Children of the Wolves (21 page)

“And I know how to read the night sky,” he said. “I know how the stars change with the season. I reckon I can always find my way home again.”

“Yes,” Jelena said.

“And I can shoe a horse, not just clean up after him,” he added sullenly, as if she had expressed skepticism. “And I can repair a leather bridle, or a saddle, you just try me.”

“Of course,” Jelena said gently. “I can sew, and I've learned how to cook, and I can raise … wolves.”

Matilda nodded eagerly. “And I … I can keep the time, and I can soothe the upset, and I know how to read the tea leaves. The seer she taught me,” she added defiantly; then: “She didn't realize I was learning, I guess. But I watched her, and I learned how to do what she does. And … and I can make a stout pair of boots.”

This time William nodded enthusiastically. “That's right. Many's the time she's resoled a pair of boots for me when there's not enough left over after the awakened have been shod. And she has taken a piece from this one and a bit from that one and made a new pair, good as new.”

“Well, then,” Jelena said. “It sounds as if we have a lot to offer each other.”

“Ay,” William said. “More than they would ever allow.”

Matilda gave Jelena a frightened glance. “He says that, but I tell him, they're only abiding by the plans the makers made. It's not right to set yourself against the makers, is it?”

“What do you care?” William said. “You ain't got a soul, woman. Least, according to them. The makers won't be judging you anyway, you have no hope of reaching enlightenment.”

“I think,” Jelena said, sensing that the two of them had had this discussion more than once before, “that we can't know what the makers planned, and the best thing to do, is to use all of our knowledge wisely. To take care of ourselves and the ones we love.”

“That's well spoken, Jelena, that is,” William said. Matilda didn't look convinced, but she was here, wasn't she, and didn't that suggest she wasn't too worried about the makers' plans?

Jelena patted their shoulders and went to check on Horse and the wolves. Horse was patiently standing where she'd pegged him, swatting flies with his tail. The wolves were nowhere in sight. She stood still for a moment, letting them catch her scent. They came bursting out of the copse of trees, launching themselves at her, lapping at her face, twining around her ankles. She laughed and submitted to their caresses, then made them behave.

“Down,” she said, smiling. “Sit.” She watched as each wolf settled on its haunches, golden brown eyes watching her closely. “Good wolves,” she crooned. “Good, good girls. Good, good boys.” She stroked each wolf on the throat; they lifted their muzzles to her touch, enjoying it. “Go on, now,” she said. “Go on. Leave me be.”

As a group, the wolves padded softly to the spot where Horse was pegged. He nickered and took a step away from them. Jelena could practically see Topaz smile — Topaz was the ringleader, her leg fully healed with only a thin scar to show for her adventure with the sawtooth trap in the compost pile. Garnet, the alpha male, was her partner in adventure but wasn't quite as inquisitive or — Jelena had to admit it — as obnoxious as the female. The wolves circled Horse a bit, then stretched out languidly on the grass next to him, basking in the late afternoon sun.

Horse rolled his eyes at them and stamped his feet. Ignoring him — or not actually ignoring him,
pretending
to ignore him — they curled into little balls, noses tucked into tails, eyes slitted, ears gently pricked. The light snooze of a timber wolf in unfamiliar territory. Jelena wagered they knew full well their proximity made the horse nervous and they were having a private laugh over it.

Jelena stroked each of the wolves as they lay there, running her fingers through their silky hair, feeling the contented deep breaths they took. Topaz rolled over for a good tummy scratching, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. Then Jelena went back to rejoin the William and Matilda. Twilight would soon be upon them and the others — Tanner and Geoff and Natasha — would join them and they could be on their way.

The sun flared purple and orange in the western sky when Jelena first became aware of the sound of movement. As she stepped out from the shelter of the rock fall, her shoulders tensed. What if the elders had learned of their escape and knew their rendezvous point? But who would come after them? Why? She had taken the bay but the elders wouldn't risk the riders just to get the horse back. And certainly not to get Jelena and William and Matilda back. The elders thought they were doing Jelena and William and Matilda and the others like them a service. No, whatever was out there wasn't anyone who wanted them back.

