Reading the Wind (Silver Ship)

by Brenda Cooper

  Marcus frowned. “I never knew him well. He’s strong, but I don’t think he’s as strong as you are. Before they left, he was very intense, always focused on making money to finance the journey. He did that by flying ships between planets.”

  “Like taking stuff from place to place?”

  Marcus shook his head, reaching for some small round green vegetables I didn’t recognize. “People. It’s not much use taking stuff—almost anything can be made anywhere. That, by the way, is why whatever you brought with you from Fremont will fetch you a lot of credit. It’s unique.”

  “We brought some art, but most of it is just scientific samples and stuff.”

  “Newness has value. Whatever you brought here, people will eventually copy it, and change it. If you brought paw-cat DNA, there will be paw-cats on Water Lily by next summer.”

  Akashi would hate that. The West Band always returned captured animals to the wild once they’d studied them. “Isn’t it wrong to sell things just so they can be copied?”

  Marcus pushed his pile of cut vegetables to one side and turned to watch me finish cubing the tomatoes. “Does that mean you think it’s wrong to create things?” He waved a hand at the garden window. “Almost every idea and every thing starts as something we improve on. But there is always a beginning, even if it’s hard to see.”

  Akashi would probably hate everything about this place. But I liked it; I felt I belonged here more than on Fremont. I thought about how to answer Marcus. “I guess that—here—it doesn’t feel wrong. I want to make flowers for the garden—I’m already thinking about what they look like. But Fremont isn’t made, and mixing the two feels strange.”

  “If your parents had succeeded, Fremont would be closer to this place by now. They went there to start with new things. To explore, but also to create. They thought a fresh start would let them create a fantastic world.” He grimaced. “Maybe the paw-cats would be as big as houses.”

  The idea confused me, so I returned to my original questions. “You saw my father after he came back. And I know the Family of Exploration is in trouble of some kind. What did he look like after he got back? How was my father?”

  Marcus held out two cupped hands for the tomatoes and dumped them into the bowl he had been filling with cheese and vegetables. “He looked bitter. His eyes were years older than when he left. I guess, maybe sad, too.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry; I didn’t really notice much more. We aren’t friends—we just know each other.”

  Maybe it would make him happier if he knew I was alive. “Can we find him?”

  “When you can post a find-me query to the webs, you should do that.”

  “But you could post one now!” I protested.

  “How do you know I haven’t?” he asked, and then he started for the table with the bowl of vegetables. I stared at his back, trying to bore holes into it. I did want to learn from him—I needed to. But why couldn’t he be more straightforward? He was just like Jenna!

  As we sat down, I kept pressing. “You said he looked sad. Was he with anyone?”

  “No, I had a drink in a bar with him. Look, he’s likable enough, at least he was, just a little intense. Jenna will probably find him.”

  “When can I see Jenna and the others?”

  He grinned, holding up a hand flat in front of me, signaling a stop. “Maybe that’s where you get your intensity. Maybe it’s inherited. Don’t worry. You haven’t lost them forever.”

  “I promised Alicia I’d stay in touch.”

  “That little slip of hellfire who came with you? I don’t blame you.”

  I nodded, feeling pleased he saw how beautiful she was.

  “Hmmm. First love? Don’t answer. It must be. Jenna will keep her busy. But you and she will both change while you’re here.”

  Duh. “I want to talk to her.”

  He shook his head. “You’re safe with me, but there’s no reason to make this place a target.”

  “A target for what?”

  “Attention. For people who want the power you may eventually have.”

  “Won’t your geo web tell anyone who asks where I am?”

  He looked pleased with himself. “No. I blocked queries about your whereabouts.”

  Meaning the webs didn’t report out that I was here automatically? “So not all data can be relied on?” I asked.

  He looked at me as if I was asking whether the moons were made of water. He shook his head. “Only a stronger, wiser Wind Reader could get in here.”

  And of course, there weren’t any. Maybe pride was his biggest weakness, too. It didn’t seem like the right thing for me to say, so I dug into my salad, wondering if it was prison food or school food.

