Reading the Wind (Silver Ship)

by Brenda Cooper

  Liam swallowed, then looked down at me, his dark eyes softening. “All right. We should make a list of what we need. A place to land the skimmer. A sheltered place we can protect from demon dogs. Safe food storage. We need to be near water.” He looked from me to Kayleen. “What else?”

  Good.

  Kayleen suggested, “Shelter from weather. I don’t know what kind of storms there are here.”

  I nodded. The band’s winter shelters were all near protected cliffs and one was in a shallow cave. Nothing like the multiple rooms in the Cave of Power, but enough to huddle inside during a cold wind. We survived by living lightly. Not cowardly, just… sliding through the balance of the wild as best as possible. Blending with it, leaving it unchanged unless we had to fight. That’s how we always won the stick-dance, too. Blending with the movement, the rhythm. We would have to do that here.

  Kayleen shrugged, looking over at me apologetically. “We do need to go toward wood. We’ve picked most of the perimeter clean of anything that will burn, and we’ll need to bring back firewood.”

  We’d need more than one trip’s worth of wood to keep a big fire going all night. But she was right. I sighed. “Okay, Liam, we’ll brave the forest.”

  Liam used the last of the water from the bucket he’d given Windy to douse the fire, which spouted a gush of white smoke and steam. We shouldered our packs, Kayleen grabbed Windy’s lead, and the three of us set off, shortly passing the perimeters. “Wait,” I said. “Should we take the perimeter with us?”

  Liam stopped, a thoughtful look on his face. “We’d just have to take the devices—we could find wood or stones to mount them on.” Then he shook his head. “It’s a lot to carry, and it’s only a warning. Besides, I’d like to have the bells go off if anything comes here, whether we’re here or not.”

  Kayleen looked thoughtful. “We know more now. I can tune them better, at least to the dogs. Maybe I can set the warning bells to dissuade them, like the ones around town.”

  I looked at her doubtfully. We’d taken portable perimeters around Little Lace Lake, and they hadn’t done that. But who knew what her abilities were like now? “We don’t have time to tune them today,” I said. “We’d better leave them, in case we get back too late to set them tonight.”

  “We won’t,” Liam said.

  Kayleen raised an eyebrow.

  “Besides, we brought weapons.” He grinned, a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “Let’s go.”

  We started out with Liam walking in front, Kayleen and Windy between us, and me in the rear. I kept my silence, still not entirely happy with the direction we were going.

  We crunched across a long stretch of rocky surface like we’d landed the skimmer on, walking slowly, since we had to pick our way through the rough footing.

  After about half an hour, we started winding upward. The ground turned to dirt and sandy loam. Without an actual path, we made a few wrong starts as we pushed through vegetation, turning back when small cliffs or rock piles stopped us. I watched Windy’s ears, hoping she’d warn us of anything we didn’t want to encounter. She kept them up, swiveling them around, sometimes turning her head all the way back to look at me, as if to say, “Keep me safe.”

  The greenery grew steadily bigger as we gained altitude. Pairs of twintrees twisted their reddish bark together, rising taller than most of our twintrees back home. Tiny green circles hid in the long, thin pointed leaves. The fruit had yet to grow the spikes that protected it from birds once it began to ripen. Near the high tops of the twin-trees, red and blue and yellow birds with long beaks watched us quietly, chattering to each other after we passed.

  Twintrees seemed to be the only familiar big trees. I didn’t see any tent trees, or lace-leaves. Here and there, unfamiliar tall evergreens with long spikes for needles towered above us. Denser underbrush than Jini’s threatened our progress regularly. Big-leaved bushes grew as tall as our heads. Long ropy ground-huggers with nasty spines tried to trip us up, and twice we stopped to pull spines from the thick fur just above Windy’s hooves. One of the thorns came away with blood dripping from its wicked, clear point

  Liam wandered back and forth like the lead camp dog, Ritzi, sometimes putting up a hand for silence, bending his head, and listening to the forest.

