by Gin Hollan
Arabeth made a mental note to buy a horse as soon as possible, then realized she wouldn't have access to her bank account. All she had were a few large bills she carried for emergencies, and they might not be accepted outside Blastborn. She might have to pawn tools or other items from her satchel, unless they found the hidden railroad connections on this side. She didn’t like the odds on any of this.
An hour into their walk the trees fell away and Arabeth spotted a strange shape off one side of the road, a fair distance into the shrubs. It looked like there was another automaton. It wasn’t moving. It’s posture and the direction it was facing reminded her of a Sentinel, as though it stood watch.
Her heart skipped a beat. If it was watching, who was it reporting to? She didn’t want to say anything to the others. She would ask Mabel sometime when they were out of earshot. There is no sense getting them alarmed. Graham was having enough trouble dealing with his present reality, as it was.
The day drew long, and the sun was getting low before a settlement came into view. From a distance, it looked like a walled village - not large, or tall, but well-enclosed. As they got close, Arabeth realized the outer ring of the village was made from long line of caravan wagons, like she'd heard about in gypsy stories.
These one had the wheels removed and sat fully on the ground. There had to be at least a hundred of them. A gap between two would let four people walking abreast through, but nothing with height. A three-sided metal bar straddled the gap, forcing anyone on horseback to dismount, and sharp enough to hurt anyone who refused.
"Interesting. How many people live here?" Arabeth wondered.
"No one really keeps a count,” Mable said. "Only members of the original twenty families can stay, although we do have travellers that visit for a day or two, if they pay well enough."
The wagon stopped just outside the circle. Although the road split in either direction at that point, circling around, there was a narrow path in. Arabeth followed two of them and the wagon inside, but the old man held a hand up to stop Sam and Graham. Arabeth shrugged.
“Their home, their rules,” she said, glad they let her in. The more she saw, the more curious she was.
Tiny amber lights hovered everywhere overhead like fireflies. She couldn't see wires connecting them and became more curious. Arabeth walked forward, looking. More caravan wagons filled the interior.
She picked Marble up, setting her up on her shoulder and took a few steps forward along the road. For a moment, the fox acted like she might jump down again, but then rested with her front elbows hooked in front of Arabeth’s shoulder and let her legs sink into Arabeth’s hood.
The interior wagon rings were well-spaced, as though to give people a little privacy. Very little, Arabeth thought. Still, sot everyone liked to hear their neighbours personal goings-on.
There were five lines of tall, wooden, highly embellished wagons - the outside ring and four more at 30 foot intervals inward. There could be more than 20 families living here, Arabeth realized. The descendants of 20 families, though… how many people really did live here? It seemed well established.
Arabeth continued walking, enchanted by the strangeness of it. The centre was an enormous circular area divided into quadrants. Between the quadrants was more dirt road, about the same width as the gap between the two rings of caravans, leading out in four directions. North, east, west, and south. One quadrant to be for small farm animals, like goats and chickens.
Another quadrant was full of work tables and equipment, including saw tables and forge. Another quadrant seemed to be for parking vehicles, like other small wagons similar to the one Melanie was on. It was hard to tell with the fourth quadrant was for. It seemed to hold parts for things. The fourth was strange. A long, tall etched-glass cylinder, four feet across the middle and reaching up to the roof. Arabeth walked over, wanting a look in one of three small unetched half circles sitting at eye level.
Mabel jogged up and pulled on her cuff.
"Miss, you need to wait by the wagon. No wandering off. Outsiders are not allowed this area."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wander, but I've never seen anything like this settlement. It's fascinating, like stepping into a different world." She smiled and turned to face the girl. "Has the doctor arrived?"
"Soon," the girl nodded. "Grandfather went to fetch her. You should wait with your friend."
Arabeth followed, slowly, a little sad that she was being pulled back.
"Mable, what is that glass box for?" Sam asked.
"That's a Grimshaw. Seers use it to talk to other cities, for trade and news," she said, shrugging.
As they walked up to the wagon, Arabeth saw a second person laying in the wagon and started to worry. Sam and Graham had been allowed to enter the caravan ring, too.
"What's going on?" Oddly, her voice seemed muffled.
A tall, thin woman stepped up to her, with both hands extended. She took one of Arabeth's hands and started talking, nodding and shaking her head now and then as she went. Arabeth didn't understand a word of it. "Mabel. Help," she said, looking for the girl.
"Oh, right," the girl trotted over and shook the sleeve of the thin woman before starting to talk to her.
The woman let Arabeth's hand slide free and began to talk rapidly to Mable.
"She says, your friend is lucky to be alive. The Transition usually kills foreigners. There is nothing she can do. You need to keep her comfortable and give her water until she wakes up fully."
"Who is the other person?" Arabeth asked, then covered her worry with another concern. "And where can we exchange our money to buy food and water?"
Mabel asked the thin woman.
"The other woman is a favour. Taoma wants to hire you to take her to a doctor in the nearby city."
"She looks dead."
"She is, but we can't bury her. She refuses to stay dead," the girl's voice shook as she spoke.
"What?" Arabeth and Sam both exclaimed.