  PART THREE

  SETTLING ISLANDIA

  18

  SEED STEALERS

  Dirt coated my fingertips as I twisted tiny weeds into my palm, yanking them from under the bushy tops of young carrots. A red bird landed on the top crossbar of our small greenhouse. The bird pecked at the clear plastic, leaving whitish marks where its long black beak nearly punctured the roof. Liam had named it a “black-throated red seed-stealer” in a fit of pique. The many bright, long-beaked, wild birds were a plague, stealing seedlings and anything bright and shiny we left out. At this rate, if we did winter here, we’d be living on forage.

  Maybe we could eat the birds.

  I threw the weeds aside and stood outside, blinking in the bright sunshine. The steady thwack … scrape … clunk … thwack of Liam cutting wood was nearly obscured by the waterfall. I sighed, already exhausted after a morning’s work. Our now-strong perimeter had screamed at the ever-hopeful demon dogs three times last night. Good for us; bad for our sleep.

  The perimeters kept large predators at bay, but I watched my footing for snakes and trap-spiders as I walked past the waterfall, stopping only when I reached the top of the rocky path that led to our little encampment, which we’d dubbed West Home in honor of the band we might never see again.

  We’d made no progress freeing the skimmer.

  At the path’s summit, I looked down over Golden Cat Valley. Kayleen raced along a path she and Windy had worn to dirt across the center of the valley. The hebra followed her, keeping up easily. They ran through white, purple, and blue flowers peppering the knee-high grass, Kayleen’s black hair streaming behind her. She began twisting away from the path, keeping Windy right behind her with voice command, training her to follow. It was only in this daily race and play that Kayleen ever looked truly happy.

  Liam came up next to me, his bare torso clothed in sweat from chopping wood. My belly warmed and my cheeks flushed at his nearness. He pursed his lips, ready, I was sure, to tell me what we needed to do next. We’d been here nearly seven weeks, and every day had its long list of tasks. We’d set and re-set the perimeter, hauled piles of goods from the skimmer, built a one-room house and small corral, set up the greenhouse, and explored the valley. Still, it was nowhere near enough. I expected to be building food or wood storage next, so I looked up in surprise when Liam said, “I think we should go west. I want to pack today and head for the Fire River tomorrow.”

  Much more fun than endless woodcutting. “Your roaming blood is telling,” I teased, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “You haven’t complained about missing home for a whole day.”

  He narrowed his eyes at Kayleen and Windy below us. “We’ll get home if I have to build a boat.”

  “Right. A day’s flight is a month’s sail, even if we had the materials.” I lifted my face for a kiss. He leaned down and took my offer, but only for a brief brushing of the lips.

  “I miss being alone with you.” I said it softly, but loud enough that he heard me.

  He kissed me again, just as briefly, then looked down at the valley, the girl, and the hebra. I took his chin in my hand and turned his face back toward me. “She’s not here to see us right now. Kiss me.”

  He did, periodically glancing at the valley. Intimacy had become tough.

 
“I hate it that you’re watching for her,” I said.

  He pulled me in close. “I’m sorry. It’s just … so awkward. When we’re close, she looks so hungry.”

  “She chose this,” I whispered. But I’d given in, too, letting a combination of exhaustion and unease keep me from doing more than just curling next to him in a tangle of limbs at night. Our tiny house offered no privacy except during Kayleen’s watch, and of course, she was awake then. “We should start the second house soon,” I said.

  “I wish.”

  I took his hand. There were a million other things that mattered more. We sat quietly, watching Kayleen race. She’d placed six long-range warning perimeter nodes along the sides of the valley, so it had become a reasonably safe place as long as Kayleen was around to read them. Unlike the more sophisticated equipment we’d used protecting West Home, these didn’t deliver audible warnings.

  He glanced at me. “Are you up for it? The river? It will be at least a two-day trip. Probably more.”

  “All of us?” I knew the answer. We never left the perimeter unless we were all together.

  “We can use Windy to pack. She’s strong enough now; I’ve seen Kayleen on her back a few times, although standing still.” He winked. “After all, Kayleen told us she brought Windy for a pack animal.”

