The Interrogation of Ashala Wolf (The Tribe)

by Kwaymullina, Ambelin

  I peered at the tiny carved wooden figure. “Is that a bird?”

  “No,” she answered “It’s an angel.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “He looks like one.”

  “Who? The enforcer?” I examined the map more closely. The winged figure was all over it — the same carving, tied in again and again. “This is a shape you’re seeing in more than one future? That means it’s significant, right?”

  “Yes, and the shape of the angel — it’s the shape of a friend.”

  “He can’t possibly be a friend! Unless . . . maybe the angel isn’t him?”

  Georgie just looked at me, and I sighed. “Yeah, okay, I’ve never seen a real-life person with a face like that, either. Are you sure about the friend thing?”

  She shrugged. “It’s what I see. Except I don’t know what I don’t see.”

  Which meant that in all the futures she’d glimpsed, the angel was a friend. But she didn’t know if there were a whole lot of other futures she hadn’t seen, where the angel was an enemy. Georgie added, sounding frustrated, “And I don’t see lots, Ash. Because this map is about the detention center, and I’m pretty sure rhondarite is messing it up.” She pointed at big blank areas of the web, where there were only a few strands of vine and string. “You see, the futures of that place are basically the futures of everyone in it, and a lot of those people will be wearing rhondarite collars, which blocks my ability. So there are these massive gaps. . . .”

  “Yeah, I get it.” I stared glumly at the angel figure. “I’m not sure I know what to do about this. I’ll keep it in mind when I talk to him, though.”

  “I think,” she told me, “that you have to trust your heart, Ash.”

  “That’s not very —” I broke off, leaping backward as I spotted something gray and furry coming over the top of her shoulder. “You’ve got one on you!”

  She picked up the spider and put it on the wall. “It’s one of the small ones, Ash.” Which was to say, it was the size of a fist rather than a dinner plate. I deliberately didn’t watch where it went as it scurried away. I knew there’d be heaps of spiders crawling on the ceiling, but as long as I didn’t look up, I could pretend they weren’t there. “They know not to fall on me, don’t they? Or jump? Or come anywhere near me?”

  “They’re not that interested in you.”

  Yeah, she always said that. I could feel them all watching me out of their miniature spider eyes, and I knew that they knew I didn’t like them. I hunched my shoulders defensively as I headed back to Ember and the enforcer, making my way through the labyrinthine passages until I saw a dim glow in the distance. Even when fully charged, solar lamps aren’t super bright, but the ones we had were more than enough to light the cavern where we were holding our prisoner.

  Ember was cross-legged on the floor, facing the enforcer, who was sitting with his wrists and ankles bound and his back to the wall. His appearance had been startling enough in the daylight, when his eyes were closed. But in the soft lamplight, with his pale skin almost glowing and his eyes shining a bright impossible blue, I had to try very hard not to stare.

  Then he smiled, and I gave up trying.

  “Ashala Wolf. I am Justin Connor.”

  I shoved my hands into my pockets, doing my absolute best to glare at that extraordinary face as he continued. “I’m afraid I must tell you that someone in the Tribe is betraying you.”

  Ember choked, and I snapped, “They are not.”

  “The government knows about your pact with the saurs.”

  My gaze flew to Ember’s. She’d always thought there might be more to the rabbit killing than the random stupidity of a few enforcers, and it seemed like she’d been right.

  “If what you’re saying is true, then who is the traitor?” Ember demanded.

  “I don’t know yet.”

  She snorted. “Convenient.”

  He ignored her, addressing me instead. “I swear to you, I am not your enemy. I am an Illegal, too.”

  “You’re an enforcer!”

  His lips curved into another of those heart-stopping smiles. “Yes, I know.”

  Ember stood up. “If you’re an Illegal, prove it. What’s your ability?”

  “I can fly.” And with that, he rose above the ground — not far, but enough for us to see that he was hovering above the floor. Then he sank back down again, breathing heavily. “Of course,” he said, “it’s easier to do when my head isn’t hurting so much. Do I have you to thank for that, Ashala?”

