Fog (33 page)

Katvar walks up to me and bends down, busies himself with my ties. And suddenly, my wrists come free. I don’t dare move. I gaze up at him. White teeth flash in the dim light. He points to Javier and I twist my neck to look. Javier is out cold. I open my mouth and shut it, then sign what’s supposed to read, ‘What happened?’

Katvar grins wider, points to Uma who sits up in her bed, somewhat shocked. She crawls on all fours to Javier, checks his breathing and looks relieved.

‘He’s sleeping,’ she whispers in my ear. ‘Barktak gave me something and I slipped it in his food. She kept joking about not being sure about the correct dose.’

Katvar taps his knuckles against my shoulder.
 

I look up at him. ‘You are leaving?’ I ask, confused at what he’s signalling to me.

‘You go with him,’ Uma says. ‘And Birket.’

The chief is already standing by the door, whispering in Ogak’s ear. I didn’t even hear Birket move.

Uma tells me that Ogak will keep an eye on Javier, then she signs to Katvar, too fast for me to understand. I catch only one word: hands flat on chest, move forward as fists —
trust
.

The chief stops at the entrance to the log house. ‘You are the first outsider to witness a gathering.’ He points at the dog skull nailed to the door. ‘You must know that this is a guard. It wards off lies and pretence. If you dare bring them in, people can smell their stink. We value honesty above all else, especially here.’

Suddenly, I don’t want to go in, because, honestly (did I really just use the word “honestly?”), I don’t want their help anymore. I’ll say my thanks and leave.

Birket pushes the door open and heat lays itself over my face like a blanket. I gulp a mouthful of air and step inside. It’s the first time I’ve entered the log house — the ritual centre of the small village of yurts.

Men and women are seated in a circle on the floor. A circular hole in the ceiling swallows tendrils of smoke. A large fire burns at the centre of the room, spitting sparks up at the night sky as if to add stars to the milky way. Birket picks up a staff that seems to be reserved for him alone, then taps it against his fur boots.

A man to his right stands, walks up to the fire pit and throws a handful of dried herbs into it. Chanting crawls through the open space between flame and people. Bitter-sweet scents make me woozy. I’m growing hot.

Someone taps my wrist. I turn and spot Katvar; he nods to a space just ahead of us. We sit and I stretch my injured leg.

There’s movement, wavelike. A large jug is passed from hand to hand, mouth to mouth. Katvar takes a sip, then holds the vessel out to me. I sniff. Sharp and smoky. I tip the liquid until it touches my lips, then pass on the jug without drinking.
 

An elbow makes sharp contact with my side. A hiss and a shake of his head — Katvar tells me he caught my cheating.
 

‘You don’t know our customs.’ Birket raises his voice. ‘But here in our House of Thought, we are One. If one lies, we are all liars. If one cheats, we are all cheats. We honour each other with sincerity and respect.’

He looks at me and there’s only warmth and friendliness in his expression. I feel ashamed at once.

Lowering my gaze, I reply, ‘I will not drink this.’

‘There is no harm in drinking it. Everyone is sharing this sacred infusion.’

‘Now it’s you who is lying. I smell ledum in the brew and in the smoke. It’s also called wild rosemary.’

‘We use sage, small amounts of wild rosemary and henbane in our rituals,’ he explains, not losing his calmness.

‘I will leave now.’ I stand.
 

Katvar frowns, but doesn’t protest. He just sits there, wondering what’s wrong with me.

‘What do you fear?’ Birket’s question hits straight at my chest.

‘Where I come from, kids are sometimes drugged with these herbs so they don’t scream so loud when they are raped. Unless the rapists fancied screaming kids. Some did, others didn’t.’ I cough to clear the constriction from my throat. ‘I will not drink this.’

Shudders travel through the room.

‘Thank you for your honesty. You don’t drink tonight. Sit, please.’ Birket nods at the woman who has held the cup since I handed it to her. She drinks and passes it to the man next to her.
 

