by Sharon Joss
“I am sorry for your loss.”
“In Khirjah we say, be at peace. He runs with the great herd.”
“Be at peace. He runs with the great herd.” He met the old man’s knowing gaze. “My brother came to Aurum four years ago and disappeared. I came here to find him. The other day, I spotted one of his friends. When I confronted him about my brother, he tricked me, and ran off with one of the Arkady racing traggahs. K’Sati and I chased him into this forest, but then I got bit by one of those poisonous tree lizards.”
“You mean K’Sati Apai.”
“You know her? She dropped me off at the temple, but they went back to the coast. Golden Boy had a big to run.” Renly helped Okoro rewrap the portraits of his son and place them in the cabinet.
He nodded. “We spoke to her as she passed by on her way to the temple. You were unconscious. She asked about your friend, and we told her he had passed by less than ten minutes ahead of her. But she has not come back yet. Neither of them has passed this way.”
He frowned. “That can’t be. At the temple, they told me they both left the next day. Golden Boy had a race to run. Maybe you didn’t see them. Maybe they didn’t stop.”
“This is the only road leading through the forest from the temple back to the coast. All travelers pass this place. Other than the spring at the edge of the forest, we have the only water and shelter for miles. Our traggahs would have alerted us to them. They would have stopped.”
Renly shook his head. “Why would they tell me she’d gone back to the coast?”
The old man and his wife exchanged a weighty look.
“What? Tell me.”
“K’Sati was raised by the temple. We knew her as a young acolyte. She would come here to speak to our traggahs; and she could really speak to them. They would whistle excitedly every time they saw her!” Rima’s eyes shone with the memory. “She could charm the lizards right out of the trees, just by sitting quietly. Oh, you should have seen her.”
“She was a wild little thing. As she grew older, she hated the idea of spending the rest of her life confined within the temple. She ran away many times before she came of age. Until she stopped by with you last week, we had not seen her in many years.” Rima looked worried. “She was reluctant to go back to the temple, but you looked near death. She had no choice.”
“I do not imagine K’Takiweah would allow her to leave,” Okoro added. “Her ability to communicate with the traggahs is a blessing from the goddess.”
He remembered the cold woman from the temple. He instinctively disliked her. “Would she do that? Keep her against her will?”
“She has not come back this way. Nor has the young man she was following. Yesterday, four men from Arkady Mining came through here on lithium-powered sleds, asking about her and the missing traggahs. We told them to check at the temple.”
* * *
Renly lay on the narrow pallet Rima made up for him in front of the fireplace, exhausted, but unable to sleep. Memories of the past and his recent dreams and experiences merged into worrisome thoughts and unanswered questions.
Why hadn’t the temple Mother or any of the priestesses told him there were people looking for him? They had no reason not to tell him. He had seen no one on the road. If they had stopped at the temple, what had they been told, and where were they now? Perhaps Okoro and his wife misunderstood. Or perhaps, K’Sati and Paul took a different route back to the coast. A shortcut. That was why Okoro and Rima hadn’t seen them.
Of course Wayne would have been told about his accident when they arrived back at the stables. And it made sense that Wayne would come on sleds to carry him back to the coast. But why would Wayne bring so many people, if all he was only planning to pick him up at the temple? That didn’t make sense, either.
Wayne and his men had to be searching for them. Searching for Golden Boy, at any rate. The only reason they hadn't found him was because someone at the temple had said he wasn't there. The temple Mother must have lied to them too, just as she’d lied to him. She’d deliberately misdirected them.
They were looking in the wrong place; they would never find him. He might as well be lost.
Like the body of Okoro’s son was lost.
Like Garrett was lost.
