Reading the Wind (Silver Ship) (6 page)

He swallowed and looked out toward the mountains, painted brilliant gold on one side by the setting sun, dark and foreboding on the other side. “There is no excuse.”

I watched the mountains with him, the high clouds above them now brilliant orange edged with bright gold. One of the small muscles in his neck jumped silently, repeatedly.

“What are we going to do?” he asked.

I chewed on my lip. I had become used to following his direction in the band; he knew the people and the routines, the dangers and the rituals. But only I knew both Kayleen and him well, if I really knew Kayleen anymore. I spoke softly, trying to reach past his anger. “I guess we’re going to go back and eat her feast. The only way to get home is to try and reach her, to make her want to take us back.” I squeezed his hand and leaned into him, looking sideways to where Kayleen sat, still huddled over her preparations. “Her mood has shifted a hundred times today. Remember when we were little, and she and I and Joseph always made sure we found you on Trading Day?” I turned my face up to his. “Maybe it’s our turn to find her.”

We stood face to face, hands still clasped, and he looked into my eyes. I looked back at him, feeling a wave of tenderness. We’d set out this morning hoping to find time to make love in the cave.

He spoke, his voice as soft as mine had been. “Are you saying you forgive her?”

I shook my head. “I’m saying I love her. I’m saying she’s our family.”

Water gleamed in the edges of his eyes. I’d had my cry, but he hadn’t, and I knew he wouldn’t do it yet. He cleared his throat. “My family is back on Jini.” He held a hand out and brushed a stray lock of hair from my face. “And you. You’re my family.” He glanced toward Kayleen. “She’s not. She’s someone I see twice a year, and I don’t understand her. I don’t trust her. I don’t see how you can.”

“I spent almost every day of my life with her before I went with the band. I’ve always been the oldest, always been the one who had to keep us together, at least until the last few years. That matters to me.”

He blew out a long, slow breath, looking away. “I’ll eat her feast for you. But I can’t do it for her. That will have to be enough.”

I nodded.

“And tomorrow,” he continued, “tomorrow, I’m going to make getting the skimmer ready to fly my highest priority.”

I leaned into him, holding him, trying with all my being to tell him how much I loved him, needed him.

As we turned back to eat a feast we didn’t want, the sun dropped below the low hills. I left my hand in his as we came into camp, unwilling to drop my connection to him just to make Kayleen feel good. She handed us our plates, her eyes shining with unexplained tears. We sat one on each side of her, awkward, each of the three of us alone. As the last light faded from the sky, the light from Kayleen’s cooking fire danced brightly in the cold night.

W
indy and I shared the last watch. She noticed the silence before I did. She lifted her long neck, sniffing the air, her nostrils extended, her stubby tail straight up. I stood, arms tucked close to ward off the night chill, the hair on my arms rising. Behind me, Kayleen and Liam slumbered in the darkened tent near the end of the ramp. In front of me, dark trees and rocks stood silent sentinel, washed lightly by starlight.

When Liam and I hunted djuri for the band, the world around us silenced. That same silence surrounded us now. Earlier, night birds and small animals had skittered from bush to rock to tiny tree, each sound slightly different from home. Now, no birds called and no little jumping animals moved. The light of two moons paled as it fell through clouds. The wind had even died. I stepped close to Windy’s side, whispering, “What do you sense?”

Her skin quivered, but she didn’t move or shift her attention to me. She smelled or saw something that I didn’t. We stood, silent, straining to hear anything. I reached for her lead and untied it, holding it loosely in both hands.

Gravel crunched.

Something—not us—breathed out.

Windy exploded. She reared back, jerking me with her as I tightened my fists on her lead. Her eyes widened in fear as she yanked the lead line tight.

The perimeter bells peeled danger.

I screamed. “Liam!” and raced the few steps between me and
Windy, tugging on the line, trying to get close enough to grab her halter.

A single howl, close. I couldn’t see anything. Low growls came from three directions.

Windy pulled her line taut, quivering, her back feet pointing at the danger. The whites of her eyes were clearly visible and her ears lay flat against her head.

Liam pulled on my arm. I jerked free. “No! Help me.”

I’d lost a hebra to paw-cats once. I wasn’t going to lose this one.

A low form rushed in from the dark, close. Half my height, brown and fast. Long—too big for a demon dog. It opened its jaws. Tongue and white teeth, the teeth gleaming in the faint starlight.