  He called a rest stop when we came across a clearing. A stream meandered through it, and a large pile of tumbled stones seemed to rise up out of the ground near the middle of the open space. After we watered Windy and found a way to lead her a little way into the rocks and still have a view, Liam pulled a notebook out of his pack and started taking notes.

  Kayleen leaned over to me and asked, “What’s he doing?”

  He sat a little distance away, bent over the notebook in his lap, scratching furiously with his pencil, looking up from time to time and surveying the clearing. He’d taken time to catch his hair back in a braid this morning, and it fell down his back like a golden-white rope, gleaming in the midmorning sunshine. In spite of my frustrations, I smiled at the content, intense look on his face. “He’s recording things he’s noticed. Being a roamer is in his blood.” I gave her my best evil grin. “Science will solve everything.”

  “Does that mean he feels better?” she asked.

  I pulled out my water bottle and took a long, slow drink. “Better about what?”

  “About… about being away from home.”

  “Being kidnapped?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral, trying for statement of fact rather than an accusation. “Probably not.”

  “Look at me,” Kayleen said.

  I did. She sat a meter away from me, long legs and long feet tucked under her, her dark hair loose and falling wildly around her shoulders. Her bright blue eyes contrasted with the yellow shirt she wore. Her mouth pursed, tight. Windy’s lead rope lay loosely in her hands, and the hebra, below her, nibbled at blades of grass between the rocks.

  Kayleen blinked, watching Windy. She kept her silence for a long moment before she said, “I’m sorry, Chelo. I’m sorry I had to kidnap you, sorry you wish you were home.”

  She spoke softly enough that Liam probably couldn’t hear her, although I wasn’t sure. He didn’t look at us or give us any sign, just kept jotting notes.

  Kayleen looked over at me and continued. “I’d do it again, because… because I had to. I’ve explained that. I had to leave, and I need you two. I really do. But I’m still sorry I had to.” She glanced over at Liam. “Will he ever forgive me?”

  Before I could answer, he closed the notebook and stood up. “Let’s go,” he said. “We’ve only got a few hours before we have to turn around if we don’t find anything.”

  Kayleen looked at me, pleading for an answer, and I spread my hands, indicating I didn’t know what he would decide. She hesitated, then asked very softly, “Do you forgive me?”

  In answer, I reached a hand out to help steady her, squeezing her hand softly. She squeezed back, then dropped my hand and jumped lightly down next to Windy. It was the best I could do—I couldn’t really say yes, but I could show her I had come to understand. At least partly.

  She stayed silent for the next hour as we threaded slowly up to a ridge that offered a good view. Down to our right, sunlight glinted off the Burning Void’s silver hull. South, trees obscured a clear view of Islandia’s Teeth, but to the north the ocean made a thin blue-green line on the horizon. From here, it was even possible to see the white steam clouds where the Fire River dumped its molten rock into the ocean. Down the opposite side, another valley had a single wide river running through it, and here and there, puffs of smoke hung above the trees on the way down. “What are those?” I asked.

  Liam squinted at the smoke. “I’m not sure. Near Rage Mountain, we found a lot of places with warm water, and a few places where warm water came up to intersect cold water, and those spots steamed. Maybe it’s the same here.”

  “Can we go look?” Kayleen asked.

  I glanced up at the sun, which was almost directly above our heads, the
n looked back down at the peaceful valley. There was water and wood, and warm water would be a treasure. Especially if we wintered here. I swallowed. But surely we wouldn’t. The valley opened up wider at the far end. “I’ll bet we can make a big circle instead of backtracking, and then we might have time.”

  Liam seemed to follow my logic. “I think we can. But more importantly, why haven’t we seen anything bigger than birds?”

  I looked around, realizing that it was a good question. “Maybe we’re scaring them off?”

  He frowned. “Maybe. There must be prey—we’ve met at least one predator.”

  I nodded. “Maybe we’ll see something in the valley.”

  His lips thinned. “I just hope we can handle whatever we see. Let’s move.” He struck out along the gentle downward slope that made up the ridge’s spine. Twice, he led us around piles of boulders stacked at the ridge’s center, and once we had to avoid a tangle of downed trees.

