Reading the Wind (Silver Ship)

by Brenda Cooper

  TOR BOOKS BY BRENDA COOPER

  The Silver Ship and the Sea

  Reading the Wind

  Building Harlequin’s Moon (with Larry Niven)

  READING THE

  WIND

  __________________________________________________

  BRENDA COOPER

  A TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOK

  NEW YORK

  The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you without Digital Rights Management software (DRM) applied so that you can enjoy reading it on your personal devices. This e-book is for your personal use only. You may not print or post this e-book, or make this e-book publicly available in any way. You may not copy, reproduce or upload this e-book, other than to read it on one of your personal devices.

  Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author’s copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillanusa.com/piracy.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  READING THE WIND

  Copyright © 2008 by Brenda Cooper

  All rights reserved.

  A Tor Book

  Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC

  175 Fifth Avenue

  New York, NY 10010

  www.tor-forge.com

  Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Cooper, Brenda, 1960-

  Reading the wind / Brenda Cooper.—1st ed.

  p. cm.

  “A Tom Doherty Associates Book”

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7653-1598-4

  ISBN-10: 0-7653-1598-X

  I. Title

  PS3603.O5825 R43 2008

  813.’6—dc22

  2008016956

  First Edition: July 2008

  Printed in the United States of America

  0 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  To Toni Lynn Cramer and Kathryn Su Xueman Garrow Cramer

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I appreciate my family. Toni and Katie have been patient with uncountable early morning and early and late evening writing sessions. Without their support, I couldn’t do this and stay part of a family. Even the two dogs, Sasha and Nixie, suffered from lack of attention. Bless them all.

  My father, David, read the entire draft of this novel and made excellent comments. My mother, Mary, and my son David, offered regular encouragement. My son reminded me to have a life every once in a while, including taking me skydiving for the first time.

  My agent, Eleanor Wood, graciously read a complete draft, offered ideas, and pointed out mistakes. Tom Doherty, Bob Gleason, and Eric Raab from Tor supported this book.

  Thanks to Tobias Buckell, Charles Coleman Finlay, and all of the other writers at the Blue Heaven writing workshop, for excellent critique and commentary. The Fairwood Writers worked through much of the first draft. Glen Hiemstra has been a constant support.

  There are many other people who have offered support and help of one kind or another, and although there are too many to thank individually, I am grateful for all of the time and help that has flowed my way. I am truly lucky in the people I work and play with.

  PROLOG

  A CONTINUATION OF THE STORY OF CHELO LEE, DATED

  AUGUST 3, YEAR 222, FREMONT STANDARD, AS BROUGHT

  TO THE ACADEMY OF NEW WORLD HISTORIANS

  The last story I told you was of our sundering. The long war for the wild planet Fremont ripped the seven of us apart: it sent away my brother Joseph, his sweetheart Alicia, our friend Bryan, and our best protector, damaged and broken, Jenna. The sundering sent them to the stars, aboard the silver ship, the New Making. It left three of us on Fremont: three genetically changed teens amongst a few thousand original humans.

  I could have stayed with Kayleen in Artistos, where I grew up, but Artistos would have been full of Joseph’s ghost: in our house, in the guild halls, in Commons Park, in the school.

  Instead, I went with the West Band of field scientists, or roamers, to build a different life for myself. That choice was, in a way, a different and smaller sundering.

  I no longer lived in my town with my friend Kayleen, but instead I roamed wild Fremont with the one other like us, Liam.

  So the story I will tell you now begins after both the big sundering and the little sundering, after the ship flew away, and after I fled Artistos to become a roamer.

  Two and a half years passed between the end of the last story and the beginning of this one. The first was my year of sharp pain from losing contact with Joseph. I spent the second year learning to be a roamer, and the rest becoming useful, maybe even needed, within the band. Becoming family.

  By the end of these years, I was happy. I loved being a roamer, loved being able to hunt and run and be smart and be myself. The West Band gave Liam and me respect in spite of our differences and we gave them more success than they had before.

  Even though Liam and I didn’t promise each other a future with words, our hands warmed when we touched, and we found each other in any crowd, across nearly any distance.

  I had my own little wagon—no small thing.

  And every year, we got to visit Jenna’s cave twice. Our cave now. We named it the Cave of Power, and there we were learning who we were.

  Perhaps, in spite of the gaping hole where my brother had been, I was happier than ever.

  The only shadow falling on my life was the one I saw in Kayleen’s eyes when we went to town.

  PART ONE

  CHELO ON FREMONT

  1

  WE SPEAK

  Herb-scented smoke from the early evening fires lifted my heart while drumbeats lifted my feet. Cool spring air bathed my skin. My skirt swirled, slapping my calves as I danced behind Liam. A light sheen of sweat coated his back and thighs, shining nearly gold in the last full rays of the sun.

  It was the end of our semiannual visit to town, a night reserved for the two bands of roamers to feast and compete together.