Long-forgotten memories he’d tried so hard to forget began to surface
As a kid he’d always hated that Garrett and his best friend Paul got to do whatever they wanted just because they were older. It wasn’t fair that he was restricted to playing in the yard or the stable. Sometimes, the boys from Garrett’s class would ride their bikes over after school and hang out behind the stables. Renly discovered that as long as he kept out of sight, he could eavesdrop on them and imagine he was one of them. They talked about girls and played dice and cards and drank. When Garrett received his Personal Transport Vehicle for his sixteenth birthday, the boys stopped riding bikes. They stopped coming over, and the only time Renly ever saw his brother was when he tried to follow him, which Garrett hated.
Garrett attended the local university, and after much sneaky trial and error, Renly gradually discovered his various hangouts. Paul didn’t go to college; he lived in a not-very-nice part of the entertainment district. In spite of the squalor and dreariness of the neighborhood, Garrett and all his friends always ended up at Paul’s. Paul knew people. Dangerous people. Renly found himself irresistibly drawn to Paul’s house, just like Garrett and his friends. Exotically dressed women and men with neon tattoos and diamond-studded teeth paraded in and out of the house at all hours.
Renly made himself a hidey hole outside Paul’s kitchen window, in the oleander bushes bordering the house next door; a perfect vantage point for observing people coming and going, but after they went inside, he couldn’t hear what they said. The second spot was less secure; a shallow lair he’d hollowed out beneath an overturned cast-off sofa in the back yard. Close enough to the kitchen window so he could hear everything in the kitchen and back bedrooms, but difficult to get in or out of without being seen.
When Garrett caught him one day, on his bike a block away from Paul’s place, he had a fit. Renly tried to tell him he wasn’t doing anything, but of course Garret didn’t buy it. His brother whipped him with his belt until he cried like a baby, and made him swear never to spy on him again. He told him if he ever caught him anywhere near the place, he would make him very sorry.
But he couldn’t stay away. He told himself he wasn’t spying. He told himself he was worried about Garrett, but that wasn’t it. He pretended to be worried about Paul and his friends making Garrett do things he shouldn’t be doing, but that wasn’t it either. It was the thrill that called to him, and even as he knew he shouldn’t be there, he couldn’t stop himself. Paul’s house became a magnet for him; a drug he could not ignore.
The weekend after Garrett moved out of their parents' house, Renly rode his bike over to Paul’s and hid in the oleander shrub, watching the people come and go. Garrett was there! He was living there!
They were having a party; personal transport vehicles filled the street outside. A group of men showed up and left guards at the front door. Anyone who tried to come inside the house was turned away. He decided to try to get closer.
His heart pounded as he crept quietly toward the overturned couch in the back yard. A group of big men were in the kitchen with Garrett and Paul. The man who spoke had a soft voice. Such a quiet, calm voice, it was difficult to hear over the booming music blasting from the house across the street. He could just barely see Garrett through the window of the lighted kitchen. He looked scared. There was no moon out tonight.
Renly crept closer.
From where he crouched, just below the kitchen window, he couldn’t see the man with the soft voice, but he heard Garrett pleading. It sounded like he was crying. Paul too. The sound of grunts and groans came to him. The soft voice wanted the money they owed him. Garrett and Paul kept saying they didn’t have it, and begged for more time. The soft voice told them they would need to g
ive something of value to hold until they paid what they owed…
* * *
He awoke before dawn, shivering in front of the cold fireplace. From a peg near the door, he slipped a battered sleeveless leather jacket over his thin shirt. Too big to be Okoro’s; perhaps the fleece-lined garment had been left behind by a previous guest. No matter; at this hour in the morning, the frigid air held a nasty bite, and the heavy leather offered the only warmth.
Silverbeard stomped his feet in warning and shook his head as Renly approached the big traggah’s stall. He’d asked Okoro to help him with the animal, but the old man told him he had no such powers to communicate with the traggahs; even his own. He suggested food and care as the only way to earn the traggah’s trust, but Silverbeard had put his ears back when he’d fed him the previous evening. He couldn’t afford to build the animal’s trust over time; he needed to do something to win the animal over to him now.
