Raging Star

by Moira Young

  I may thank you fer it later, but not now, I says. I should of bin gone ages ago. Gimme a hand up.

  Outside, a chill grey world rains an rains. Steadily. Patiently. The ground’s turnin to mud. I find Nero huddled half asleep on the dry of a ledge. Webb Reno’s there too. Crouched on his haunches with a little cloth bundle, shelterin unner his drippin cloak. He jumps to his feet. Ready when you are, ma’am, he says.

  No more ma’am, please. I’m Saba, I says. You kissed yer wife g’bye, Webb?

  Well, sure, he says.

  Go kiss her agin. I got a couple things to do.

  Nass Camp’s bin awake fer some time, includin Lugh an Tommo. I got a hunger on me fer once. They take me to a shelter that’s bin rigged fer cookin. A stringy old fella fries me a tin of corn porridge. While I share it with Nero they tell me how the war parties slipped away in the night one by one. Slim an Creed, Ash an Manuel an their peaceful army of sixty souls. They couldn’t wait to be gone, Lugh says, their hearts was so fired by what I said.

  It was stirrin stuff, says Molly.

  I cain’t remember more’n bits of it, flashes. It’s hazy in my memory, like I dreamed it. I ain’t never bin a good talker, but it’s strange what you can do in the moment. It won’t be long now till some of ’em show up to New Eden farms. What I’d give to be there. To know right away if this works. It has to work. What can I wish by? The stars, the sun? Maybe Slim’s old rabbit foot. No doubt he’ll rub it enough fer all of us.

  The moment I sat down to eat, a gaggle of silent kids gathered to stare. I can jest see ’em from the corner of my eye. One tow-headed chancer, braver’n the rest, edges closer, bit by bit. Till I can hear his breath, shallow an nervous, at my elbow. They’re puttin me off my grub. I growl an they scatter, shriekin with terrified delight.

  After food an sage tea, I’m anxious to be gone. My head’s clearin, but the weather sure ain’t. I wrap my sheema around an pull my coat collar up. As I splash to an fro in the mud, gittin Hermes ready, I realize I ain’t seen Auriel this mornin. I better say g’bye before we ride out.

  Lugh an Tommo walk their horses towards me, wavin that we need to go. They’re in their Tonton gear, lookin smart. Black knee robes, polished boots an kit. Webb follows behind on a pony. With him along, I figgered on travellin to Edenhome the roundabout ways. Far safer. But I didn’t figger we’d be so late to set off. An cross country will be rough goin in this rain. Do we dare try our luck on the roads agin?

  In that silent way of hers, Auriel appears by my side. A patchwork parasol keeps the rain off. In such murk, she don’t need her eyeshield. Her pale eyes flare like ice in the gloom. I came to wish you luck, she says.

  I’m sure I’ll need it, I says.

  I got every confidence in you. She hesitates a moment, then she says, I don’t think you know this. We wouldn’t of made it in time if it warn’t fer Emmi.

  Emmi, I says.

  The starfall told us to come, says Auriel, but when I started gittin her messages, we hurried here quick as we could.

  What messages? I says.

  They came through the light, she says. But they started in the earth.

  Speak plain, I says. I ain’t got time fer this.

  Yer sister’s had the call, she says. Emmi’s a shaman, Saba. She’s an earth speaker. An I’d say a powerful one if this is how she starts off, without no teacher to guide her.

  I stare at her, speechless. Emmi, a shaman.

  Saba, calls Lugh. We need to go.

  Don’t worry an don’t dwell on it, says Auriel. It’s a wonderful thing. I’ll see her right. D’you have all you need fer now?

  Fer the first time, I notice the clothes she’s got on. The same long black tunic she wore yesterday. I’m that much taller’n her, it would hang on me like a robe. A black Tonton robe.

  There is one thing I could do with, I says.

  So far an no further. The first four checkpoints went easy. Lugh shouted out the password as we drew alongside an after a second shout, sometimes a third, the lowliest grunt would run from the guard hut. He’d splash through the chill rain an mud to lift the barrier. Then, wait, wetly sullen, fer us to pass through. Three Tonton with our prisoner, Webb, chained at the wrists. We hardly even got glanced at.

  Now it seems we’re outta luck. Our fifth checkpoint. The start of the Sector Eight Eastway. The guy that comes runnin is keen-eyed an bright. What right away attracts the notice of them keen eyes is me. An, in particular, my boots.

