Reading the Wind (Silver Ship)

by Brenda Cooper

  We arrived at Paloma’s without passing a soul on the road. Kayleen pushed the door open, walking into the darkened house and calling out, “Mom,” in a loud whisper.

  Paloma emerged from her storeroom, holding a flashlight beam down, so her face was all shadows. As usual, the scent of drying herbs followed her. “Kayleen? Baby.” She looked around, and must have recognized us even in the near-darkness. A long sigh escaped her lips. “Chelo. Liam. I’m so glad to see you.” She stepped up next to Kayleen, putting a hand to her daughter’s face. “Are you okay? Where were you?”

  She looked down at Kayleen’s rounded stomach and fell silent. Then she put a hand out and touched it. She looked at Liam, then me, blinking as if we’d told her it was dusk at the crack of dawn.

  Kayleen moaned softly into the dark quiet. “I’ll explain later.” She reached for Paloma, drawing her into an embrace. “I’m not sure any of us are okay. We just got back from Islandia, and we need to talk to the Town Council. There’s people over there that want to kill you, kill us.” She paused a moment, collecting herself. “I want you to go with me to talk to Council.”

  This didn’t surprise Paloma as much as Kayleen’s pregnancy. “I’d hoped Gianna was making up monsters.” She pushed back from her daughter. “But she wasn’t, was she?”

  Liam stepped forward. “No, she wasn’t. Can you come with us now?”

  “Let me put away a few things.” Paloma turned back into her office, leaving us in the darkness. Rustling and small clanks accompanied swings of the light, and then she came back out. “Let’s go.”

  We headed up the street toward my old house, where Joseph and I had lived with Steven and Therese before they died. After that, Nava and Tom took over as the colony’s leaders and moved in, keeping us with them, as if we were furniture that went with the house.

  I could have found my way to that house of sweet and bitter memories in complete darkness.

  The house sat near the edge of town, surrounded by trees that heralded the near edge of the Lace Forest. The Lace River ran in front of and below the house, in a deep channel carved by years of winter-melt water. Faint light showed inside the kitchen, too pale to spill out the windows. Liam knocked.

  Nava opened the door. Paloma held her flashlight so Nava could see us, and we could see Nava’s face, as if her pale skin, green eyes, and long red hair floated alone above the dark. “Stile told me you were back. Come in.” She turned and we four followed her into the kitchen. Two candles burned low on the small table, which held glasses of tea and dried apples. Bowls and spoons left over from dinner sat in the sink and djuri stew cooled in a pot on the stove. The scent of meat, potatoes, and spices hung in the air.

  Nava’s round-faced and kind husband, Tom, wiped up the counter by the sink. Hunter sat at the table, looking even older and more emaciated than usual. His eyes were dark pebbles buried in wrinkles. His gnarled hands rested on the table, one of them shaking as if he had no control over it. The other rested quietly. He spoke first, looking at Kayleen. I thought he’d mention our pregnancy, but the first thing he said was, “You left us.”

  I chewed on the inside of my mouth. This was Hunter, and he should be admonishing us for being immature idiots or threatening to throw us into jail, not speaking softly to Kayleen. “We came back to warn you, Hunter,” I said. “Artistes is in danger.”

  He nodded. “I’m listening.”

  “Do you want to call the rest of the High Council?” I asked.

  Nava furrowed her brow, glancing at Hunter. “Not now, not at this time of night. We are the War Council, anyway.”

  I’d never heard of the War Council.

  Hunter said, “We’ll hear you out first.”

  Tom bustled about making tea. Nava sat at the table, watching us closely, and Hunter, next to her, closed his eyes, as if he wanted to hear us and not see us. Kayleen and Paloma sat together, Paloma a little behind her daughter since the table was really only designed for six. Liam was between me and Kayleen. Kayleen looked at Hunter, then Nava, then Tom. Then she looked over at us. “I took Chelo and Liam to Islandia. It was my fault we went.” She looked around the table. “I’m sorry.”

  Paloma gave a small, unsurprised smile, but Nava’s mouth turned down and she glared disapproval at Kayleen. Tom set four steaming mugs of redberry tea in front of us, and sat down in the seat next to me. He, too, smiled at Kayleen, as if he and Paloma both found something positive in her instant admission. But then, Tom and Paloma always seemed to think alike.