  “Right. Damned hebra’s almost her dog.” The friendly green-striped beast remained her closest confidante. If I didn’t like her too, I’d have been jealous instead of just concerned. “Sure, I’ll go. We’ve got to learn more about this place sometime.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Now who sounds like the roamer?”

  A few moments later, Kayleen and Windy made their way up to us, sweat glistening on Kayleen’s bare shoulders and soaking Windy’s chest and withers. “Good morning,” Kayleen said cheerfully as she neared us, her eyes shining with exercise adrenaline. “I saw some of the tall-beasts near the end of the valley.”

  “Did you get close?” Liam asked.

  She shook her head. Our perimeter kept them out of West Home, and the herd had shrunk by two after one night when the demons bayed hunt for hours. They kept a polite distance from us, no matter how small and insignificant we tried to appear.

  “Are you up for a trip?” Liam asked carefully.

  Kayleen’s eyes widened. “There’s too much to do.”

  We started down the path toward home, Windy picking her way carefully between the rocks just ahead of us. Kayleen added, “I don’t want to take her out there yet. She’s not completely trained.”

  “She follows you pretty well now,” I pointed out.

  Kayleen looked back at me. “I’m not risking her past the valley.”

  “We have to explore sometime,” Liam said. “Best when we can count on the weather. We’ll hunt the valley out if we never leave.”

  Kayleen kept slightly ahead of us, hiding her face. Her shoulders had stiffened. “It’s not safe out there.”

  Liam caught up to her and pulled her around gently to face him. “I know you’re used to living in a town. Artistos has enough resources inside the perimeters, but we don’t. We haven’t got enough crop started to feed a child, much less all three of us.”

  She pulled away from him and searched our faces. But at least, not crazy. The crazy look almost never touched her anymore. She dropped her head and looked away. “Can we wait a while? We need to build some place to store grass for Windy.”

  Liam’s voice sounded soft, almost as if he talked to a child. “We’ll help you do that today. And tonight, we should pack up. We’ll only be gone a few days.”

  She didn’t answer. Group decision-making had evolved into two against one when we disagreed, and Kayleen surely knew she’d lost this battle.

  “Come on,” I said. “We have a big enough pile of logs to at least start a storage bin.”

  She grimaced, then shrugged, as if pretending it didn’t matter to her. She took my hand and said, “All right.” As if by an act of sheer will, she moved quickly in front of us, ready to start work in the frenetic, focused attitude that drove her all day. She only seemed to feel safe when she worked so hard that sweat poured from her.

  Late that afternoon, the shelter over half built, she and I took a short break. We perched on the rocks rimming the pool, sitting close to each other, the waterfall’s spray coating our hair with tiny jewels. She turned to look at me, droplets like freckles on her face, her legs dangling so one extra-long toe skimmed the water. Her arms lay crossed in her lap, still. Kayleen moved all the time—stillness telegraphed control and fear for her.

  Her blue eyes gazed steadily at me and she spoke loudly to fight the waterfall’s tendency to whip sound into its own rush. “Chelo. You and Liam, you shut me out. There’s three of us. You can’t always shut me out. There’s no one for me but you two, no mate except Liam.” Her words rushed out as fast as the waterfall. “And you’re in the same boat. You know neither of us could stand to be with someone unaltered.” She uncrossed her arms and her trailing foot twitched, making cross-wakes in the waterfall’s ripples.

  I pulled my knees in tight to my chest and made myself small.

  She didn’t wait for me to answer. “You know this. You’re our leader. Or maybe you and Liam, together. You’re supposed to see the future, see that we need to stay family.” She reached a hand out toward me, but let it fall back into her lap, turning her gaze out to the waterfall. She mouthed the word “please,” or perhaps she said it out loud and the waterfall took it, since she no longer faced me.

  I felt as if I tottered at the top of the waterfall, ready to plunge, only I couldn’t tell which way to jump to miss the worst of the rocks in the bottom of the pool. Really, I hadn’t had a clue how to answer, except that I knew Liam wouldn’t choose to be with her, not now, anyway. He was still too mad at her for stealing his summer. So I cleared my throat. “It’s not my choice to make, not entirely. I think you need to talk to Liam and me about it together.”