  They’re knee high, like the ones Tommo an Lugh wear. An we’re all of us muddy an wet through. But my boots is brown an scuffed. Not like theirs, black with a high shine. Which is how Tonton boots oughta be. None of us gave a thought to it. I damn myself fer a hasty fool. Danger bristles my spine as his gaze takes me in, head to toe. My hands tighten on the reins. Both my gear an Hermes’ kit is well offa the Tonton mark.

  I’m ridin at the rear. He ignores Webb, on a pony in front of me. Goes directly to Lugh an Tommo, ridin side by side at the front. Careful, boys, take care, we cain’t fail now. I can see the tension in their backs, in their shoulders, as the guy circles, givin them an their horses a good look. He takes his time. Not bothered that rain drips from his chin. That his hair’s plastered to his head. He pauses beside Lugh. Says somethin to him. Lugh says somethin back. Then he goes to Tommo an checks him over. Says somethin to him. Tommo nods.

  I’ve had to let the boys wear weapons. They wouldn’t pass fer Tonton if they didn’t. Shooters, knives, ammo belts, the works. I don’t want we should hafta use ’em, but—

  Then I sag with relief. He’s liftin the barrier an wavin us on. I nod as I pass by him, but he don’t look my way. Whatever the boys said, it’s turned his notice. From my dodgy gear to the comferts of a stove. His eyes is fixed on the guard hut. Maybe a sly tot to warm his blood.

  We’re through. Now, no stoppin till Edenhome.

  His body was trembling as they rode on. He’d done it. He could hardly believe his luck. The moment she said they’d go by road, he’d known this would be his best and probably his only chance to get the message to DeMalo in time. After they’d been waved through the first four checkpoints, he’d started to fear that he wouldn’t manage it. That the whole thing would fall apart. And he dreaded the moment of being stopped, of making his move. So much could go wrong. What if DeMalo hadn’t set it up like he said he would?

  But he had. It worked just as they’d discussed.

  He’d moved, just a little. Shifted so the Tonton could see what he needed to. The grunt’s eyes widened. He knew who he was. Then, as they rode on, he let the little roll of oilskin drop to the ground. The grunt would look for it, find it when they were out of sight. Then the message would be rushed to DeMalo.

  And Jack would be gone from their lives forever.

  We’re back where we was three nights ago. In the shelter of the woods lookin through the fencewire at Edenhome. We left our horses in the same mossy dell. We was three that night-time. This day-time, with Webb, we’re four. The rain’s stopped at last. The sun cooks the world to a close, damp warmth. Steam rises from the trees an our clothes as the water melts to the air. About the only place that ain’t heavy with wet is the woodland floor beneath our feet.

  The same cain’t be said of Edenhome. The open ground between the buildins is a lake of mud. A straggly trail of ankle-deep bootprints runs to the half-raised junkbarn. There a handful of older boys work with a man who ain’t a Tonton. We can see a few kids an a couple of women walkin on boards between the beast sheds. The ducks quackle complaints as Nero teases ’em from his perch on their house. It appears everybody else is keepin indoors. The sound of kids’ voices raised in song spills from a open window. Saws an hammers racket in a workshop. There’s movement inside the two bunkhouses. There ain’t no fence patrols, no sign of the armoured boarhounds. They’re fer night watch only, it seems.

  Beside me, Webb’s got a death grip on the looker. He scans it back an forth, twitchy with hope that his daughter m
ight be here. The door of the right hand bunkhouse stands open. A girl with a bucket appears there. She empties it in a slow stream onto the muddy ground below. After her, there’s a little parade of girls. To an fro, they come an go. Ditchin dirty water, emptyin dustpans, shakin rags. They’re on cleanup duty. Four girls in all. But no sign of copper-top Nell.

  Nero caws insults. The ducks quack their fury.

  We’re wastin time, says Webb. He lowers the looker, shakin his head. Let’s check out them sheds an barns.

  Hang on, I says. A girl with blaze-red hair’s jest appeared in the doorway of the bunkhouse.

  Webb whips the looker onto her. Yes! he hisses. It’s her!

  She flings out the dirt from her dustpan. With a glance at the duckpond commotion she’s gone in a swish of long red plait.

  Webb grabs my arm, his face fired with joy. That’s my Nell! It’s her! She’s here!

  Emmi! Nell laughed. You should see this crow! It’s out there drivin the ducks crazy.