Katvar tugs at my wrist and I sit back down. Birket nods and lowers his head. Silence falls.

‘You were overheard,’ the chief begins.
 

I stare at my boots. Sweat itches on my forehead and skids down my temples into my fur collar.

‘You said to Javier that the BSA plans attacks on all arms manufacturers in Europe and Asia.’

‘They don’t attack the industry, they attack the people who control it so they can take over the production,’ I reply.

‘We know. We’ve been observing BSA attacks for awhile now. You also said the BSA has full control of satellite. What is
satellite
?’

‘Excuse me?’ I squeak. ‘You what?’

Birket taps the ground with his staff and people begin shedding their coats and boots. I’m sweltering, so I take off my coat, too. More herbs are thrown onto the embers, more smoke crawls through the room. I cough.

‘We are the Lume,’ says Birket, holding his head high. Everyone nods solemnly. ‘It means “people”. And then, much more. Earth, cosmos, creation. We are part of the Earth, the Earth feeds us, the Earth creates us. When we die, we feed the Earth. We are the Lume and we do not tell outsiders our true name. The others know us as the Dog People. Part of you is now a part of us, because you take what we offer, and you will take much more. We’ll feed you in the months to come. Honour our gifts and give back to the Earth.’

Birket stands tall and proud in the centre of the room. The fire illuminates his sharp features. I have no idea where this is going, but it can’t be anywhere good.

‘We hunt and we trade. We have done so for many generations. We are not the only ones.’ He looks at me and adds, ‘There are many clans like ours, spread from the land of the Great Bear to the Southern Seas. We are family.’

Katvar’s shoulders stiffen. I gaze at him and find pain in his eyes.
 

‘There is a reason for us to hunt with bow and arrow, Mickaela Capra. We have observed the decline in supply of ammunition and weapons, we have seen the takeover of arms manufacturers by the BSA. We have talked to other clans and they report the same. The BSA burned down our winter quarters. Four of our wives and five of our children were murdered. Twelve men died in battle. We wouldn’t have changed our way of hunting so completely if not for this. We are stockpiling our ammunition, so we can use it against our enemies when the time comes. Mickaela, what you see today is not what you saw two winters ago. I might add that this seems to be mutual.’

I nod. I’m not the naive girl they met last time I was here.

‘I must ask you two questions now and you will answer sincerely. What is
satellite
and what were your plans until Javier accused you of treason?’

I’m not sure if I’m supposed to stand up or remain seated. I choose the latter. ‘Satellites are large instruments that orbit our planet.’ My fingers point up at the ceiling. ‘They were shot up there long before the Great Pandemic and the World Wars and they can take images of Earth and other planets. They don’t fall back down, because they are…um…spinning fast like a rock at the end of a cord. Their presence has been kept quiet by the Sequencers for decades. They can see how the weather changes, they see forest fires, people, soil moisture, sea ice thickness, and much more. They can transmit signals — that’s how Sequencers communicate with each other. They have SatPads to transfer data via satellites.’

People mutter and blink up at the sky that shows through the smoke hole.

‘You will have seen bright spots travelling across the sky,’ I add. ‘They look like…stars on a mission.’

There’s nodding and more muttering. I lower my head, hoping to convey respect and humbleness. Inside my skull I hear Erik laughing, his mad cackling, his cold voice.
Humans are sheep, you have to learn to lead them, to herd them. When they are of no use anymore, butcher them and recruit new ones. Breed only the best of them.

The chief taps his staff again. Silence falls reluctantly.

I continue. ‘My plan was to inform the Sequencers that Erik Vandemeer — former satellite expert of the Sequencers — is now commander of the BSA. He has organised and unified our enemies. He has sharpened a deadly weapon and he can see all of our movements.’

A collective hiss rushes through the room. If I didn’t know better, I would say the smoke shuddered.
 

‘I had hoped the Sequencers would help me destroy the BSA headquarters and their main satellite control system.’

‘You gave Javier the locations?’ Birket asks.