  I couldn’t tell if the fresh water on her cheeks was from her eyes or the waterfall. She shook her head. “Not yet. I can’t talk to him yet. I can barely talk to him at all. I hoped you would talk to him.”

  It took three long breaths to find words to answer her. “I don’t know how, and you’re right, it’s not time.” I stood and leapt out over the rocks into a deep part of the pool, cleaving the water cleanly and shallowly, swimming toward the spot where the waterfall plunged into the pool. I fought toward the falling water until I was completely exhausted, kicking, managing at best to stay in one place, struggling, going nowhere. The roar of the waterfall and the gritty smell of the sharp, wet rocks filled me.

  I forgot Kayleen and her request, and Liam, and that Joseph was gone. I gave myself to the fall and the pool so completely that when I crawled back onto the rocks I lay, panting, unable to move.

  When I sat up, Kayleen was gone.

  19

  THE RIVER

  Early the next afternoon, we left our safe haven and struck up the opposite ridge along a path Liam had found a week after we landed. The long climb took us nearly two hours. We stopped for a moment at the top of the ridge. Looking behind us, I couldn’t see our valley at all. Golden Cat Valley, of course, but the waterfall—West Home—all of that was well hidden. The Fire River wasn’t yet visible—at least three ridges separated us. Probably more. We’d decided to cut through the next valley, exploring, and then go along the north coast.

  The cave was halfway down the ridge, overlooking a valley much like Golden Cat Valley, except twice as wide, and home to a much larger river. Herds of grazers moved slowly down the valley. Not djuri. Taller and rounder and slower. Apparently they made up what they lost in speed with an aggressive breeding program. Kayleen had spotted them first, making their way across the wide end of Golden Cat Valley in a long, fat line. She had named them “blazes grazers.”

  We stopped in front of the cave, looking around. Ten meters wide and five deep, the cave was flooded with light from the late afternoo
n sun. “We’ll sleep here,” Liam said. “At least I know it’s safe.”

  Kayleen drew her brows together. “We have two more of the long-range nodes like I have in the valley. I think I’ll set them up here. This would be a good place to hide if we ever need to.”

  “Hide from what?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “The dogs. The golden cats. Anything. What if our perimeter breaks somehow?”

  Liam looked up and down the wide path to the cave. “Something hoofed and heavy made this path. I’m not sure how safe it really is, since there’ll be predators around any path that prey takes. Still … we might as well use the nodes.”

  I peered in. A pile of wood sat pre-stacked against one wall. The floor was rocky, fairly flat, and dry. Toward the back, the cave ended in a jumble of rocks.

  I turned to Kayleen, who held Windy’s halter tightly. Windy’s head was up, her eyes big enough to show the whites surrounding her huge green-brown pupils. “She smells something she doesn’t like,” Kayleen said, stroking the hebra’s neck.

  “There’s some kind of small animal that lives in here, or at least visits. I spotted some tracks in the dust last time I was here.” He started picking up wood and moving it to the ledge in front of the cave. “We should keep a fire going all night.”

  Kayleen started into the cave, leading Windy. A tiny low-slung animal with a bushy black tail darted from the woodpile and fled out the door. Windy backed away, snorting, pulling Kayleen back. She and Kayleen disappeared from sight around the corner. Liam and I laughed, and after a minute, we heard Kayleen’s laughter joining ours. So they hadn’t gone far. “Is that all?” Kayleen called.

  Liam poked at the woodpile with a sharp stick until he dislodged two more of the little beasts, one of them hissing and snapping as it ran. At the bottom of the woodpile, he found a nest with three perfectly formed little brown eggs in it. He frowned. “Odd for a mammal to lay eggs.” He looked around. “Well, they won’t come back, now, anyway.” He carried the little nest carefully out the door. “Maybe they’ll find their eggs,” he said doubtfully, then called, “All clear,” to Kayleen.