  The other four girls carried on with their chores. Wiping down the bunks, scrubbing the floor on their hands and knees. Emmi stared at Nell, her heart pounding. A crow. Could it be? She dropped her broom with a clatter and ran to the door. Yes! It was. It was Nero. Circling above the ducks, teasing them. She had to stop herself yelling his name.

  She stepped barefoot into the mud and stared at the woods the other side of the fence. Was Saba in there? The trees grew too thick and it was too far to see. But she had other ways of knowing. She crouched briefly, her eyes closed, and pressed her hands through the mud to solid ground. She was already used to the earthsong of this place. A low sad murmur. Always the same, day and night. Now her hands and feet brought another song to her. The same one she’d followed from Starlight Lanes. They were here. Saba and Lugh and Tommo. The song was coming from the woods.

  This was it. Jest like Saba had promised. This was the big gawdamn rumble. And she was ready. She was ready to move.

  We draw back a bit an talk in whispers. Nell’s inside. That’s the first step. I’d feared Webb might be the excitable sort, that I’d hafta rein him in, but it turns out he’s steady. An he claims his Nell’s steady too. I hope so. She’ll need to be.

  Lugh starts tellin us this plan he’s cooked up. It’s way too complicated an won’t ever work. But I keep my mouth shut. Let him have his say. It’ll gimme some time to think this through. I glance at Nero, who’s jest lofted into the branches above. He’s so well trained as a messenger, he might be the key. Meantime, I’ll keep my eye on what’s happenin. You never know what lucky chance might arise. I train the looker on the yard.

  I catch the last flash of another girl, as she disappears back inside the bunkhouse. By her size it’s one we ain’t seen before. That’s four girls, plus Nell, an now this one makes six.

  Emmi ran back inside and scrambled onto her bunk.

  As a couple of the girls rushed to mop the tracks of mud, scolding her in low, furious voices, Nell said, Emmi? What is it? What’s up?

  By now she’d pulled the wire cutter from the gap next to the wall. She jumped to the floor. Listen, she said. Listen! There ain’t much time! The girls fell silent and stared at her. At the cutters she held in her hand.

  You stole that? said Frankie.

  What do I care fer stealin? she said. My real name’s Emmi of the Free Hawks. I defeated the Tonton at Resurrection an Hopetown. My sister’s the mighty warrior they call the Angel of Death. She’s here, right now, in the woods with our fighters. They’re gonna take you back to yer families. An I’m gonna git you outta here. She held the cutter high. We’re gonna escape through the fence.

  I know! said Nell. The buckets! We’ll pretend to weed. She seized the nearest one and dumped out the water. Here! She shoved it at Bly, who was standing there, open mouthed. Well, are you comin? she said.

  Yes, said Bly.

  Me too! Frankie jumped to her feet and emptied her bucket.

  The Angel of Death! Lin clutched her scrub brush to her chest. Only just eight and timid to the bone, she’d do whatever her friend Runa did.

  Don’t be afeared, she won’t hurt you, said Emmi.

  Runa dumped out their buckets, saying, Me an Lin’s comin too. But today ain’t a garden work day. Becuz of the mud. An there ain’t no weeds to weed.

  Now that the moment was here, Emmi was surprised at how cool she was. How calm. Just like Saba had told her to be. If we do it like we mean it, she said, nobody’ll say boo. They’ll think somebody else told us to weed. We walk there in a line, like normal. Nell goes first. Me last. When we git there, stick close together, right next to the fence. If there ain’t no weeds, pick the mud. Frankie, you keep watch. The rest of yuz, cover me while I cut the wire. Git ready to move fast when I tell you. If we do this quick an quiet, nobody’ll even know we’re gone. Don’t worry, I done loads of escapes. You ready?

  They all nodded. Their eyes were wide and excited and fearful.

  She put the cutter in her bucket. Let’s go, she said.

  As I sweep the looker back to the bunkhouse, Nell slips out the door, bucket in hand. A little line of girls follows behind her, different ages an sizes, all carryin buckets. They’re makin a straight line fer the garden patch in front of us. Webb’s right, his Nell’s got a determined look about her.

  Quick, this might be our chance, I says.

  They hustle to crouch beside me. Look! says Tommo. At the back there!

  I train the looker on the girl bringin up the rear. My heart stops. That stubborn chin. Them eyes. As big an blue as the sky.

  Emmi! says Lugh. What’s she doin here?

  Ohmigawd, I says.

  The penny drops. Why nobody could find her the other mornin at the Lanes. She was gone. She was already here.

