Chapter 1
Roshin landed on the platform in front of Piwaka’s house and looked around. The village spread out quietly on all sides. Lights glowed in the windows, and voices bubbled from the doorways. This quiet time between the busy activity of day and the soft murmur of night always filled Roshin with nostalgic love for the Avitras and their villages. No other faction could understand the peace and belonging of his home village.
Piwaka appeared in his doorway and nodded at Roshin. “All finished? Are they on their way?”
“They’re on their way.” Piwaka turned to go back inside, but Roshin followed him. “They’ll be with the Ursidreans in a few days.”
Piwaka shrugged. “If they get that far.”
“You don’t think they will?” Roshin asked. “They made it all the way north to the Outliers and all the way back down here. They’re Lycaon. They’re used to traveling. They’ll find the Ursidrean city, even though I didn’t take them all the way there.”
“What of it?” Piwaka asked.
“They’ll tell the Ursidreans the same thing they told us,” Roshin told him.
“I’m sure they will,” Piwaka muttered.
“They’ll tell the Ursidreans they came to us first,” Roshin went on.
Piwaka frowned. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.”
“They’ll tell the Ursidreans we sent them there instead of helping them ourselves,” Roshin explained. “We didn’t help them, even though they had two young Ursidreans with them who got separated from their people. They’ll also tell the Ursidreans the same story about that woman who helped them get free. They’ll tell them that
woman claimed to be your daughter.”
“Let them tell the Ursidreans anything they please,” Piwaka replied. “Those boys weren’t our responsibility, and that woman filled their heads full of lies so they would run far away and never come back. You know how the Outliers are. They can’t open their mouths without lying.”
Roshin regarded his older captain. “Are you going to tell Aimee what she said?”
Piwaka spun around, and his eyes flashed. “Why should I repeat her lies to anyone—especially Aimee? Better to pretend it never happened.”
Roshin stopped inside the door and watched Piwaka moving around the house. He puttered at the counter along the back wall in an aimless attempt to get himself something to eat. Aimee gave direction to his life. He lapsed into restless brooding when she went away.
Roshin braced himself. “Did you hear their description about where they came from?”
Piwaka didn’t turn around. “I didn’t pay any attention to them. I don’t care about the Outliers.”
“You don’t,” Roshin countered, “but I do. Those kids said the Outliers picked them up around the north end of the Divide. They took them on north to Rolling Ridges. Even you must have recognized their description of it.”
Piwaka grunted something.
Roshin waited for him to reply. “Did you recognize their description of it?”
Piwaka whirled around with his teeth set. “I’m not talking about the Outliers anymore. I have enough to think about with this peace negotiation without some kids throwing red herrings in my path with tales about the Outliers. Now quit hanging around here and muster the Guard. We have to traverse the Divide and meet Donen to exchange information on the new location of the border.”
He went back to messing around with his food. Roshin glared at the back of his head. “If they were telling the truth, and the Outliers are camped at Rolling Ridges, we’ve got a much bigger problem than any peace negotiation.”
“There is no bigger problem than the peace negotiation,” Piwaka growled.
“Sir....” Roshin began.
Piwaka cut him off with a chop of his hand. “No. If the peace negotiation fails, we’ll be back at war with the Ursidreans before we know it. We have to do everything to prevent that. Now stop standing around and muster the Guard.”
“We can’t ignore a threat like this,” Roshin persisted.
“There is no threat,” Piwaka replied.
Roshin tried again. “If those kids were telling the truth.....”
Piwaka cut him off again. “They weren’t telling the truth. Don’t you realize that? They couldn’t have known how close they were to Avitras territory. Besides, the Outliers filled their heads full of so much fluff they wouldn’t know their front from their back.”
“They may not have known where they were,” Roshin pointed out, “but no one could mistake their description for anything but Rolling Ridges. We can’t let the Outliers camp there, or they’ll be on our doorstep before we know it. You can’t blind yourself to the danger....”
“I’m not blinding myself to anything,” Piwaka returned.
Roshin fixed him with burning eyes. He never knew Piwaka to turn away from information like this. Roshin always admired the former Captain of the Guard, even when he set aside generations of hostilities with the Ursidreans in favor of peace. Roshin despised the Ursidreans more than ever, but he never lost his respect for Piwaka’s leadership—until now.
A dozen arguments raged in his head. He had to convince Piwaka the Outliers posed a greater danger than the Ursidreans, at least right now. But he couldn’t convince him. Piwaka belonged to another generation steeped in war. The peace negotiation dominated his thinking to the exclusion of everything else.
Three times Roshin opened his mouth to argue, but each time he closed it again. Piwaka didn’t look at him. His arguments fell on deaf ears. Roshin turned away.
He paused in the doorway to look back. Piwaka still pushed bowls back and forth on the counter. He might stay there all night until Aimee came back and made him something to eat. Roshin could explain the situation to Aimee and she might be able to convince Piwaka to investigate the Outliers.