  Twenty-five of us from the West Band had started this stick dance. Just an hour in, ten remained.

  Our bandmates chanted with the drums, helping us dance the divide from dusk to night, holding bright torches. The pace increased yet again, the drums seeking to exhaust us, the chant to buoy us. Dark-haired slender Sasha fell away next, followed by red-blond blocky-and-strong Kiara. They rolled free of our feet and took torches, joining the chant, cheering for us, for the band. Every time I began to fade, Mayah’s voice wormed into the part of me that could quit, blocking it, whispering, “shuffle, two, kick, three, turn, jump, jump…”

  As the stars winked awake, my kicks grew higher, my dip and swirl lower and faster. The drummers increased the tempo until sweat poured from them like it poured from us.

  The clacking of wood on wood warned us just before long, brightly painted sticks slid under our feet, horizontal, a foot above the ground. The swirling sticks demanded precision and height from our jumps. A crowd passed the sticks back and forth, hand to hand. The watchers were all roamers, most from our band, some from the East Band, friends and a few skeptics, two judges.

  More dancers fell away, feet tangling, bodies rolling.

  More sticks. The East Band had danced first. They’d managed five sticks—we already danced over ten. The joy of competition tore a grin from me. And it was the band’s win—normal band members danced with us when we passed the East Band’s mark. No one could blame our win on Liam and me. We were free to play; it didn’t matter now that we were faster and stronger.

  Contest had changed
to exhibition.

  A few of the East Band left the circle. Not all. Just the ones who hated our differences.

  Three of us remained, then two. Me and Liam, jumping, kicking, close to each other then away, a dance between us more than for the others. Fifteen sticks, and still we didn’t stumble. The stick-bearers grinned and raised them so high my skirt flew up past my knees. Drummers began to call for replacements. Chanters called our names: “Liam! Chelo! Liam! Chelo!”

  Liam threw his head back and laughed, and I joined him, giggling, so short of breath the laugh tore pain from my belly. Pain or not, our laughter reflected joy in moving well, joy in success, joy in being with each other and surrounded by family.

  I held out my hands, palms down and he shook his head, not yet.

  Jump, twist.

  He grinned at me, his dark eyes bright with exertion.

  Swoop, turn.

  Faces, grinning. Kiara and River and Sky and Abyl.

  Hop, high, down, just the toes, then up again over two sticks. Cheers all around us. I reached a hand to steady Liam and we leapt together as one, holding hands. We side-hopped over the seated circle of watchers, just above their heads, landing hard, almost falling. After, we stood, slick with sweat and glowing in the firelight of twenty torches.

  A cheer erupted, a celebration of our prowess and, perhaps, relief that we were done. The Last Night celebration of Spring Trading was now officially over, and the rest of the evening could be given to seeing friends.

  I stopped by my wagon to change from my dancing skirt into pants and a shirt, and to slip light leather sandals onto my feet. My home was small, but it was mine—a tiny kitchen and an everything-else room just longer than I was tall and half as wide; light enough to be pulled by a single hebra. I’d painted the inside pale blue with clouds and birds and, here and there, the tip of a tree. A silver space ship arced across the ceiling, for my brother, who had gone into the sky.

  Dressed for a trip into Artistos, I hesitated briefly in my doorway, centering. The wagon Liam shared with his parents, Akashi and Mayah, stood close to my smaller wagon, signifying we were all in the same family group. Maps decorated both, identifying us as geographers. Light poured from the window in Akashi’s wagon, illuminating the designs. My fingers caressed the paint, running across the slight ridges where mountains and lakes dotted the terrain here on Jini, the largest of the two continents on Fremont. I had hand-painted them on the side of the wagon, not sure even at the time if I was painting myself into a profession or into Akashi’s family. As usual, Akashi apparently knew my feelings, even the contradictory ones. He had simply smiled and helped me get tough parts, like Islandia’s Teeth, painted right.

  I shook my head, pushing aside the memory. Right now, I had to find Kayleen.

  Liam emerged, dressed simply in a pale green hemp tunic and brown pants. Like me, he stood a head taller than most of the original humans on Fremont. A shock of blond hair hung over dark eyes, and a long braid twisted down his back nearly to his waist. He broke into a warm grin as soon as he spotted me. My grin answered his, and I immediately felt almost as much like we were one connected being as I had in the dance.

  “We did great!” He reached for my arm, his voice tinged with pride and satisfaction. “Dad said he was watching from the hill. He thought we’d dance all night.”

  “Well, and I thought you’d never stop,” I teased. “I thought we’d just go until one of us fell.”

  He laughed, not like in the dance, but soft and low. “We’d have worn out the drummers.”

  “Or ourselves.” I stepped briefly into his arms, then pushed away, unwilling to be lost inside of his embrace. “Let’s find Kayleen. I’m worried about her. She seemed so…” I searched for a good word. “… so listless yesterday. She didn’t get excited about the maps we found in the cave on the way down and she barely ever looked at me.”