  I didn’t answer, feeling so stunned by the revelations of the last few minutes that I was struggling to form thoughts, let alone words.

  Ember wasn’t as overcome as I was. “So you have an ability. That proves you’re an Illegal, but it doesn’t prove you’re not working for the government. You could be their spy.”

  He sighed. “You must have seen my tattoo when you tied my wrists. Do you think they’d allow an Illegal to wander free with a Citizenship mark? I am proof that the government is lying when they say no Illegal ever passes a Citizenship test. Also, why would I warn you that you have a traitor among you?”

  I lifted my chin. “Maybe we don’t. Maybe you’re trying to win our trust by deceiving us.”

  “Is that what you really believe, or is that what you want to believe?”

  I wanted to shout, Yes, it’s what I believe! Only I wasn’t sure. Ember wasn’t, either; I could tell by the way she’d lapsed into thoughtful silence. He glanced from one to the other of us and added, “I am willing to do whatever it takes to prove myself. I’ll undergo any test you like.”

  Ember smiled, and it wasn’t a very nice smile. “You might be very sorry you said that.” She turned to me. “Let’s talk.”

  We walked out of the cave, stood where we could still see our prisoner, and huddled together for a hushed conversation.

  “What do you think, Ash?”

  “I don’t know! Georgie believes he’s a friend. She’s seen an angel in one of her futures.”

  “A what?”

  “You know, like the statues in Gull City.”

  “Oh. Yes, I see the resemblance.”

  “She saw betrayal a few months ago, too,” I admitted.

  “You never told me that!”

  “I thought . . . I’m sorry, Em, but I thought it was you, with Jaz.”

  She looked crushed, and I said quickly, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.

  “No, it’s all right. Look, I can test this guy. Read his memories.”

  “Then he’ll understand what you’re capable of!”

  “I could always alter his memories afterward, take away the ones of what happened here.”

  “Didn’t you once tell me that taking memories when people don’t want to give them up can break their minds?” She was so obviously astonished, it was almost comical. “Sometimes I do pay attention, Em.”

  “We have to know why he’s here!”

  “And if he’s not a friend? What then?”

  She went quiet, then said, “We could — dispose of him.”

  “You mean kill him?”

  “It wouldn’t take much. Just a bite from one of the big spiders —”

  “Em! How can you even suggest that? What happened to changing the world without violence?”

  “I never meant we shouldn’t strike back when we’re under attack, and we are! Either from him or from a traitor. We’ve got to defend ourselves, or the whole Tribe could be lost.”

  I looked away. The mere idea of having to kill anyone made me feel like throwing up. If he’s a spy, and we let him go . . . Ember wasn’t wrong about the Tribe being in danger. All the lives I was responsible for — not only the Tribe, but the tuarts as well, and even the saurs — seemed to weigh down on me. It was as if I could feel the massive bulk of them all, pressing upon my inadequate shoulders. “We do have to find out if he’s telling the truth,” I acknowledged. “But we decide together what happens after that. Don’t go and hide things from me, l
ike with Jaz. Okay?”

  “I won’t, Ash.”

  We stepped back into the cave. Ember strode over to the enforcer and announced, “I have an ability that allows me to read other people’s memories. Are you still sure you want to be tested?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “An impressive power. Yes, I’m sure. Is it possible for you to show my memories to Ashala?”

  “To me? Why?”

  “Because,” he replied, staring right at me, “you are the reason I came here, Ashala Wolf.”

  I had no idea what to make of that statement, and I waited for Ember to tell him she couldn’t do it. She didn’t, and after a minute, I asked, “Em?”

  “It is possible,” she admitted. She moved closer to me and said softly, “In fact, it would make it easier if he wants you to have his memories, since his mind will give them up more easily. But when you experience someone else’s memories, Ash, you let things into your head that you can never get out again, maybe awful things. It could make a kind of . . . link . . . between you and him.”

