by J. D. Sonne
It was idiotic, but the men were staked close to the forest. She was sure that her mother or the other Titleds did not bother to check where the stupid securities had placed the captives. And the guards, while not absent, were about ten trough-lengths away, their heads lowered in soft conversation. Another ridiculous breach of vigilance. Lazy morons!
Rane edged into the forest a little distance from the prisoners and crept through the undergrowth, using her tracker skills to silence her tread. When she was parallel to their recumbent forms--from boredom or sleep she was unsure—she lay on her stomach and hissed softly, “Landman, Bruse, brother, Chuan. It is I, Rane.” She waited for a moment for the expected shifting in their positions at being addressed. Nothing happened until she said, “Your friend.”
The moons emerged from diaphanous folds of cloud mist, their light shadowing the forms into half-men. Rane strained to identify them, hoping that Bruse wasn't close enough to harm her. To her relief, the face of Chuan, her brother, was the first to form itself against the struggling light. He rolled toward her, silencing the shackles by cradling them against his torso. The others moved just slightly, not wishing to attract the attention of the negligent guards.
“Chuan,” she whispered, crawling closer, “I am forming a plan for our escape—”
“We are not interested,” he said, turning away from her. “Go away.”
Cold seeped into her muscles, freezing her voice into a low croak, “Wha—What?”
Then Bruse leaned over Chuan and said, “Go away, Lead! You are an enemy now, and it seems you always were! Die in the waters!”
The curse took her aback and tears formed in her eyes. “Landman!” She hissed. “Landman!”
“He wants nothing to do with you, either. Go away!” Chuan said, not lowering his voice as if he wanted the guards to hear.
And, indeed, the Lead guards rose from their hunched positions, their ears pricked. Rane skittered backward into the underbrush and lay flat for many moments. Luckily, her limbs took over for her mind and pounded back through the understory, wended their way past the latrine pit, returning her to the fire circle. From the time of the encounter to the point when she resumed her place beside Saruah, time passed without her awareness. It was not until the Titleds extinguished the massive fire and motioned everyone to bed that she came to herself again. Shaking her head to free her brain from the swirling miasma of confusion caused by her encounter with the prisoners, she rose with the aid of her friend, who asked, “Where were you for so long?”
Rane couldn't answer, barely able to form her shoulders into a shrug to neutralize Saruah's concern. It seemed to satisfy the Lead, however, as she gossiped with Rane about all of the doings at the fire circle: Tollichet had to restrain Shukad from stripping and dancing around the fire naked; Clulath had smuggled treewine in her pack and she and four other Leads disgraced themselves with drunkenness. . .
As Saruah continued in her litany of the usual aberrant behavior of Leads and their Titleds’ usual and ineffectual attempts at discipline, Rane could barely attend to her words. She did her best by giving noncommittal grunts and staid replies, but Saruah knew her too well. Her friend stopped and asked, “What happened? What's wrong?” Putting her hand on Rane's arm, she said, “You're different—“
Rane blurted, “Of course I'm different! Wouldn't you be if held by stinking viruls and their filthy females for as many pours as I have?” It was easy for Rane to summon up the vitriol. She was angry at Chuan and the others for rejecting her overture. “Stupid viruls! STUPID VIRULS!”
In addition to throwing Saruah off, her outburst had the added effect of allowing a productive vent of her frustration with Landman and the others, calming her almost immediately.
“I'm sorry, Saruah,” Rane said, using the calm to apologize to her friend. “I'm feeling so conflicted and--” That was too much information. After all, what could she be conflicted about? She was rescued, wasn't she? No one must know about her ambivalence regarding the men—the viruls who had held her. But, luckily, right now, there was no ambivalence. At least for the moment, Rane had returned to her former distaste of viruls. Actually, distaste was too weak a word, for unlike before, where she had been rather indifferent toward them, she really loathed them, especially the cluster of shackled viruls not twenty trough-lengths from her.