  Before anyone could press Kayleen more, I jumped in, telling the story from when we saw the Dawnforce, putting in as many details as I could remember about the mercenaries and their ship. Liam added bits I forgot and talked about the diversion he and Kayleen created with the demon dogs and our surprise attack. Kayleen added things she’d learned inside of their nets. Nava or Paloma interrupted from time to time with questions. Hunter kept his eyes closed, and didn’t interrupt at all.

  While Kayleen talked, I catalogued the signs of age in all of them: Hunter’s thin, scaly skin marred by age spots, the deep wrinkles that made canyons in his cheeks, the streaks of gray in Paloma’s hair. Even Tom and Nava had developed faint creases around their eyes.

  That was another advantage the mercenaries had—more physical energy.

  After we told them everything we could, the room fell silent except for the rattle of teacups against the table. Tom brought us bowls of cold stew. I didn’t think I could eat until the bowl was in front of me. I ate. We all did.

  When it seemed the silence was about to pop open of its own accord, Nava cleared her throat, looked at the old man next to her, and said, “Hunter?”

  Hunter opened his eyes. “You did well.” He looked at me, then Liam, then Kayleen, then back to me. “Are you with us? Can we count on you?”

  “Of course we are,” I said.

  “We’re here,” Liam said.

  Kayleen cleared her throat. Her voice shook. “I will help protect the town. In fact, you need me to. I’m the only one here who can get inside their nets, inside their heads. I’ll have a chance of understanding their plans. But I’ll need my freedom.” She regarded Nava calmly. The fingers of Kayleen’s right hand drummed against her leg. “I will not just take orders anymore.”

  Nava looked back at her, her brows drawn together. “Everyone takes orders. Even me, sometimes.”

  “Then I want no more orders than anybody else that lives here. If you ask me for things, I’ll probably do them. I mean, I want to help. But I can do things you don’t even know about, and I’ll have to spend more time on our nets, and we’re a family now.” She looked at Nava as if daring her to respond.

  For whatever reason, Nava held her tongue.

  Hunter said, “I can see that,” his face showing no emotion at all, as if Kayleen’s words laid a mask over his eyes and lips.

  Tom said, “Congratulations,” and the word fell awkwardly between us all.

  “Thanks,” I said, my word as flat as Tom’s. They didn’t like it, but they weren’t kicking us out of town for it. At least not today. I could imagine the conversations they’d have after we left.

  Kayleen smiled sweetly at Nava, cocking her head, as if she were a five-year-old who hadn’t been after the sugar-wheat cookies. I was afraid she’d say something else, but she just said, “I’d like to go to work on the nets as soon as we’re done.”

  Maybe Nava realized she wasn’t going to be able to make Kayleen do anything. “We’d appreciate that.” Her words sounded so sharp that Tom and Paloma both turned their heads and gazed at her, and Hunter lifted a hand, the index finger extended up, as if issuing a warning. Nava just drew her lips tighter. There was a time, right before and right after the New Making had left, when Nava relaxed some about us. Now, there was no trace of anything except resentment and frustration on her face.

  Kayleen focused on Hunter. He had led the last war, the only war ever on Fremont. Campfire songs suggested that without Hunter, Artist
os would have lost. She stood and walked around the table to where he sat, knelt down in front of him, and took his shaking, thin hand in hers. “Hunter, we’re with you. We are not like these people. We don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

  His lips curled up in a faint smile. “That’s a good thing.”

  But when I glanced up at Nava, I could tell she didn’t like the idea of needing us at all.

  38

  THE WEST BAND

  The next day, I rode a dull hebra named Jiko up a thin trail winding through the high, wooded foothills toward Rage and the West Band. Liam rode in front of me, following faint wagon ruts, his bronze skin shining in the sun where his arms poked out of his sleeveless shirt. He’d washed his hair and I’d combed it and braided it carefully.