The sound of feet moving quietly over rock came to her. She could make out dim shapes, roughly human-size but … there seemed to be more than the promised three of them. Her stomach plunged. Oh, by all that was good … what had she started?

A bulky figure detached himself from the group and came forward. “Tanner,” Jelena said, and patted his shoulder, gesturing toward the rock fall to where Matilda and William awaited him. “Geoff and Tasha,” she greeted. Tasha stumbled forward and hugged Jelena. The embrace startled her. She hadn't known the woman well, didn't know where the sudden affection had come from. Geoff and Natasha moved silently to the rock fall, greeted the others without a sound.

“Greco?” she said, her voice pitched higher than she meant. Who had invited the mad one?

“Jelena,” he breathed, and embraced her also, clinging to her as if she were his mother or his sister and he hadn't expected to see her again.

“Move along there, friend,” a booming voice said.

“Derek?” Jelena faltered. “
Derek
? But … you're awakened. You've found your calling,” she explained, as if he might have forgotten. “What are you doing here? Do you mean to — ”

“Jelena, darling,” he said, not troubling to keep his voice low, “I'm sick to death of forging tools and burning my damned hands every time I turn around. It may be that I was a smith in my pastself, but I'll be damned if I can't make a change in this life! I think,” he said grandly, “that I was meant to be an explorer.”

Jelena found that she had nothing to say. It hadn't occurred to her that any of the awakened could be unhappy with their lot. It didn't make sense. The whole world they had made was designed so that the awakened would be perfectly happy, perfectly useful. It was the Way. It was what the makers intended.

“What say you, Jelena?” the smith asked, unease in his voice. She realized with a start that she was the leader — that all of them thought she was the leader, when really, she had just given in to impulse.

“Welcome, Derek,” she said, and showed him the way to the rock fall.

The two remaining figures stood patiently, waiting her approval. “Caterina?” Jelena said, her voice shaking. The child was but eight years old, and the days ahead grueling. She would have to send Cat back. She glanced at the woman holding Cat's hand.

“Sarah,” she whispered.
Oh, by all that's good
. Sarah with the river blindness. How could they possibly have a child and a blind woman along? It wasn't right, they shouldn't be here, there were too many dangers. Jelena didn't even have a plan. She didn't know where she was going to lead these people; they couldn't trust her with the young and the vulnerable like this.

“I can weave,” Sarah said firmly, sensing Jelena's doubt. “I can plant a straight furrow, and harvest the crop. I can say when a man's lying and when he tells truth.”

“That will certainly be handy,” Jelena said.

“I can fetch and carry,” Cat said proudly, in imitation of her mother's recitation. “I can guide my mother when she needs, and plant the same straight furrow and harvest the crop. And … I can learn whatever you will teach me.”

“Ay,” Jelena said. It remained to be seen if they would have anything to teach. “We have a long walk ahead of us tonight.”

“The moon is full.”

“That will be of aid.”

“The wolves may come out,” Sarah warned.

“I hate to tell you this, Sarah,” Jelena said gently, “but the wolves are already abroad.”

Michael didn't expect Jelena to come to the morning meal. He knew — how could he not? — that she resented his announced partnership with Danielle. Not that she wanted him for herself, just that — well, she was unawakened and would never participate in these rites. He still believed that she might have awakened, if she'd been patient a little longer. He had wanted her to be patient just a little longer.

He had felt it, but she hadn't believed him, hadn't trusted him. Him, her protector. Now she would never be awakened. The loss was wrenching to him, as if someone close to him had gone beyond self. Only in some ways worse because she was lost in more than a material sense. Had she gone beyond, he might entertain hopes of seeing her one day again … when all were enlightened. But not now, not this way.

He forced a smile as another villager slapped his arm and offered his congratulations. Danielle, a talented rider, the highly organized and efficient keeper of the stores, was beautiful, a striking redhead with cat green eyes, and though five months along in her carrying, still flirtatious and desirable.