“Rane! No words! I'm sorry! I'm sorry,” Saruah said, putting up her hands to ward off Rane's anger. “Of course! You've been through a lot! You just seemed agitated after leaving the circle to relieve yourself. I just wanted to make sure nothing happened out there!”
“What. Did you think a bear would get me? No, he would just think I'm his mate. A lion or a wolf?” Rane said, her easy manner returning at Saruah's laughter. “No, because the way I feel right now, I could tear them apart with my bare hands!”
“No doubt!” Saruah said, her eyes wide and mocking. “I wouldn't want to tangle with you!” She put an arm around Rane's shoulders and jostling her, added, “You will soon be home in your own lodge and bed. After that, no more worries! And,” She said meaningfully, “When we get home, I will only give you a couple of days of rest. After that, I will be dragging you back out to the waterwork! That will be the best medicine for what ails you! Of that I am sure!”
Rane wished Saruah had not mentioned the waterwork. She excused herself quickly, saying she needed to see to Treefall and his fodder. The waterwork, her waterwork, now abandoned in the wake of the rescue, its troughs, carvings, scaffolding—the crafty wooden infrastructure probably lying about as unrecognizable detritus--broken up by the Leads under the Titleds direction. She hadn't had a chance to see the destruction for herself, but that didn't matter. There was no way the rescue party would have left such a monument to a contraband community. Stifling the sobs as she stumbled along, she did not release the gate of tears until the familiar horseflesh pressed her cheek. Treefall shifted only a little, then with soft nickers settled to the sound of his owner's weeping.
Chapter Twenty
In her burrow of fluffy linens and cozy skins, Rane was almost able to erase from her mind the misty recollection of her captivity. In fact, she slept a lot, her mother worrying about the hours and hours her daughter lay in bed. She did not know that Rane was seeking an escape from the black quagmire of hopelessness that invaded her consciousness whenever her thoughts strayed to the plight of Landman and the others.
But, the apothecary of sleep! Dulling reality, making it possible to exist with pain, sleep was her friend. A lonely friend, though, since such a relationship squandered existence. She didn't care.
This sleep was the only release from her fury at being rejected by Chuan and the others when she approached them with at least the prospect of a plan. At first, her feelings had been hurt, a novelty that she had never experienced, especially at the hands of viruls, of all people. Then that sorrow had turned to real rage that stayed with her on the march all the way home. She was so angry, in fact, that she almost wished a wilding could take place immediately, against all her manipulations. Then sorrow returned, then the rage replaced it again, sorrow again, rage again—finally, the two forces came against each other in her mind seeming to explode her very psyche. A dulling and enervating fatigue was the only thing left of the destructive psychological conflict that had raged within her.
A few days after her rescue, Shukad wandered into her room, an unusual enough occurrence that Rane released her body from its recent customary fetal clutch, and rolled slowly toward her sister. Sitting on the bed, Shukad stared at Rane, her face anything but kind, and said, “So, sister! Isn't it time you got your lazy arse out of bed and started helping with the work around here? Mother won't make you, but I can and will.”
Rane rolled away from her sister and said, “You can try. You can certainly try. I don’t care what you do. Now, go away you great, loutish, evil witch.”
Her rolling away seeming to drop her defenses was a ploy, of course, to throw her sister off. Rane knew that Shuka
d did not just come into her room to talk. In fact, Rane couldn't remember the last time Shukad had even been in her room. No, her sister was not here just to talk; she was here to take action against what she undoubtedly thought was a ruse on Rane's part to get out of her duties on the estate.
It happened rather quickly. Because her strength was depleted after the debilitating bedrest, Rane let her mental instinct do the work, and when her sister charged, All Rane had to do was roll off the bed and press herself to the floor so that she was almost under the bedstead. The wall next to her bed did the rest, knocking Shukad out when she smacked headfirst into its polished wood. When Rane pulled herself back on the bed, she was surprised at how weak she was. Looking down at her unconscious sister, she realized that she was very lucky the trick worked. In her present state, there was no way she could best her sister in a physical contest, and she likely would have ended up with some bad bruises if not actual broken bones from the contest. Of course, this had been how she had kept alive all these years with an aggressive older sister, letting her brain and natural fighting instinct take over during interactions with Shukad.