  Kayleen rode next to me, constantly scanning the sky as if she watched for predators. Or skimmers. As if to belie our danger, the bright springlike bloom of the high meadow in summer surrounded us. Way up here, the rich scent of multicolored flowers filled the air, even though the Grass Plains below Artistos were already yellow at the base of the stalks. We rode across a long grassy meadow, heading for trees on the far side. Yellow and white flowers poked above the high green grass and brushed the hebras’ bellies.

  Behind us, Tom and Paloma rode side by side, deep in serious conversation.

  As we neared the edge of the long high meadow, movement in front of us caught my attention. A tall, dark-haired woman with long legs, a tiny waist, and well-defined biceps stepped from under a tent tree just in front of Liam, holding up her right hand to signal him to stop. She looked grave, although her blue eyes sparkled. I leaned over to Kayleen. “That’s Alyksa. She’s the best scout in the band. Always finds the djuri herds.”

  “She looks strong,” Kayleen said.

  Liam pulled his borrowed hebra, Duke, to a slower pace and then stopped just in front of her. Alyksa took one of Duke’s reins. Kayleen and I rode up close to them. I expected Alyksa to smile and welcome us home, but she pursed her lips and kept her feet in a ready stance, one she could run or fight from. Her first words were, “We’ll need to escort you in. You must wait.” And then, in response to his incredulous look, she added, “Even you.” Only then, her duty discharged, did she break into a smile to match the clear pleasure in her eyes at seeing us.

  Tom and Paloma rode up. Alyksa kept her smile, clearly recognizing them. She looked back at Liam, and then me. “Welcome home.”

  Liam nodded at her. “Thank you.” He and I shared a brief, confused glance. The West Band had always kept watchers, but they watched for trouble and let our people pass.

  He turned back to Alyksa. “How are Akashi and Mayah?”

  “Worried.”

  I caught a slight movement as tree limbs shivered and then parted far behind Alyksa, then smiled as I recognized Akashi, on foot. I leaned far over and poked Liam in the shoulder. “Ask him yourself.”

  Liam turned and slid from his hebra in a single fluid motion. He raced toward his dad, leaving Alyksa holding his hebra’s reins. The scout grimaced, then shrugged, patting the hebra briefly.

  Akashi, too, broke into a run, his face bright with excitement.

  I stayed put, watching them race into each other’s arms. Liam had grown; Akashi’s head barely came to his adopted son’s shoulder. Akashi’s long gray hair had been shorn, and his shoulders slumped inward. Liam patted his father’s back, his face cocked a bit to one side so his cheek rested on Akashi’s head. They stayed that way for a long moment before separating and looking at each other.

  I grabbed the rough, knotted mounting rope and slid carefully from Jiko’s back, wishing yet again that I rode Stripes instead of this docile and unremarkable beast. I thrust my reins into Alyksa’s outstretched hand and stood watching Akashi and Liam.

  Shortly, Akashi gestured for me to come. I fell into his arms, drinking in the scent of leather and campfire smoke and sweat. Hot tears of relief surprised me, streaking unbidden down my cheeks. His dark eyes also held tears, hanging in the corners but not falling.

  “I missed you,” I said, my voice nearly breaking.

  He pulled me even closer. “I missed you, too.” He pushed me a little away, keeping his grip on my waist, looking up at me. His dark eyes shone with mischief. “That’s Liam’s baby?”

  I nodded, and he pointed at Kayleen. “That one, too?”

  I bit my lip, suddenly afraid. I gave a small nod, and Akashi said, “Not surprised. Congratulations.” I blew out a long, relieved breath.

  Akashi turned to Liam. “Where did you go?”

  Liam swallowed. “Islandia.”

  Akashi raised an eyebrow, and I broke in. “Kayleen took us. It’s a long story. We would have told you.”

  Akashi pulled Liam close as well, so the three of us stood together in a single embrace. “I know you would have. At least you’re back, now.” Akashi looked toward the group, his brows furrowed. “We are being inhospitable.”

  He let us go and greeted the other three. We followed him down a wide, wooded path until we came to a clearing. Liam clutched my hand and stopped as we emerged from the trees; his eyes narrowed as he scanned the camp. Even though I had only been to a few summer camps before, I could immediately tell this was different.