But that would take time and, then again, she might not be able to convince Piwaka at all. She might not believe the Outliers had ventured as far south as Rolling Ridges, and even if she did, Piwaka might turn the same deaf ear on her that he turned on Roshin.
Roshin stepped out into the velvet night. Lights still flickered in the village. He glanced left. Piwaka wanted him to go that way to muster the Guard. The Guard would go up to the Divide to meet the Ursidreans, and not one armed soldier would remain to defend the faction from the Outliers.
Back over his shoulder, Piwaka was nowhere in sight. Roshin flexed his feathers and rose off the balcony into the air. He circled once around Piwaka’s house. Then he banked right and flew over the village, heading north.
He flew all night, but his strength carried him beyond the Western Divide. He spotted landmarks from the story the young Lycaon told him about their trek through the mountains. He flew until he came to the high ridge where they paused, and his feet touched down in the same place. He gazed north. Down this slope, they met the Outliers and fell in with them, little knowing the danger. Almost no one on Angondra knew the Outliers existed. Only a few higher Ursidrean and Avitras leaders kept an eye on their movements to make sure they didn’t come too close to the inhabited territories.
If those young people met the Outliers at Rolling Ridges, the Outliers were pushing their range farther south. Not only that, those young people claimed the Outliers were traveling north when they met them. That meant the Outliers were somewhere south of the mountain range and on their way back north to their camp in Rolling Ridges. They could have pushed all the way into Avitras territory, and the Avitras would never have known it because the Guard were so occupied with the Ursidrean border.
Roshin gazed down the slope. He would find the Outliers and determine for certain one way or the other where they were. He might be drummed out of the Guard for disobeying Piwaka, but if he was right, he might save his faction from destruction.
He folded his feathers behind him and set off walking down the path. He always detested walking. Avitras never walked, but those travelers walked. The Outliers would find him faster if he walked.
The sky lightened as he walked, and the air surged with sound. The trees came to life, and the day exploded over the horizon in all its glory. Roshin’s heart lightened. What was the sense in brooding over possibilities? He would satisfy his own curiosity. Maybe Piwaka would let it go, after all. By the time Roshin returned to his village, Aimee would be back. She would help smooth things over with Piwaka. She always did.
Roshin hated her when she first came to live with Piwaka. The peace agreement occupied her every thought. She and Piwaka spoke of nothing else from one day to the next until Roshin sickened of the thought of it. But Aimee worked without rest for years to make the agreement a reality. She traveled to all the other factions carrying information and coordinating negotiations. Perhaps that was the reason she and Piwaka never had children of their own.
In the end, Aimee won Roshin’s respect the way Piwaka did, through constant understanding and open communication. He trusted her with his life. That’s exactly what he would be doing if he expected her to intercede between him and Piwaka after he ran off on a direct order.
Roshin shook that idea out of his head. He had a job to do, and he must concentrate on it alone. He had no idea how to find the Outliers. He might stumble on them at any time, and they could kill him the way they killed so many others. The few tales coming back to the Avitras about their atrocities gave even the most hardened warrior nightmares.
The travelers’ description of the Outlier camp at Rolling Ridges sounded like a stable one. They could have settled there permanently, within spitting distance of Avitras territory. If worst came to worst, he could go there and see what
he found. He might be able to sneak up on them and find out what they planned to do.
The day enlarged overhead, and Roshin lifted his face to smile at the sun. He was out on his own, on a mission of his own contriving, and nothing could quash his enthusiasm. He struck off down the path with renewed determination.
All at once, he heard a sound he recognized. His nerves stood on end, and he listened with every fiber. A female voice rose through the trees in the lilting twitter of an Avitras lullaby. Roshin hadn’t heard anything like it since his own childhood, when his mother made those noises to sooth him and his sisters to sleep.
His purpose faded, and the sound drew him forward. He left the path and followed it into the trees. He cared nothing for the branches blocking his way. The sound enchanted him. He couldn’t resist it. It grew louder, and he stumbled over a bank into a sunny clearing next to a stream. There on the grass sat the most beautiful female he’d ever laid eyes on. Iridescent feathers surrounded her head and highlighted her bright green and purple eyes.
He stared at her with his mouth open. She raised her long eyelashes and smiled at him. Then she went on with her singing. It twittered and chirped exactly the way Roshin remembered it. She lowered her eyelashes and trailed her hand over the grass. Then she smiled at him again.
He snapped awake when the song ended. She spoke first. “Which tribe do you belong to?”
He gulped. “Where did you learn that song?”
She waved her hand again, and the color mounted to her cheeks. “My mother used to sing that song to me.”
“You’re....you’re Avitras,” he stammered.
“Yes,” she replied. “But we’ve been out here as long as I can remember.”
Her words sent a chill down his spine. She could only mean one thing by “out there”. “Do you belong to the Outliers, then?”
She smiled even wider. “Don’t you?”
The New Angondra Complete Series Page 15