She lay down for quite a few moments, then sat up, got off the bed and wobbled over to the door. Opening it, she grabbed the lintel, leaned out of her room and yelled, “Squirrel! SQUIRREL!”
Hanging there, her hands on the lintel, she waited, reelingly dizzy. She didn't feel up to fetching someone to drag Shukad out of the room, and she really didn't feel like doing it herself. Just as she swung herself away from the lintel to begin her slog to the kitchen, she heard breathless pattering and, “Lead Rane! Is that you calling?” Then a peevish whine laced with concern, “What are you doing out of bed?”
Squirrel had appeared from around the corner of the upstairs hall and scolded, “You should not be up like that, but oh, it is good to see you! Especially, it is good to see you standing!” He actually hugged her.
She did not throw him off as she would have done before her kidnapping, even allowing him to finish and even cluck about her for a moment. After he led her back to her bed and tucked her in, Rane said, “Thank you, squirrel! That is nice. And, if you will look on the floor against the wall, you will see Lead Shukad lying there. Will you take her to her own bed? And mind her head, I think she hit it against the wall.”
Squirrel crouched over Shukad and Rane heard him chuckle softly. Although he had never dared voice it to her, she knew that Squirrel did not care for her sister. Not that he ever had to say anything; there were not many, outside of her security mates, who liked Shukad. She paused, musing over the fact that she cared what the virul thought—she never had before.
Squirrel, like most viruls, was rather slight in build, but also, like most viruls, he was sinewy and strong. He could have easily hoisted Shukad up over his shoulder; instead, he opted to grab her by both legs and drag her unceremoniously out of the room. Before, Rane would have remonstrated with him over the disrespectful treating of a Lead, even if it were her loathsome sister. Now, not only did she say nothing, but she actually laughed, causing Squirrel to look up in alarm. He looked at her in real fear, expecting a beating or worse. She stopped and her face assumed a seriousness that was reminiscent of her old self, but the thin smile was a heavy indication that things had changed with her. A look of confusion on his face, Squirrel nodded solemnly and resumed his removal of the unconscious Lead.
Although Rane still felt very weak, she also realized that she was feeling a little better. The exchange with her sister cheered her immensely and went a long way in improving her outlook on her situation. Although a reclining position felt appropriate in her fatigued state, she did not feel the need to fold herself into the fetal position as before, but assumed a position of thought, her hands behind her head, elbows jutted to the sides. Yes, she was feeling much better, and her mind actually was able to probe the discomfort of her situation and even that of her erstwhile friends (she still harbored an anger, but it felt more reasonable to deal with), who were undoubtedly incarcerated somewhere nearby.
The shock of her rescue, she decided, was just starting to wear off, and her mind entered its customary problem-solving mode. Her retreat to her bed must have been the result of her body shutting down, probably a protection against the immense quandary created by her warring emotions. The healing sleep seemed to have gone a long way to smooth her ruckled nerves.
An intense hunger suddenly assaulted her stomach and she wanted nothing more than to stuff herself on something sweet, sour, bitter, salty—it didn't matter—from the kitchen. She also thought it might be interesting to be up and about by the time Shukad regained her senses. That way she could drive her sister a little mad by making her think that nothing had happened between them. “What?” she would say. “You must be imagining things! You never have come to my room in my life!”
That thought and the mewling laughter (oh, she was still weak) it brought, acted as her propeller to the kitchen. As she entered, the clanging rush of the evening meal preparation was in full motion. Nodding to the nearest virul, she proceeded to open cupboards until she found the one that contained the cloth-wrapped rustic bread that she remembered craving all through her captivity, no female in the camp having been able to produce it exactly, and began to tear at it, stuffing the deliciously coarse morsels in her mouth. She found some freshly churned butter in the cold cabinet and not bothering with a spreader, dipped the bread directly into the butter, savoring each melting bite on her tongue.