She oversaw the storage and use of all the food and trade goods in the community, which meant she kept in close contact with Teresa, which meant Michael would see a little more of Teresa than he'd like. Even now, Teresa watched him with those humid, hooded eyes, like a falcon after prey. The effect was unwelcome and intrusive. Jelena's calm gaze had also followed him everywhere but that had never bothered him.

He expected that Danielle would find ways to highly organize his life but in a few months, makers willing, she'd have a trueborn to tend to. That would take some of the attention off of him. He glanced over at his partner and a smile curved his lips. He'd done well by the community, pleased the elders, and helped out a friend. Not a bad morning's work.

He gave Danielle a kiss on the cheek and excused himself. At first, he thought he might spend some time in quiet reflection at the meeting hall, but then decided that a ride would clear his head and help center him. He turned towards the riders' paddock, then stopped. Perhaps the big bay would let him ride, as he had allowed Jelena on his back. Better to use the bay for pleasure riding than one of the trained cavalry mounts; he didn't want to risk injuring a horse they could hardly afford to lose.

Michael retraced his steps and walked across the courtyard to the western paddock where the big bay was penned. He saw the Umluan pony in the arena just beyond, pawing the ground and snorting. The bay should be in the next enclosure over. But he was not.

Michael's heart started pounding. He wasn't sure why. After all, the bay could have jumped the fence, or some part of the fence could have broken down and the horse gotten loose. Someone could have decided to take the horse for a ride. He went through the gate but saw no sign of the horse, or of the William, the stable hand.

He grew more worried now, though he didn't know why. He found himself heading towards Isolde's cabin, his stride lengthening as he went. Why did he think he would find the horse there? As he approached, the cabin seemed empty and abandoned, which was ridiculous, he knew. He had seen Jelena here just a few hours ago. He flung the door open, not even stopping to knock.

“Jelena!” he called. “Jelena!” He looked around the main room where the wolves had made their den. He had promised not to give her away, and he hadn't. The wolves were gone, their bedding folded neatly on the floor. He clambered up the ladder. The loft was empty. No clothing hung on the wall pegs. She had taken her clothes. Not a trace of Jelena, not a sign where she might have gone.

“Jelena!” he shouted in the empty cabin. He flung himself down the ladder. In the kitchen, the chest with her embroidery threads sat abandoned on the table. He plunged his hand into the shimmering pool of color and let the threads run through his fingers. Illogically, that was when he knew what she'd done. She'd left those threads behind. She'd left him behind. He didn't stop to think or consider but ran back to the main hall, reached the kitchen door, slammed it open, and burst through. Bertha stood as always, unperturbed, at the kitchen stove.

“Jelena,” he said, his breath coming in short gasps. “She's gone.”

“Ay,” Bertha said without looking up from her pot.

“You knew?” he accused, striding across the floor, reaching for her shoulder.

“You touch me, young man, and you will regret it,” Bertha said in a mild tone. Michael dropped his hands. He wanted to shake the woman, but she would probably strike him with that cast iron pot if he did.

“Why didn't you tell me?” he demanded, his voice hoarse with agitation and the effort of restraining himself.

“What would have been the good?” she said, reaching across him to find a whisk, stirring the sauce in the pot with a deft flick of her wrist.

“What do you mean?” he said. “I could have stopped her.”

“Why then?”

“
Why
? It's dangerous out there.”

“Ay. That she knows.”

“Bertha, she shouldn't be out there alone. She won't survive. If you know where she's headed, then by all that's good, let me know.”

“She's not alone.”

The silence that followed was stony and cold. After a moment, Bertha began to chuckle. “Oh, it's not what you're thinking, young man, although you deserve it. No, I only meant to say she took some of the other unawakened with her.”

“She took others — and you didn't think you should notify anyone? You didn't think to tell the elders?”

“I've been here longer than the elders,” Bertha said, as if that explained anything.