He slipped handful of grain from the storage bin into each of the jacket’s pockets, then gave a slight bow and gave the traggah the traditional Khirjahni greeting. “I am but one of many. I am herd.”
The traggah looked away.
“You are herd to me, Silverbeard.” Using a small cup, he measured out a quantity of grain and dropped it into the traggah’s feed trough.
Silverbeard eagerly began to eat.
As the creature focused on his food, Renly picked up a curry brush and entered the traggah’s stall. Tentatively, he began to brush the beast’s broad, wide side. Silverbeard ignored him, but stomped his rear hoof as a warning, just as the horses at his parents stable had. Renly knew as long as he didn’t interfere with the animal’s dining, he would be allowed to proceed.
He ran the stiff-bristled brush across the traggah’s close-clipped hide with firm strokes. “There you go, big guy,” he spoke softly. Silverbeard seemed more buffalo than horse, more moose than antelope. More wild than domesticated. He had never had his hands on such a powerful animal.
“I need your help. We’ve got to go back for K’Sati. You know K’Sati?” Renly fixed a mental picture of the young woman in his mind.
Silverbeard stopped eating long enough to glance over his shoulder at him for a moment, and then turned back to the trough.
Certainly, the traggah seemed to understand, or at least respond to K’Sati’s name. His ears no longer lay flattened against his skull. K’Sati had been convinced he could communicate with the traggahs. If ever there was a time to do so, now was it. He leaned against Silverbeard and spoke softly, echoing the words he spoke in his mind. “We must to go back to the temple and find K’Sati. We must go now. Will you allow me to ride you?”
The traggah backed away from the empty trough, snorting, and shaking his head. He pawed at the hay on the floor. It didn’t take an empath to figure out what he meant.
Renly sighed and shook his head. He couldn’t understand why these creatures were so difficult to control; especially since they adapted so easily to racing. They were intelligent, he knew. They were herd animals; K’Sati said they naturally wanted to bond. Maybe she was right; it wouldn’t hurt to try. He remembered what Rima told him about calling the wild traggahs and decided to try.
He took a handful of grain and backed into the far corner of the stall, and eased himself down into the straw. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply; each exhalation emptying his mind of thought, using the same technique he’d used as a kid when he was looking for Garrett. He opened his mind.
I am Renly. I am but one of many. My herd is far away, and I am alone. I would bond with you, Silverbeard, if you allow it. You carried me to help when I was poisoned and in return, I pledge my friendship to you. I will feed you and care for you and warn you of danger as long as I am able. You are herd to me, Silverbeard.
A moment later, he felt the warm breath of the traggah along his cheek. In his mind, a bright light flared, like the flame of a single candle. A voice that was not a voice, but more of a feeling resonated within him.
I am Silverbeard of the stripe-legs clan. You protected me from the Rahgs in the forest. You have fed and cared for me. I will not leave you, through the Rahgs may chase us through the trees, the longteeth may surround us on the steppes, and the craggons may seek to snatch us into the sky. You are herd to me, Renly.
With a start, he remembered the animals tracking them through the forest the previous evening. Whatever Rahgs were, he was certain he had done nothing intentional to drive them off, but if Silverbeard thought so, he wouldn’t argue the point.
The traggah bowed his head to eat the grain from his hand. He caressed the sides of Silverbeard’s huge head, gazing into the creature’s intelligent eyes. “We must go back to the temple and free K’Sati. She is our friend.”
The light in his brain flared a moment, and the image of K’Sati’s traggah came to him. “You’re right,” he whispered. “We’ve got to get Neatfoot, too.”
The traggah let out a huge shuddering sigh, and shook himself. As Renly got to his feet, he noticed the change in Silverbeard’s demeanor. The resistance between them was gone. Tension disappeared from Silverbeard’s expression. As if there had never been any distance between them at all. And he knew, without a doubt, that the traggah was bonded to him.
