by Tam Linsey
She choked on a sob. “My mother was caught in Flame Runna fire. When they captured me and my sister, they left her to suffer.”
His own mother flashed to mind. He’d been only nine when the Hunger came, and Rann got sick. Momma had taken the Knife rather than give her son over to it, allowing him time to get well. Rann had never been the same, the playfulness of childhood transforming into more precarious diversions. When Pops had returned from trade that spring, Jubal had been glad to join him on the trail, leaving the Red Hand and the ghosts of their hollow-eyed faces celebrating her flesh-feast.
He hung his head a moment. At least he’d been there to tell his mother goodbye. The Flame Runnas had taken that from Eily. Her skin was green, but inside, she was just a woman in need of comfort. He swung around to sit cross-legged next to her, one shoulder barely touching hers. In the colorless light of the moon, she didn’t look like a Flame Runna at all. “Death comes to everyone. Some find it more peacefully than others.”
Against his shoulder, he felt a shudder roll though her. “Gid can never know.”
“About your mother?”
“The child. Let him think she died on her own.”
Jubal squinted in her direction, but she turned away. Why would she want to lie to Gid? Easing the child into death had been risky, but Jubal couldn’t leave her there like that. Perhaps Eily considered his mercy weak. Gid had been strong. He’d walked away. Or perhaps she begrudged Jubal his action because he wasn’t a Shaman. Should he have left the deed to Gid? He spoke through tight lips. “It wasn’t a proper Knife, but I ended her pain.”
Eily took a deep breath. “Do you ever wish it could be different?”
“Of course. I dread the day I must share my father’s flesh-feast.”
“Your father’s alive?”
Jubal stiffened. He’d said too much.
She shifted to face him. “Is he a trader, too?”
He considered his words. “He was. But he woke one day unable to walk. We spent an entire summer at a fish camp on the Sunset Shore while he recovered.”
“But he didn’t take the Knife.”
“Many wanted him to. But we had enough merchandise to keep us.”
“Where is he now?”
“I’m looking for a place for him to settle,” he evaded.
“You should have brought him. He might have stayed at the Holdout.”
Jubal straightened, surprised by the offer. Pops was old, close to the Knife. A burden and expense most tribes would not bear. Yet behind the lightning wall, there had been more elderly people than Jubal had ever seen in one place. So many wrinkles and bent backs, and even one man with milky-white eyes who seemed to be blind—something never seen among the tribes. When the alarm had sounded, several young people had taken time to help the elders flee. Elder relatives. Strangers would be different. “He’s an outsider.”
Her white hat caught the moonlight as she tilted her head. “They took me in. And you’d have to stay and work to support him. Respect the Holdout’s laws. Help with the crops and animals. A different kind of life.”
He sucked in his cheeks, staring into the dark. If he hadn’t seen the people behind the lightning wall, he’d never have considered such a thing possible. What would it be like to live without fear of the Knife? Could he give up his trade to care for his father? His trade was his life—all he knew. “Then why do Lisius and the others want to leave?”
She slowly let out a breath that fanned over his skin with the scent of evergreen. Pulling her knees to her chest, she said, “There are some rules not everyone agrees with. Wint and Pulo’s relationship, for one thing.”
Jubal shot a glance toward the men’s blankets. Homosexuality wasn’t an issue on the Tox; not everyone wanted to bring children to life out here. “What about Lisius?”
“He’s not as docile as the Holdout requires. No one fights there, ever.”
Jubal scrunched up his face, trying to digest this information. “How do they decide who is their Big Man, then?”
A small laugh came from her. “It’s kind of like everyone’s a Big Man. Everyone has a say. They agree to abide by consensus and compromise.”
“What if someone doesn’t agree?”
“Oh, they always agree eventually.”
He shook his head. “But what if they don’t?”
She hesitated. “Not long after I arrived, the Order split into Old and New. The Old Order refused to accept conversion—green skin—under any circumstances, and the New Order decided to accept the procedure in return for lifesaving medical treatments. But the disagreement was peaceful. We still live side by side.”