When she began to breathe again, the trauma of hunger having passed, she felt eyes on her. Not only that, but a stunned silence had filled the kitchen, and when she looked around, every virul had stopped his task and was staring, a mixture of horror and surprise frozen on his features.
It only took a moment for her to realize that this was a scene none of them had ever experienced before. It was rare that a Lead would enter the kitchen, let alone serve herself, usually relying on a virul to fetch her victuals.
Smiling through a great gob of bread hanging out of her mouth, Rane made a backward exit from the kitchen, the verbal “Thanks” accompanied by an explosion of flying crumbs.
Dimly thinking that the viruls must think her mad and that the strange behavior would immediately be reported to Titled Tollichet, Rane finished off the bread and made a quick exit. The fuel making her feel much stronger, she decided she would venture out to the grounds. She still felt too weak to mount Treefall, but maybe she could visit him in his stall and feed him a tuber from the kitchen. Luckily, the fresh vegetables were located in baskets outside the back door of the kitchen so she wouldn’t have to interact with the kitchen viruls again.
She chose a large, yellow chia that was ripening in one of the baskets and ventured toward the stables. She had a little trouble finding the dirt road that led out to the horse enclosure. She couldn’t be that daft, could she? Then she figured out the reason for her confusion--her mother had had the road cobbled. In fact, on her way to the stable, she noticed many improvements had been made to the estate that she hadn’t observed the day she had arrived home. She turned around to look at the lodge, now dwindling a bit in the distance—its lodge poles and slats had been restained. When she arrived at the stable, she saw that it had been treated also, and many repairs had been made to the structure that she had remembered as being a little rickety.
She found Treefall happily gulping meal and oats from a new manger in his stall. Placing her open hand with the tuber under his nose, she enjoyed the tickling sensation from his lips as they closed over the treat. Watching him eat for a few moments, she brushed her hands on her jerkin and looked around. Not only were the mangers new, but the entire interior of the stable had new fixtures. Smooth wood siding had been laid over the formerly rough-hewn logs; new, sturdy boxes held each horse in a luxurious space; and the floor was no longer packed dirt, but rather concrete covered with fresh straw. She sniffed and smelled more wood chip than she did manure. That is how new the renovations were.
The virul groom, Otter, gave her a brush and greeted her, his welcome seeming genuine. “It has been a long time, Lead Rane! Treefall had been pining for you, that is sure! I was glad when Titled Tollichet took him on the rescue mission.”
After thanking the groom, Rane tossed the brush in her hand a few times as she looked over the new enclosure. In fact, she almost gasped when she looked up and saw that even the beams supporting the roof had been replaced, and with those that were covered with elegant carvings! She calmed herself into nonchalance and said, “The stable certainly looks wonderful. Who oversaw all of the improvements?”
“Why, your sister!” Otter said. “She was out here a lot watching the workers. I can tell you that she was a stickler for things getting done right!” He picked up a sack of feed and filled the rest of the mangers as he talked. “She had them carpenters up there, carving clear into the nights.” He vaguely gestured over their heads. “It made me glad that I never went into carpentry! But, even an old hand like me can see their beauty.”
“When did all this start?” She asked, having opened the gate to Treefall’s box where she began to run her brush over his coat. She had a pretty good idea that she knew the answer.
The groom paused in his answer, his eyes seeking their corners as he considered. “Now that I think of it, it was right after you disappeared!”
“No doubt,” Rane said under her breath.
“What’s that, Lead Rane?”
“Nothing, Otter! Say, would you do me a favor and take Treefall for a gallop this afternoon? I would do it myself, but—”
“Say no more, Lead Rane!” Otter said, pleasure filling his face. “I, we, well—we all know what you must have went through! And I want you to know that I took good care of Treefall while you was gone! I took him out every day to keep him limber! And, it’s nice to have you back. I think I can speak for all of us when I say that!”