  He put a hand on my shoulder and looked past me, as if lost in thought. “She’s trapped here. We’re free.”

  For just a moment I was glad that she hadn’t seen the dance. Then a flash of guilt at the thought ran through me, making me shiver. “Let’s go.” I squeezed his hand.

  We jogged side by side, heading into town from our encampment in Little Lace Park. The Lace River ran down a short cliff to our right, full with rushing winter-melt water, singing into the gathering darkness. Here, we could walk freely, without sorting every sound for the dangers that roamed or grew in the wilds.

  Twintrees and lace maples and redberry bushes lined the path, reaching new spring branches across, trying, as always, to reclaim any part of Fremont we humans struggled to tame. Night birds twittered and called to each other.

  Kayleen still lived with Paloma in one of the four-houses a block away from Commons Park. When I knocked on their door, Paloma opened it, smelling of spring mint and redberry. “Chelo and Liam! Come in. How are you?”

  “We’re fine,” Liam said.

  Standing in her doorway, I remembered a hundred times I’d stood here before, starting when I could barely reach the knob. This close, streaks of gray showed in her blond hair and wrinkles blossomed like flowers around her blue eyes. “Is Kayleen here?”

  She shook her head. “Almost never.”

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  She shook her head again, short and sharp, then smiled and said, “Sure. Will you come in for tea?”

  I wanted to stay and talk to her. But finding Kayleen was more important. “Do you have any idea where she is?”

  “She’s probably down by the hebra barns—she has a young one she’s taken a fancy to, and spends much of her time there.” Paloma twisted her hands together. “She goes out after work every night, and only comes home to sleep. I don’t even know what or when she eats any more.”

  I winced. “I’m sorry.”

  Paloma sighed and took my hand. “The nets work well right now. We’ve asked less and less of her. Even Nava leaves her alone some days. Kayleen’s been helping Gianna with the satellite data, and she identified the tracks of the last three good-sized meteors almost perfectly. Gianna is almost the only one she talks to anymore.” Her voice dropped lower. “I’m sure she misses you.”

  Even though there was nothing accusing in her tone, guilt tugged at me. I looked up at Liam. “Maybe we should stay in town next winter.”

  Liam turned to Paloma, his voice apologetic. “We can’t stay now. The band needs us the most in summer.”

  “She would like to see you more.” Paloma paused. “Me, too. You can stay here if you like. I… I’d like your opinion about Kayleen.”

  “We’re leaving tomorrow. We have to go; surely you understand.” I glanced down at my chrono. “We should get to the barn.”

  Paloma smiled. “I know. Look, I’ll talk to Nava and see if Kayleen can come visit you for a while this summer. Is that okay with you?”

  “Of course.” I returned her smile and touched her hand. Small comfort, but all I could offer. “What about this baby hebra she’s adopted?”

  Paloma smiled again, as if she, too, were enamored of the little beast. “She has. A young one with the prettiest green highlights in her brown striping when the sun shines on it. Kayleen’s training her. She already follows Kayleen around the pasture, and she’ll be ready to ride by midsummer. She named her Windy.”

  I smiled, picturing Kayleen with the young hebra. “I hope I meet Windy.”

  Liam held Paloma for a moment, kissing the top of her head, and then I embraced her. Her head came to my shoulder, and for the first time ever it struck me that I could protect and help her more than she could protect and help me. “I hope everything works out all right,” I murmured.

  Part way down the street, I turned to look back. Paloma stood in the door, watching. She gave us a little wave.

  I held my precious sun-fed flashlight, but left it off to protect my night vision as we jogged down to the barns. Even though warm night air tickled my skin, the winter had been harsh and long, and only
about half of the fields had been planted so far. We passed a few people heading home from late-night chores, exchanging polite half-waves. Already, town life seemed small.

  As we neared the barns, Stripes called out a greeting to me, and two or three other hebras whickered. Their tall graceful forms made black silhouettes outlined by the soft light from the barns. Their heads swiveled toward me. I went to Stripes and buried my face in her neck fur. She’d been in the common herd once, but Akashi had bought her for me the first spring after I joined the band. As he’d offered her lead to me, his eyes had twinkled with joy. “You need someone you know you can count on.”

  I’d cried.

  I breathed in Stripes’s dusty barn smell. “We’ll leave tomorrow,” I whispered into the long ear she swiveled down toward me.

  As if in response, she dropped her big head over my shoulder, nearly an embrace. Her hot breath trickled along the back of my neck.

  I pushed away gently and looked around. I didn’t see Kayleen, or any other human movement. “I don’t think she’s here,” I whispered.

  Liam called out, “Kayleen!”

  No response.

  Low evening lights made circles on the rush floor in the long, tall barn. The hebras each came up to be greeted, turning their long ears toward us and asking silent questions with their wide, intelligent eyes. Two or three of the females had spindly-legged spring babies beside them, but I couldn’t tell if one might be Windy. They were all beautiful.