"Taoma will exchange your money, as well as supply you with two days food and water if you will do this favour."
"What do you mean, won't stay dead?"
"She sits up and starts moaning about things. Her ghost won't go away. We send it out, and it comes back later. She needs to be exor... ecksa... she needs her ghost sent on to the next world."
Arabeth realized Mabel's perpetual smile had faded, replaced with a strange sadness.
"Well, I've never heard of such a thing. Of course we won't do this," Graham really had his hackles up about this, it seemed.
// Chapter 5 //
The evening air shifted, sending a cool breeze wafting past. With the amber lights above in the coming twilight, it gave the moment a sense of peace. Arabeth closed her eyes. They needed to stop thinking moment to moment. What was the long-term game here?
Yes, home was the goal, but this once in a lifetime opportunity to see how people lived out here, to learn about their gadgets and other technology. It was a rare chance and... well... that was a powerful lure. She wouldn't share that with the others. They'd think she'd slipped a cog.
"We need food and water. We need our money exchanged. I can't see how we have a choice," Sam said. "This is our ticket into a place where they might see this as a favour as well."
"Or they may lock us up and hang us in the morning, seeing a half-dead woman and another that is in the back of this thing."
She sighed and closed her eyes. At least Sam saw reason. Graham hadn’t had a rational thought all day, so she wasn’t listening to him.
Mabel spoke to Taoma again and the woman nodded.
"We can put a bonnet up.”
“A what?” Sam asked.
“We can put a canopy on top of the wagon box. It's going to get really warm out tomorrow anyway," she said.
Arabeth opened her eyes and smiled. That would be a definite help. It was late afternoon now, and she wanted to keep going today.
“Can someone put the bonnet up now? I think we need to keep going,”
she said. There was no sign of rain and that was a plus, as far as she was concerned. Melanie would be in the wagon, but the rest of them would be walking.
“I’ll go ask,” Mabel said as she turned and jogged away.
Taoma moved to the far side of the wagon, seeming to check the woman’s physical state. When she did Arabeth turned to Sam.
"I say we do everything they ask," she whispered but Graham overheard. “This will get us what we need.” If they were trusted with something like this, people might be willing to help her track Tanner’s people.
"You trust them?" Graham looked at her with wide eyes.
"Until they prove untrustworthy, I don’t see why not. They didn't have to come help us on the read, or let us in when we got here. Now they're giving us everything we need in exchange for a favour. Adjust your viewfinder, Graham. This is a good thing."
"You've heard of confidence games, right? They get you to trust them increasingly over time until you turn over your one thing of real value."
"And what might that be, Graham? Do they want your goggles or something?" Sam snapped, adjusting his own glasses. “You know we need this.”
Graham clamped his mouth shut, glaring at the wagon.
Mable jogged back over, a broad smile on her face. “Masun has to find the spare bonnet, but he’ll put it on before you go,” she said, a little short of breath.
"Then it’s settled," Arabeth told the girl. “We’ll do it.”
Taoma smiled and walked over to take one of Arabeth's hands again, saying a few short, soft sentences before letting her go and leaving.
"She thanks you. She thinks you have a good heart, and says your friend should only sleep about five days more."
A man walked past them, leaving the town ring, giving barely a nod as he passed. Arabeth realized that if this had been Blastborn, a crowd would have formed. Was that their culture or caution? Either way, Arabeth was grateful.
"Follow him. His shop is that way," Mabel pointed at the man as he waited just outside the town ring. "I have to go help Taoma."
Arabeth didn't move, preferring to stay by her friend, still feeling a little guilty about wandering off earlier. It was weird, seeing her lay next to a corpse, looking nearly as dead.
"I'll watch her. They seem more comfortable dealing with you," Sam said. "Hurry, he's getting away."
She hesitated, but only for a moment. They'd finished off what little food she'd had, and Marble's chicken pieces were almost gone.
The exterior sides of several of the caravans opened their outer wall halfway up, propped on long sticks. It looked like a perpetual street fair. Six units down, she found him again and walked up to where he had his shop open. A few simple transactions later she had four backpacks with bedrolls, food, water containers, and coins exchanged to something useful on this side of the mountain.
Arabeth was a little stunned at the exchange rate she was getting before realizing most of the equipment was paid for by transporting the dead woman. She tucked some of the new coins in her jacket and put the pouch holding the rest in her satchel.
"Can we get soap, toothbrushes, and a few hair brushes?" she pantomimed as she went, and was pleased he understood as he set the items down.
A change of socks might be too much to ask for, but she tried explaining. Again, he understood and retrieved four pairs of socks. They even looked to be the right sizes. Clever man, sizing everyone up as a potential customer, including Melanie. She held her hand out with some coins, but he waved her off.
Looking at the stack of items in front of her, she considered going for help. Thank God the job came with a wagon.
Someone approached from the outside, clearing their throat as they got close. Turning, Arabeth saw Mabel and Taoma again. As they neared, Mabel held both arms out with a strange device sitting across her open hands. Arabeth had seen pictures of objects similar to this. It was a weapon.