‘No, I did not. He showed me that I can’t trust them anymore.’

Birket nods. His satisfied expression gives me the creeps.

‘Why would this please you?’ I ask.

He gazes at me for a long moment. The silence and the smoke are so thick one could cut them with a knife.
 

‘We believe the Sequencers are corrupt,’ he says.

I lean back, utterly confused, and not realising there’s nothing to lean on to. I almost lose my balance, but Katvar’s arm curls around my shoulders, blocking the fall. I shrug him off.

‘You let them do their tuberculosis monitoring campaign so they don’t suspect what you suspect or…’

‘Yes and no. We don’t believe all Sequencers are corrupt. Most are fine people. But something seems to be off in their command structure. There have been reports from other clans.’

‘What reports?’

Birket inhales. A worry line forms between his eyebrows. ‘Locations of secret gatherings that only the Sequencers and the clans knew about have been attacked by the BSA. Many died.’

Goose bumps race up my neck. ‘I am very sorry. I had the same suspicion when Javier told me how little they knew about the battle in Taiwan. But then… The problem is that Erik can intercept and manipulate communications between the Sequencers. He can feed them fake data without them realising it comes from an external source.’

‘But you said the BSA commander is a former Sequencer. This supports our theories of corruption. You also spoke about an espionage unit. Tell us more, please.’

I sigh. ‘I wish I could say more, but all I know is that this unit exists, that most Sequencers don’t seem to know about it, and that Erik Vandemeer was recruited by this unit to infiltrate the BSA.’

‘Is it possible he still works for them?’

‘Hell, fuck no!’ A deep, guttural laugh rolls up my throat. ‘He has too much fun ordering his men to lynch, stone, and burn people who are not to his liking.’ Maybe I sound too cheery, maybe sarcasm is lost on these people tonight. A gasping makes the rounds. Faces pale. Some of them look furious.

Abruptly, Sal stands and begins to speak. ‘I do not understand what
satellite
means. We’ve all seen the traveling stars and we’ve had our own theories. Now a stranger tells us the BSA uses them to watch us. What can we believe?’

Birket faces Sal and says calmly, ‘My friend, it matters little what you believe. Mickaela has seen it and she is set to take it away from the BSA. Am I correct so far?’
 

A sharp glance in my direction. My breath stalls. ‘Yes,’ I croak.

‘Besides,’ Birket says to Sal, ‘what she tells us fits with what we already know. I believe we can trust the information she’s giving us. We cannot, however, trust that the information she withholds is altogether insignificant.’

Sal frowns. He doesn’t seem to like his view of things challenged.

‘Sal,’ I say. ‘I found your new winter quarters. How do you think I did this?’ I point up the smoke hole. Everyone gazes at the night sky, then back at me. That seems to have made an impression. People look like they’ve been carved in stone.

‘May I ask what your plan is?’ Birket says.

‘I’ll leave in the morning.’ My voice is clipped.

The chief nods. ‘Good. You should share your plans with as few people as possible. But also with as many people as necessary. How far do you have to go?’

‘Far.’

‘How great is the danger for my people?’

‘The BSA will come to find me. You must leave in the morning. Move in small groups. Move when the sky is overcast, hide in the woods when the sky is clear. That’s your safest bet.’

Birket nods, looks at everyone, taps his staff, and says, ‘We have to agree on one thing tonight: Do we help Mickaela or do we let her fail?’

Quiet words are exchanged, increasing and decreasing in intensity, but no shouts, no anger. ‘Will there be war?’ someone asks, and another answers, ‘There’s war already, didn’t you know?’

When conversations cease, hand signals are exchanged. All eyes are on Birket. He lowers his heads and says, ‘We will help you.’

Everyone in the room hums agreement. Birket lifts his gaze. ‘It is close to midnight now. We have until dawn to get Mickaela away from here and arrange an escape for ourselves. I want Kioshi, Katvar, Sari and Mickaela to stay here. Everyone else: prepare to leave in the morning.’