  Finally, Liam angled downward, threading his way through tree trunks that appeared to lean into the ground against the steep sides of the hill. The footing was soft forest loam, dried spiky needles, and here and there, the bones of large leaves. Our feet slid down a half-meter for each step, and it felt like we fell down the steep mountain as much as walked. We emerged from the trees about halfway down the valley’s length. The sun shone into our eyes, part way through its downward curve. Liam held out his arms, signaling us to stop. “Shhhh,” he said. “There’s almost no wind. I want to watch the valley floor for a few minutes.”

  “We don’t have time,” I whispered.

  “Stopping and really seeing may save our lives.” He fell silent, watching. Windy nuzzled Kayleen. I stood alone, watching like Liam, trying to see what he saw, to look through the eyes of a born roamer.

  A carpet of low light green spring grass covered the valley. Here and there, animal trails were visible. Small bushes and trees hugged the riverbank, about twenty meters from us. Forest rose up behind us and opposite us, on the far end of the valley. A slight wind had come up, singing through the tops of the evergreens. Between the river’s trees and the forest, almost nothing except sunshine and low grass and the occasional rock. One plume of the whitish steam we’d spotted from atop the ridge rose up a few hundred meters downriver from where we stood.

  Next to me, Liam and Windy went completely still. Liam pointed. I followed his gaze to spot movement on the far side of the river. Big animals, gathered together. I squinted, trying for details. They looked a little like hebras, but with much longer legs and slightly shorter bodies. They had longer necks, more than half as tall as their legs, and they were solid colors rather than the various stripes and spots of hebra coloring. I made out two duns, a black, a golden, and a deep chestnut color. They walked with a slightly lurching gait, but something about their movement convinced me they could run.

  “Can we get closer to them?” I whispered, no longer caring about how we spent time.

  Liam furrowed his brow and looked at each of us, his gaze lingering longest on Windy. She would draw attention for sure. “You go,” he said. “Go quickly and come right back. And be careful—prey animals that big imply predators that big.”

  No kidding. Big or in packs. Everything here seemed bigger than life. “I don’t want to see paw-cats twice my size. The ones at home are plenty big enough, thank you very much.” I took a deep breath, pleased that he trusted me to go, and suddenly nervous. “Are you sure we should separate?”

  His eyes showed uncertainty, but he put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently. “It’s midafternoon. Demon dogs hunt dusk to dawn, at least at home. So do most predators. Just don’t cross the river. Don’t go where I can’t see you. Get a better look and come back quickly. I’ll keep Kayleen and Windy safe.”

  I nodded and left, crouching low and moving slowly and as evenly as I could, trying to appear like a normal part of the field. The grass only came to my ankles, providing no cover. At least there was no cover for anything else either. Lizards and small mammals scurried out of my path every few steps, but nothing large appeared to be in the valley except the herd across the river.

  I slowed down even more, conscious of passing time but not wanting to spook the beasts until I got closer. I neared the trees by the river, rising up to a full stand once I reached their meager cover. The air remained still. The river ran about seven meters across near me, but quickly darkening and running deeper. Here and there, tiny fish flashed near the surface. The trees closest to the edge had thrown long ropy roots into the water. Thin green grasses grew from the roots and floated in the current. Trees across from me obscured my view, so I edged north, trying to find the herd.

  A clear spot rewarded me with a great view. The animals had neared the river, perhaps to drink. They were much taller than hebras. Now that they were near the trees, it was clear they could browse the treetops if they wished, and they wouldn’t have to reach very far to do it. I held my breath, watching the apparent herd leader, a great golden animal, come down the break in the trees to stand on the far riverbank, head up, nostrils extended. Its body was sleek, the fur shorter than a hebra’s and its feet more like a bird’s, except wider and sturdier. At least, instead of cloven hooves, I saw three thick toes on the ground for each foot. Halfway between their toes and their knees, sharp claws stuck out to the side on each front leg.