In a way, the bond went in both directions.
* * *
He made a gift of one of his burins with a vee-shaped diamond tip to Okoro. In return, the old man let him keep the jacket and gave him a length of stonewood with a loop of leather on one end for his wrist, and a rounded burl at the business end, like a shillelagh.
“Use this to fend off lizards or other predators,” he warned Renly. “Much better than metal, because the rockpies and craggons aren’t attracted to wood.”
Renly hefted the club in his hand. The grip was comfortable, the balance good. He shoved the handle end beneath his belt. “What’s a rockpie?”
Okoro grimaced. “Big lizards. Not poisonous, but they are persistent. They live in the rocks. They will attack anything that looks like metal.”
Silverbeard stood gentle as a pony as he swung himself astride his back. The second sun peeked over the horizon as he said his goodbyes to Okoro and Rima. Ten minutes later, the cottage was lost behind them in the trees, and they trotted purposefully toward the Temple of the Mother.
CHAPTER 17
Renly waited impatiently in the woods until full dark. He watched the lights of the Temple come up as full darkness set in. Silverbeard had been able to sniff out the room where K’Sati was being held at the far end of the dormitory wing. All the windows in that wing were barred, and none were large enough to squeeze through, but none of that mattered. For perhaps the first time in his life, he felt eager to take action.
He waited until the stable master went off to his hut before venturing into the barn. The only light came from a shielded lamp at the workbench. He searched for a tool or saw for cutting through the bars, but found nothing suitable. A couple of stout woven ropes would have to do. Neatfoot whistled softly to him, and came to the bridle; almost as if she recognized his new kinship with Silverbeard as a shared bond as well.
As he led her out of the barn, one of the other traggahs whistled after them. Renly froze, but the lights in the stable master’s cottage remained dark. He waited in the shadows with Neatfoot for a few long minutes, waiting for his vision to adjust to the starlight. Neatfoot was eager to join up with Silverbeard, and he had to hold her reins tight to keep her subdued.
With both traggahs in tow, he made his way to the end window of the dormitory wing and caught K’Sati’s attention by throwing pebbles into the narrow window.
“Renly, what are you doing here?” she hissed.
“They told me you and Paul went back to the coast and at first, I believed them. Come on, let’s go.”
“The door is locked.”
I knew it! Satisfaction flooded through him. “Why?”
There was a pause. “It is a long story; too long to explain now. K’Takiweah
will not allow me to leave.”
“Hang on.” He maneuvered Silverbeard closer to the window. The metal bars seemed to be set solidly, as far as he could tell. He doubted they would break under pressure, but the brick and mortar walls were another matter. He wove and knotted one end of the rope through the bars and told her to stand back.
He made a large loop at the other end and slipped the rope around Silverbeard’s neck; settling it at the tops of his shoulders.
The traggah seemed to understand what he wanted. Silverbeard strained at the rope, but the bars held. Neatfoot became very excited, and positioned herself at Silverbeard’s side, as if to help, so he tied a second rope around the bars, and looped it over Neatfoot’s head as he’d done for Silverbeard.
They strained against the ropes and large cracking sounds echoed across the grounds. A light went on in one of the dormitories. And then another.
They were running out of time.
“Come on,” he urged the traggahs. “Go, go!”
With a loud crash, the wall collapsed into a crumbling cloud of debris, leaving a gaping hole. The shouting of panicked women reached him, and the lights in the stable master’s cottage went on.
“Where are you?”
She emerged from a cloud of dust and rubble, and grabbed Neatfoot’s reins. “Follow me!”
He swung up onto Silverbeard’s back and they raced toward the blackest part of the forest.
CHAPTER 18
Only the thinnest sliver of moon hung in the night sky above them as they raced through the darkened woods. K’Sati impatiently wiped her tears of against the fabric of her shirt. She was glad for the darkness; awkward in the presence of the Terran who just saved her life.