"This is a... pistol?" she asked, softly. They seemed less dangerous in person. She reached out and took it, feeling the metal and wood of it, looking to see how it all fit together. It differed from the images she'd seen. And it was lighter than she imagined. This one had a small clear tube in the middle along the top where ammunition would have gone. She rocked it slowly to one side and a green crystal shard rolled into view.
"Taoma says that when mo... the woman sits up, you need to shoot her with that. That will push the ghost back out for a while and leave us in peace. And you can keep the pistol as part of the payment and,” Mable’s voice changed as if she were quoting someone, “it would be best if you don't come back this way, unless you have to bring Mable…” She cleared her throat. “I mean me, home again. I mean, if my relatives won't have me. We sent a letter, but there’s been no response."
"You’re traveling with us?" That wasn’t what made Arabeth pause. She stared as what Mabel misspoke hit her. That was Mable’s mother? The sorrow of it pushed in on Arabeth. The girl was escorting her mother to her final resting place. Melanie needed to wake up – she was the empath among them.
"I’ll earn my keep as your guide. I know this area like the back of my hand," Mable said.
Arabeth took in a deep breath. How could they drag a child two days travel away from her home to family that may not accept her? Of course they’d bring her back. Even if it slowed them down, they would do it.
"I have to go," Mabel insisted. "Please don’t embarrass me in front of my grandmother."
Slowly Arabeth nodded, turning to back her purchases. The vendor had packed them and, smiling, had them sitting on the counter, waiting for her. The mess was so much more manageable tucked neatly into the backpacks, she thought, glad to have a momentary distraction.
Taoma said a few words to Arabeth, then to Mabel, then walked away. Words of parting, she guessed.
Mabel inhaled deeply then, with a slight shudder, let the air out again.
"We need to go," she said to Arabeth. "They think the ghost will come back, see her body is gone and move on to the next dimension, but it may follow us, too."
The vendor called Mabel over. His smile was a little sad as he reached out and took the girl's hands in his own for a moment. They exchanged a few words and he handed her a small backpack. Mabel turned away from him, tears in her eyes, but resolve etched across her face.
Arabeth slung one pack across her back and carried the other three. The pistol was tucked into a long interior pocket, bumping her every time she took a few steps. That would take some getting used to. There was no good way to pack it and keep it accessible at the same time. This was the compromise.
She wanted time to examine the pistol but the guys had been doing a whole lot of nothing, waiting for her on the roadside, then waiting for her here. They were probably tired of all the delays, but she hadn't had a break in hours. When sleep finally came, she suspected she'd be out like a light, probably with the pistol hidden under her pillow for safekeeping.
Unless whomever was guarding the wagon needed it. Right.
The wagon. That was a complication none of them could anticipate. Weird. People don’t get possessed and repossessed, needing to be intermittently shot to keep them down. Maybe they could figure out what was going on with the woman as they travelled.
"How far away is the city?" she asked Mabel. She'd worry about parking the… wagon when the time came.
"Owen is two days away. I remember an inn on the road between, but I don’t remember how far it is. They tell me my brain is rewiring itself because I'm twelve, so it's easy to forget things. I think my head is just too full since the Transition."
"I know that feeling," Arabeth smiled.
Back at the wagon, the guys saw her approach and stood up.
"Are you done shopping?" Graham asked.
Arabeth didn’t hear him. Instead she was staring at the colourful canopy draped out over vertical wooden bows attached from side to side on the wagon now. Stunning dye-work with patterns that reminded her of a pink and gold sunrise started at the bottom
of one side and gradually became a stunning deep blue sunset on the other. There was a subtle pattern under it, though. Like a map, or a maze. She wanted to draw it, to see if it had meaning beyond imagery.
Sam reached out and lifted the two packs in her hands, setting them in the front end of the wagon.
"We can pull the women up nearer to the top of the wagon. Then you will be able to sit and hang your legs out, resting your feet," he suggested, starting the process before Arabeth could argue. He looked tired, too. A different kind of tired. He'd been really quiet since their dramatic escape.
"Mabel remembers a place we can rest for the night along the road here," Arabeth said. "Let's put all the packs in there, if there's room." She looked in. It seemed to have more space. "Is this the same wagon?"
"Yes," Sam said.
"You got food, right?" Graham asked. "I'm famished."
"In here." Arabeth pointed toward where Sam had put the packs in the wagon. "Guard yours wisely. It has dried food, water pouches, and other things we'll need on this trip. Sam, here’s yours."
She took her own pack over to the back of the wagon, where Melanie lay and paused before she set it by her feet. The old man hadn’t put Melanie’s shoes back on, and her toes twitched now and then.
No one spoke as she did, but she knew they shared her hope. Melanie would sleep a few more days, but she should be alright.
There was no seat or buckboard. It was a plain wagon, unless you considered the gadgetry attached to the front axle, with three wooden sides and a tailgate. Arabeth dropped the tailgate, planning to sit there and let her sore, tired feet dangle down. She lined herself up backwards to hop up on the wagon between the feet of the other two occupants.
Sam took hold of her waist and helped her up. Smiling, she whispered a thank as she blushed and looked away. He paid way too much attention to her, she thought. Well, not too much, but she wasn’t accustomed to this kind of thoughtfulness.