“And you trust this Old Order not to harm you? What if they were to disagree about that?”
“Both Orders believe violence is a sin. Even those at the Holdout with green skin. They would never harm me or anyone.”
He pushed to his feet, shaking his head. Peaceful Flame Runnas? And yet, he and Rann had been there and lived to tell.
As he walked away, she said, “Your father would be safe there.”
Jubal’s pulse pounded in his ears. Even if he could find a way to spare Eily, once she found out about his betrayal, he’d never be welcome beyond the lightning wall again. He could never be anything but her enemy.
Chapter Fourteen
Dawn spread across the sky, and Eily shielded her eyes with her arm in one last attempt to sleep. Too many thoughts had kept her awake. But at the coming light, the men roused and began packing. With a sigh, she tossed aside her blanket. Most of the food was gone, but she made sure Gid ate a couple of bites of jerky before handing the packet back to Jubal.
Jubal donned his pack, took out his machete, and began carving a thin trail into the amarantox. The foliage had become shorter here, and the stalks grew close together. The trader moved quickly, barely making enough room to pass. Lisius ducked through the leaves after him, with Pulo and Wint close behind. Eily followed with Gid right on her heels. Rann brought up the rear.
“Why we going so fast?” Gid called out, his face pale and thin lipped, but he kept up his swaying gait.
Eily was proud he spoke Cannibal but embarrassed he didn’t have the sense to keep his voice low. “There could be survivors from the fire. Cannibals eager to take revenge on a group of Flame Runnas.”
Pulo bellowed back, “Let them come.”
Farther ahead, Lisius added, “The group would be smaller after a Flame Runna attack. Easy to take out.”
Jubal scowled over his shoulder and stopped long enough for the group to catch up. In a low, firm voice, he said, “We’re traders, not hunters. Be quiet, and keep moving.”
Then he continued cutting trail without a backward glance. The reversions lowered their gazes and followed without complaint. Eily breathed a sigh of relief, once again grateful for Jubal’s intervention. Her legs and feet burned from so many days of travel, and she longed for Gid’s mini more than she ever thought possible. At least she had her natural alkaloids to dull the pain. She considered offering Gid a kiss to ease his suffering but knew he’d refuse.
As the sun reached its zenith, the heat became stifling. Even the plants seemed to feel it, leaves drooping in utter stillness. The shorter stalks sometimes lowered below eye level, allowing her a view of the rolling miles of plants around them, but unfortunately there was no breeze to be had. Sweat coated her legs, sticking her skirt to them as she walked. She longed to ruck up the hem and expose her legs to the air, but one glance at Gid quelled the impulse. Instead, she lowered her head and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Wiping sweat from her eyes for the tenth time, she blinked. Had the light faded? Her head rose above the canopy again, and she saw the horizon had turned deep gray. Far in the distance, a low rumble echoed across the sky. In response, the limp foliage rustled as a breath of wind sighed across the top.
Jubal’s machete strokes increased pace, his staff rattling in his other hand. “Lightning storm,” he grumbled. “We need to find sh
elter.”
Soon, the stalks were bending their heads low to the east, thrashing as the wind flung loose debris against the travelers. Clouds blackened the sky. Eily squinted against the grit as her dress tugged against her legs. Her bonnet strings slapped her face. She jerked the hat free and stowed it in a pocket with the beacon before the wind took it. Ahead, Gid trudged on, head down, holding his hat firmly in place with one hand.
Just ahead, Jubal and Rann had stopped and put their faces close together to shout over the storm. Rann pointed north, but Jubal shook his head and gestured east. Rann shrugged, and they changed course so their backs were to the wind.
“What are we doing?” Gid asked.
“I think they’re trying to find the trail,” Eily yelled into his ear. “The cannibals have common shelters along most trade routes.”