Liam whooped and it veered away. More ran past us, ten or twelve of them, a few body-lengths away, long and dark, sleek. Their white eyes and teeth glowed, their bodies visible as dark movement more than shape. They crouched low, circling. If they stood up they would be waist-high.

Kayleen grabbed Windy’s line. She tugged, cursing. The terrified hebra knocked Kayleen to her knees and vaulted over her, bleating and disappearing up the ramp into the wide cargo door. Howls chased me and Liam as we leapt onto the ramp, stopping to grab Kayleen’s shoulders and heave her up with us. The ramp jerked upward, closing fast as we tumbled into boxes and into each other in the suddenly small hold.

Something jumped at the ramp, missed, and fell back.

Windy bugled off to my right, back in the cabin. The hull rang as she kicked at it. Kayleen scrambled after her.

Muffled barks sounded outside, some close.

I pushed myself up in the darkness, testing.

One knee felt scraped. Not bad.

My voice shook. “You two okay?”

Liam, tense. “Fine. That was damned close.”

The soft sounds of Kayleen comforting Windy competed with muted howls and ripping noises as the pack outside assaulted our gear.

Light slammed into the corridor. I thanked Kayleen for it under my breath, able to see the anger filling Liam’s dark eyes. “Get Kayleen,” he snapped. “You take Windy.”

“Why Kayleen?” I asked. She and Windy were safe.

“Because she can find me a weapon.” One look at Liam’s face and I scrambled down the corridor, slowing as I went through the opening.

Windy had backed against the screen in the front of the cabin. Kayleen stood at her head, her back to me, talking softly to the shaking hebra. “It’ll be okay. You’re okay.”

I took the lead from her. “Liam needs you.”

Kayleen looked at me, her eyes wide. “Is he all right?”

“We’re both okay. Just go see what he needs. I’ll stay here.”

“Don’t leave her,” she pleaded.

“Of course not.” I reached a hand up to stroke Windy’s long trembling neck. “Shhhhh… you’re okay.” I took over Kayleen’s litany, focusing on the hebra, barely noticing as Kayleen left. “We didn’t let them eat you. You were good, you gave me good warning.” I couldn’t help remembering Jinks again. Her death had bought me safety, probably bought my life. My hand shook on Windy’s quivering neck, and I forced myself to take long deep breaths, struggling to slow my heartbeat. Hebras felt what we felt.

Part of my attention stayed focused on Windy, and I listened for Liam and Kayleen. I made out Liam’s voice.“… I’ll throw it. Tell me when.”

What was he doing? The soft whine of the ramp opening back out was nearly obscured as the barks and howls intensified, surely now spilling through an opening. The ramp clicked closed and a muffled whump sounded outside, following by an animal scream and frightened yelps. Windy shivered, leaning into me, her skin rippling as the boundary bells pealed exit, barely audible through the ship’s hull.

Kayleen and Liam came through the doorway, Liam’s face quietly satisfied. “I think we drove them off.”

“What did you use?” I asked, relinquishing my place next to Windy to Kayleen.

Kayleen answered. “Remember that crazy-ball? The one Alicia stole? I wanted to see what one would do.”

I closed my eyes. The bones in my legs stopped holding me up as the adrenaline rush left me all at once. I sat. “Jenna said they explode and throw out hard objects.”

Liam grinned. “Sounds like it worked.”

“How do you know it didn’t hurt the ship?” I asked.

“That’s why we threw it just as the door closed,” she said. “Jenna told me nothing hurts ship skin.”

I hadn’t seen any marks from our hard landing, and the New Making had sat on the grass plains for years with no sign of weathering. Still… “What about our stuff?”

Liam sat down next to me. “They were ripping it up anyway. They needed a message.”

“They were bigger than demon dogs.” I shivered. “Scarier.”

“Yes.” Liam sighed. “But they looked like cousins. Maybe we should call them big demons.” He laughed, the sound marred by a nervous glitch.

Nonetheless it broke the tension and I smiled at him. We were all right. Even Windy. “Windy warned me. We’d have died if she hadn’t sensed those things before the bells went off.”

Kayleen crooned at Windy. “Good beast.” Then she spoke to us. “Good thing I brought her.”

I eyed the two of them. Kayleen leaned into Windy. The hebra butting her softly, her ears forward and soft. “You mean instead of leaving her safe in the hebra barn back home?”

Kayleen recoiled as my words struck her, and even Windy raised her head, looking at me accusingly.