  I breathed out slowly, completely entranced by the animal. It was beautiful, majestic. Big enough for its size alone to demand respect; the top of my head might not reach its chest. I swallowed, holding my breath, doing my best to blend into the trees.

  Three other animals, a dun, the black, and a deep chestnut, bunched at the top of the path, watching the golden leader, waiting. Its gaze swept around, and for just a moment, its dark eyes landed on me. Curiosity flashed in them, and then fear.

  I nearly jumped out of my skin as the golden animal let out a high scream, and the herd wheeled and ran, the leader following. They bounced up and down as they ran, looking awkward, but they were as fast as they were tall. I soon lost sight of them, my view obscured by the trees. They were more beautiful than anything I’d seen on Jini, and it took me long moments to tear my eyes from the place they had been.

  The riverbanks were muddy and well-tracked. The tall beasts had captivated me so much I hadn’t even noticed. Liam would have noticed the tracks earlier.

  I bent down, studying. Small tracks, birds and mammals. I crept back south along the river toward where I’d entered the trees. In one spot, a half-meter path boasted bigger tracks, with four toes and a big pad. Canine or feline? I set my hand down—confirming what my eyes told me. The tracks were nearly as wide as my palm. Reflexively, my hand returned to my side and pulled the small laser gun from my pocket. It was the only thing I carried, not enough against anything big.

  The large tracks went down to the river and disappeared, not returning. So something that could swim? On Jini, paw-cats didn’t swim, although they did cross rivers and streams at fords low enough for them to walk across.

  I glanced again at the sun, wishing Liam were here to look with me. I could just go get them. But we had to start back soon. I jogged up the river further, watching my footing, stepping carefully over roots and stones. I passed where my own tracks ended and kept going, more slowly, breathing hard.

  Something splashed in the water near me.

  I turned my head toward the sound. Ripples spread out from a point. I watched for a moment, but nothing else happened.

  “Chelo!” Kayleen’s scream split the air, off to my left, behind me. I turned and ran toward the sound, clearing the trees in moments. I stopped, looking around. What trouble were they in? My breath and heartbeat pounded in my ears. I couldn’t see them. Liam’s voice, demanding. “To your right!”

  I twisted my head right. How had I missed it? A cat. Not a paw-cat—longer and shorter both—crouching ten meters away and looking at me. It would be fast, but the moment I looked at it, it froze. Golden, like the herd lea
der, with black feet and ears and a black tip to its tail, which twitched. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  It did not seem to know what to make of me, but surely if it chose to, it could catch me. Neither claws nor teeth showed, but they must be there.

  The little laser gun felt cold and hard in my right hand. The lasers didn’t kill fast—the most it would probably do was scare it. I could jump and yell, and try to scare it that way. I could ignore it and walk slowly away, a tactic proven occasionally successful against a single paw-cat if it was already well fed. But I had no idea if this animal was by itself, or if it would act like a paw-cat. I didn’t dare break my gaze away to look, because then it would decide, and perhaps run for me. Not many of its steps separated us.

  There was still no wind; it couldn’t smell my fear.

  It decided, lunging at me. Claws and a mouth and long teeth.

  I jerked my hand up, firing the laser at its face. Every pore of my being wanted to run, but I stood. The cat twisted its face away and the bright color of the laser gun slid down its face to the side. It screamed, an angry, wounded scream, but ducked its head and kept coming.

  Three meters. The cat was as long as I was tall. It crouched. Too far, I thought.

  Then it leaped and I kept the gun on it, ducking at the last second. Not too far.

  Claws raked my scalp. I screamed at the hot sharp pain.

  Far off, Liam and Kayleen both yelled my name. The cat rolled over me. Past me. I lifted my head, blood dripping down my face, obscuring the vision in one eye.

  It gathered itself and ran. Away. The black tip of its tail bobbed unevenly. It stumbled.

  Heart in my throat, adrenaline pounding, I raced behind, aiming the laser at its back, at the great squared head as it turned to look at me. It stood unsteady, then leaped, running again, unevenly. Still fast. I raced after it, breath sharp and hard, feet digging into the low grass.