Lightning flashed overhead, then a peal of thunder shook Eily clear to her feet. They passed a stand of tamarisk, trunks holding against the wind while thinner branches whipped about in frenzy. Past that, the amarantox thinned, and Jubal halted. He shielded his eyes with one hand, looking left and right. Leaning over, he put his mouth near Rann’s ear again.
Lisius ventured further east to the top of a small rise. He turned to shout at them, swinging one arm in a broad “come on” gesture. Eily couldn’t hear over the wind, but his mouth seemed to form the word, “cave.” He disappeared down the other side of the hill.
Jubal shouted, “Lisius, wait!”
Lightning flashed again, followed almost immediately by the crack of thunder. Jubal raced after Lisius with Rann right behind him. Wint and Pulo followed but stopped at the top of the hill. Wint dropped to a crouch.
Eily grasped Gid’s hand, tripping over stalks to reach the others. Fat drops of rain began hissing around them. Eily could barely keep her eyes open against the deluge. Her dress ballooned and then slapped against her thighs, drenched within seconds. She had a rain poncho in her pack, but it was too late to keep herself dry now. At least the pack was waterproof.
She stopped next to Wint and tried to shield her eyes from the downpour. A ragged path of broken amarantox led the way to a flat rock jutting from the opposite rise. “What is it?”
Pulo said, “I think they killed Lisius.”
“What?” Eily squinted harder. Rain cascaded off the rock and flowed past, churning with mud. Jubal and Rann shook their staves at a dark hole beneath the stone. Behind the curtain of water, Eily could just make out the shapes of men. The tips of their spears broke through the sluicing water to menace the traders. Lisius’s prone figure lay curled just outside the entry.
“We have to help!” she cried, lunging down the hill. Her foot went out from under her in the mud, and she fell, sliding feet first toward the cave. Halfway down she regained control and rose to stumble the rest of the way.
Jubal was arguing with the men in the cave. “I said keep the Peace!”
Gid reached Lisius just behind her, waving his sodden hanky as a peace flag. Cannibals didn’t honor peace flags, but she’d never gotten around to telling Gid that fact. He waved it at the spearmen like he was washing a window, shouting, “Geep de Peace!”
She dropped to her knees next to the fallen reversion. The water flowing around Lisius’s body ran red. He clutched his ribs, bright crimson bubbling between his fingers.
A stocky warrior clothed only in short leather leggings redirected his weapon Eily’s way. A fire from within the cave turned his silhouette into a shadow. “More Flame Runnas!”
“Keep the Peace!” Eily put her hands in front of her, palm out. She blinked rain out of her eyes, torn between Lisius and the threat from the cave.
“The Peace doesn’t count for Flame Runnas,” the man said, his stance wide. The rain pouring from the overhang sluiced over his shoulders and trickled from his beaded beard.
Jubal edged sideways to place himself between her and the cannibals. “They’re under my staff. My property.”
“No toll you can pay to let Flame Runnas live.” Another burst of lightning brightened the sky.
Rann plunked his staff against the ground and stepped forward. “We’re taking them to the One Tree. To trade with King Sefe. That’s where we’re going.”
The man facing Jubal hesitated, then looked to his comrades. “Hold.”
Eily’s racing heart squeezed tight. She cleared a wet strand of hair from her eyes. All three spears swung her direction. She could barely breathe.
The man’s attention shifted past her to the hill. “How many you got?”
She twisted her head to see Wint and Pulo descending. Jubal crouched next to her, one hand hovering over Lisius’s mouth and nose. “One less, I think.”
The cannibal seemed to consider, then jerked his head sideways and backed into the cave.
Pressing her fingertips to Lisius’s neck, Eily found a weak pulse. He didn’t move, and his skin felt cold. Something stung the back of her neck, and then her hand. A ball of hail bounced off Lisius’s cheek. She looked up at Jubal. “Get him inside.”
Jubal grabbed Lisius under the shoulders, and Gid carried his feet, hauling the wounded man inside the overhang. Rann passed them, removing his pack to sit by the fire as if he owned it. Wint and Pulo edged inside, barely past the deluge of water. About ten paces in, three more men crouched against the far wall, armed with knives. Hunters. But even hunters would honor the Peace in a storm.