“We’d all be safer somewhere else,” I said, knowing it was the wrong thing to say, but not caring. It was truth.

“Like at home.” Liam stood up. “I want to go outside and look around. Kayleen, are the boundary bells still working? Still showing clear?”

She nodded. “I’ll go with you.” She looked at me. “Chelo, will you stay with Windy?”

I frowned. I wanted to go with Liam.

Liam knew. “No, Kayleen. Windy will be happier with you. Besides, we need you safe. You’re the only one who can get us home.”

Kayleen looked torn. “Give her a minute to calm down, and I’ll tie her back here. Then I can go stand in the doorway and watch.”

We had to wait. Only Kayleen could open the door.

But that couldn’t be right. Jenna had. Maybe I couldn’t fly it, but this was my technology as much as Kayleen’s. It belonged to all of us.
I thought of the reader Jenna had given me once in the cave, a pale way to read data buttons compared to Joseph and Kayleen’s skills, but it had worked. Surely the skimmer had
some
manual controls.…

I stood, my legs still a little shaky. “Okay. I’m going to go back and clean up in the hold.”

“Here,” Liam said, “I’ll help.”

Kayleen had trapped herself into staying to comfort her hebra. For a moment, I saw her tense, realizing it, and thought she might try to keep us with her in the cabin. But she simply turned to Windy, her back to us, and began crooning again.

We hadn’t really made much of a mess tumbling inside. Four or five boxes lay on the floor, some empty, so they must have held the camping gear. One of the silver boxes had been pulled out of its safe nest and opened. The crazy-ball had probably come from there. Ignoring that box for now, Liam and I stacked the others. As he finished setting the last one up high, I walked over by the hold door, really the ramp, now folded in so it looked like a square against the hull.

Most altered technology could be used by hand. Sure enough, I spotted three small symbols etched faintly onto the wall to the right of the door, about my shoulder height.

I studied them.

A circle, a triangle, and two lines next to each other. The circle for opening? I reached up and brushed my fingers lightly over the symbol. Cool air washed across my cheek as the door began to open. I gasped and felt Liam’s hand on my shoulder. I touched the triangle. The lights began to fade slowly.

Damn.

I swallowed. The lines were to the right. I ran my hand over them, and the ramp stopped, partly open. I turned my attention back to the lights, trying to turn them back up, succeeding at plunging us into darkness.

“Good idea.” Liam’s voice in my ear, sounding pleased. “Not so good execution,” he teased.

The lights bloomed back on and the door finished closing. Neither was my doing. Kayleen stood in the doorway, her mouth a tight, disapproving line. “I would have shown you how to do that.”

Maybe. I bit my tongue and called back, “Thanks.”

Kayleen came up beside us. “Windy’s cross-tied. Before anyone goes out, we’ll need weapons.”

Ghosts of Jenna saying almost the same thing at the beginning of our fight with Artistos—the one that ended with Joseph leaving—flitted through my memory. I had kept a small light laser gun from that time, had even carried it everywhere with me the first year afterward. It didn’t do any good today, resting in a spot I’d hollowed out for it in a cubby in my wagon.

What did Kayleen giving us weapons mean? That she’d rather die than fly us back under duress? After all, we could use the weapons on her. Or did whatever fantasy she’d built about our life here override her common sense completely?

Maybe she just knew I wouldn’t shoot her.

I sighed audibly, resigned. “What did you bring?”

She gave each of us one of the hand-lasers like mine, small fast weapons that could be pocketed and wouldn’t necessarily kill. They’d be enough to hold off something like the dogs in ones or twos, but not a pack of them. I already had a flashlight clipped to my belt, but she handed Liam one.

She pawed slowly through the box. I was pleased to see one of the little data-button readers meant for people like us who didn’t bathe in information. There were a few more crazy-balls (wrapped carefully), some of the same thin stakes Jenna had laid out in the hangar on the Grass Plains, Kayleen’s frizzer (which made us invisible to the Artistos data nets), and a multitude of things I didn’t recognize.

Kayleen pointed at the long thin sticks. She said, “These are pretty traditional projectile weapons—aim, fire, if you hit the target you kill it. I practiced with them on djuri. They work, but they’re hard to aim. Besides, I’ve only found one box of the projectiles.” She set aside three small boxes that could probably be pocketed or strung on belts. “Good for disrupting data flows.” She grimaced. “Not much use here.”