  Usually, the band’s wagons gathered in a rough circle, bunched together to provide protection in numbers. Here, wagons lay tucked separately under trees, with at least one person near each one. Goats and hebras grazed, most tied on long-lines or staked to the ground near the wagons instead of together in quick-build corrals like usual. Children walked through camp in pairs, or larger groups, carrying water, leading goats, and talking quietly. Summer-fat camp dogs hung close to the children’s feet, ever-watchful. The camp smelled right—of drying meat and ash and animals, but the scents seemed as subdued as the movement and noise.

  “We moved here the day after Gianna called us,” Akashi said quietly. “There are twice as many border scouts on duty as usual.”

  I finally spotted my little wagon. Stripes grazed placidly next to it, and Sasha sat in the seat working on some project, her dark head bent over whatever she was doing, the streak of white in her hair clearly visible. I wanted to race over to her, but the camp’s differences reminded me of why we’d come. I leaned over to Akashi. “Is there a place we can talk? We’re bringing bad news.”

  He sighed. “I thought you might be.”

  Alyksa and two young men walked by with our mounts.

  Kiara looked over and spotted us, then called out, “Hey, look!” to Abyl, her best friend. The two of them did everything together, including parking their wagons next to each other, and now they came to greet us together, two sturdy, wide middle-aged women. Sasha looked up at the movement and dropped whatever she held in her lap. She leapt from the high wagon seat, landing in a dead run, beating Kiara and Abyl to our sides. Stripes raised her head and bugled. Soon, we were surrounded by half the band, calling to us, greeting us, asking for news. Kayleen, Tom, and Paloma stood together just outside the flow of people, watching, wide-eyed.

  Akashi, too, watched, smiling at the crowd. After the first rush of noisy, happy greeting ended, he looked over at Liam. “Do you want to talk to me, or to the band?”

  Liam raised a single eyebrow at me. I wanted to catch up with everyone, but it would be hard to talk to so many people at once. “Akashi and the Chiefs,” I mouthed.

  So we started our story yet again. But this time we spoke to the most competent people on Fremont.

  39

  SASHA’S SASH

  When we finished the meeting, I stepped outside. The midafternoon sun assaulted my eyes, forcing me to blink and look away for a moment. Liam had stayed behind to talk with his mom and dad, and Kayleen had already headed off with Cho, the band librarian, the two of them chattering about the data library like old friends. I went straight for my wagon.

  Sasha had returned to the front bench, her hands and her project back in her lap. Her smile looked like my h
eart felt, bright and full. I snuggled up close to her and put my arm around her slender shoulders. She was a roamer—more capable by far than a townie—and now just months short of being a full adult and getting her own wagon and animals. She’d clearly cared well for mine—the outside walls and the seat were clear of dust and the metal wheel-hubs shone. My voice broke as I said, “I missed you so.”

  She set her work down on her lap, covering it slightly with her open hand, as if hiding it from me. “What’s happening?” she asked. “Everybody is worried about a ship, and then you came back in one, but it’s not you they’re worried about, is it?”

  I shook my head, and told her the tale of the mercenaries and Islandia.

  She didn’t interrupt, but just sat quietly, her eyes focused in front of her. From experience, I knew she wouldn’t miss a word. At the end, she looked up at me. “What now? What will the Council and Akashi and his Chiefs do?”

  “We’re taking most of the people out of Artistos and grouping them with members of the two bands, sending people off in small groups as if they were roamers.”

  “But won’t small groups have more trouble defending themselves?”

  “Yes.” I had raised that topic in the meeting. “But Artistos is not built to be defended. It can be attacked from three sides—from the High Road going down, from the side where we have the farms and hebra barns and stuff, and from the air.” I winced, picturing our cabin and greenhouse blown up, Windy dying in the paddock. “The Star Mercenaries have at least five skimmers and maybe they can even use their big ship to attack us. I don’t know about that.”

  She frowned, and went right to the heart of the matter. “It’s going to be tough to live out here with townies. They don’t know what to do. Some of them will die.”

  I sighed. “If everyone stays in town, maybe they’ll all die at once. This isn’t very good, but it’s better. Besides, I asked for you and Sky to come to our cave. That’s where Kayleen and Liam and I will be, and I want you with me. I’ll need friends.”