  She followed us, I says. The other night. She’s bin here ever since. C’mon, we need to git closer.

  We dodge our way to a big bull pine that crowds the fence next to the garden patch. The girls squelch their way through the mud an kneel near the wire, close together. They start dumpin handfuls of wet dirt in their buckets. I stare, puzzled fer a moment. Then I realize. From a distance, it’ll look like they’re weedin. This ain’t no lucky chance. Em saw Nero. She’s got a plan.

  Lugh an Tommo huddle close to me. They know we’re here, I whisper. Lugh mouths it to Webb, behind the tree next to us. He nods.

  There’s one girl on watch. She keeps checkin to see if anybody’s takin notice of ’em. Nobody is. The ducks paddle on the pond. The junkbarn work party bashes an clatters a good seventy foot away. Emmi scuttles right to the fence. She takes a wire cutter from her bucket an starts snippin. She has to use both hands.

  Emmi, I hiss, it’s me! No, no, don’t look. Stop what yer doin an listen. What the hell’re you up to?

  She keeps on cuttin. Whaddya think? she says. I’m cuttin the fence so these can escape. That’s why yer here. I told ’em so.

  Emmi, stop! I says. We need more’n six to git out. D’you hear me, Em? Stop!

  She don’t pay no heed. On she snips. We still okay, Frankie? she says.

  All clear, says the girl on watch.

  While they’re talkin, Webb’s sayin to me, I dunno whatever else you got planned, but my girl’s comin outta there right now.

  Nell’s head shoots up. Pa, is that you?

  It is, but you hush, girl, he tells her. Play it steady.

  While they’re goin on, Lugh’s whisperin to me, I want Em outta there, Saba.

  Listen, I says, there’s more at stake than—

  Nearly done, says Emmi. I’m through. She throws down her cutter. Help pull it back, she tells Nell. Careful, mind yer fingers. They bend back a flap of wire. She’s cut a hole big enough fer a child to slip through. Go, Nell, quick!

  Then it’s all happenin. All at once. All too fast.

  As Nell bellies through the fence an Webb grabs her into his arms, Em’s sayin, Now you, Bly, an the blonde girl’s wriggled through the hole an Tommo’s pullin her behind the tre
e with us.

  At that moment Frankie, the girl on watch, says, Emmi! He seen us! He’s comin!

  A boy workin on the barn’s noticed what’s happenin here. He pelts towards the girls as fast as he can. Judgin by his speed, he aims to join ’em, not to stop ’em. The man in charge shouts, Where you goin? Git back here!

  Other kids workin on the barn start to run this way.

  Suddenly the man twigs. There’s kids escapin through the fence. Jest as he opens his mouth to yell, Lugh pulls Tommo from behind the tree. Lugh raises his arm an shouts, It’s okay! We got ’em!

  The man sees what he thinks is two Tonton. They seem control of the trouble. He stops dead, not knowin what to do.

  Meanwhile, Emmi’s goin, Lin! Runa! Come on!

  The littlest girl’s froze to the spot. I cain’t! she says. They’ll catch us! They’ll beat me! She takes off, back towards the bunkhouse. Lin! her friend cries an races after her.

  Em’s sayin, Frankie! Quick! An Frankie’s scramblin towards the fence an crawlin through. By now, the barn boy’s scant feet away an Em’s callin to him, Hurry!

  Emmi, come through, that’s enough, says Lugh.

  But she’s wavin the other barn kids on. Faster! she hisses. C’mon!

  The barn man’s sniffed a big rat. He’s yellin fer help. Runnin fer help.

  Go! I tell Webb an Tommo. We’ll see you back at the Lanes.

  Webb lights out fer the dell where we left the horses. Nell an Frankie stick close on his heels. Tommo grabs my arm. Emmi! he says.

  He’s grabbed me with our hands high, in front of our faces. A thin silver band circles his left wrist. It’s got marks etched into it. Jest like DeMalo’s bracelet. I look at Tommo dumbly. Why is he wearin it? How’d he come by it?

  Saba! He shakes me. What about Em?

  We’ll git her out, I says. Lead the rest of ’em to the Lanes. Take the girl. We’re right behind you.

  Then he’s runnin fer the horses, pullin the blonde girl by the hand.

  An Lugh’s sayin, Emmi! Now! but she’s urgin the kids from the barn through the fence. They race off to scatter to the woods an beyond. Five, six, seven of ’em.