“How is he?” asked Gid.
Blood trickled from a wound just below the center of Lisius’s ribs, creating a dark puddle on the dirt floor. She pressed both hands against the seepage. “I don’t know what to do, Gid.”
She ran through her minimal first aid training from the Ward. The bumps and scrapes of children were no comparison. When a serious injury had occurred, the doctor had handled it. Gid slipped off his pack and dug inside to produce the small first aid kit. He opened it so Eily could peer inside. The bandages and analgesic pills would do Lisius little good. He needed a surgeon. “The beacon! Gid, it’s in my pocket. Call for help.”
Gid fished in the folds of her skirt and found her pocket. “Where?” He switched to the other side. “Are you sure you have it?”
Her brows pinched with worry. She’d felt the box banging against her thigh as the wind had picked up. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been aware of it. “Yes. I picked it up before we left camp. Here, keep pressure on this.” She transferred his hands to Lisius and stood to search her pockets. Empty. She trembled. “I must have dropped it outside.”
She scrambled toward the opening. Gid called over his shoulder, “Eily, let me.”
Jubal caught her arm. “What are you doing?”
“I dropped something!”
“You can’t go out there.”
She tried to elbow past him. “It’s the only thing that can save him.”
Gid raised his voice. “Eily, take care of Lisius. I’ll search for the beacon.”
Jubal tightened his grip. “Unless you have some Flame Runna magic, nothing can save him.”
Eily stopped struggling against him and swallowed. The sky flashed and shook, sending a gust of wet air against their faces. Tell him the truth. She squared her shoulders. “The black box you saw last night—I can use it to call the Protectorate and bring them here. I had it in my pocket a few minutes ago.”
Jubal blinked at her a few times, mouth hanging open. “The flying machines will come here?”
Eily swallowed. “I have to push the button—but yes, we were to use it if we got into trouble.”
His teeth clicked shut and eyes narrowed. But there was no time to make him understand that she hadn’t intended to betray him. She yanked her arm from his grip and darted into the storm. The tracks they’d left in the mud had already washed away in the pounding rain and hail. The wind tangled her wet dress against her legs, and she fell. She blinked back dirty water.
Chunks of ice the size of her fingernail pummeled her. She flinched, instinct telling her to run for cove
r, but the desire to find the beacon drove her outward. They’d come over the rise from the west, so she put her face to the wind and stumbled up the hill, trying not to slip again. Wind and rain sucked her breath away until her chest ached, but she didn’t stop. The box could be anywhere out here, carried away in the runnels of water. She reached the top of the incline and shielded her eyes against the onslaught, trying to decide how to proceed.
A firm hand drew her back. “Come inside,” Jubal shouted. “He’s gone.”
For a moment she couldn’t process what he’d said. Then she stiffened. Lisius was dead? Had Jubal killed him like he had the child? “No. He can’t be.”
“It’s not safe out here.”
She jerked from his grasp. “Did you kill him?”
His mouth turned into a deeper frown, lines appearing between his brows. “No one could save him. I didn’t need to wield the Knife. Now come.”
She tried to look into his eyes, to see if he was lying, but the rain made it difficult. His hand gripped her arm again, drawing her toward the cave. She pushed her dripping hair out of her face and allowed him to guide her.
Her foot slipped on the hill, and she caught herself on her other knee. An arms-length away, she spotted the sharp edge of the beacon poking out of the mud. She surged forward to scoop up the box, limbs weak with relief. She’d found it. Then she remembered it was too late for Lisius, and her stomach soured.
Jubal helped her up, then held out a hand. “You must never use that. Give it to me.”
She clutched the box against her chest. Would he refuse to continue his escort if she didn’t comply? He promised to take you. Promised you she’s safe. If he lied to her, his word as a trader would be compromised. He’d never be welcome at the Holdout again. A trader’s life depended on his integrity.