  That didn’t sound good, and the truth was, I didn’t want to know any more about someone we might have to kill. Except it wasn’t fair to ask Ember to do things that I wouldn’t, especially not when I knew she’d do almost anything to protect me.

  I nodded at our prisoner. “All right, Justin Connor. I get your memories.”

  His eyes lit up, blazing with — triumph? Happiness? Ember hissed in my ear, “Ash! Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  She took a step back and studied my face. Whatever she saw there must have convinced her that I wasn’t going to change my mind, because she said, “Sit down, then, because this is going to take a while, and don’t interrupt.”

  I positioned myself on the floor, and she went to the far corner of the cave, where she grabbed a flask of water from the pile of basic supplies we’d assembled. I watched as she filled up a cup, picked up a stone from the floor, and dropped it into the water. Then she came over and knelt beside the enforcer. She pressed the cup into his hands and clasped her own hands over his. When she spoke, her voice had a soothing, steady rhythm to it that made me feel like falling asleep. “I need you to concentrate, Justin Connor. Look at the water in the cup. See the surface? How it reflects? Focus on what you want to show Ashala, the memories that demonstrate who you are. Imagine them reflected in the water.”

  The enforcer hunched over the cup, and the water began to move, sloshing against the sides. Then I realized it wasn’t the water; it was him, shaking. His skin grew paler, and his shivering more intense, until I could hear his teeth rattling together. Ember didn’t seem worried. She kept talking, repeating the same phrases, while the enforcer looked worse and worse. I started to get scared that something had gone wrong and was about to defy Ember and interrupt when he sagged against the wall. It seemed like he wouldn’t have been able to endure another second, and despite everything, I was glad it was over. But when Ember spoke again, I realized she wasn’t finished yet. “Good. Now I need you to imagine the memories flowing out of the water and into the stone.”

  I thought he wouldn’t — or couldn’t — do as she said. Eventually, though, he leaned forward. He didn’t shake so much this time, but he kept sliding sideways and then jolting back upright, as if he were keeping himself conscious by sheer force of will. All the while, Ember kept talking. “Every one of those memories is passing into the little stone, flowing in one by one until they’re all held safely inside the pebble, locked away. No one can reach them now unless they speak a special word that will let the memories out. Imagine the word that unlocks the stone.”

  On it went, Ember speaking and the enforcer staring at the water, until finally he slumped, gasping, “Done.”

  Ember took the cup from him and came over, holding it out to me. “You need to take out the stone.”

  I hesitated, glancing over at the enforcer. Is he even conscious?

  “Don’t worry — he’ll recover. The stone, Ash.”

  I fished out the pebble, feeling awed at what Ember had done. “You can put memories into water and stones?”

  “Sort of. My ability works on the mind. The water and the stones aren’t that important. They’re just devices, things for the mind to focus on.”

  “Oh. Um, what do I do now?”

  Ember put the cup on the floor and sat down beside me. “Hold the pebble, say the keyword — which you’ll need to ask him for — and you’ll have the memories.”

  I clasped my hand around the stone and turned my attention back to the enforcer, only to find that he was already watching the two of us. He seemed better, or at least not about to collapse.

  “So, enforcer, what do I say?”

  “The word you want is Ashala.”

  “Very funny.”

  “What makes you think I meant it as a joke?” And, astonishingly, he winked at me.

  Is he flirting with me? Uncomfortably aware that I was almost blushing, I focused on the stone, closing my eyes and saying, “Ashala.” I felt an odd buzzing sensation, one that seemed to travel from the stone all the way up my arm and into my head. Images started to form in my mind, and it was strange. Very strange.

  From somewhere, Ember’s voice said, “Don’t fight it, Ash.” So I tried to stop thinking and gave myself up to Justin Connor’s memories. . . .

  When I was seven, I knew my father didn’t love me.

  But I didn’t mind. There was simply no room in his heart for anyone but my mother. Besides, Mom told me a lot that she loved me, her little Connor, more than anyone. It was our secret, although sometimes, from the way Dad watched me, I thought that he knew it, too.

  It was Mom who insisted he take me away on the day the assessors came to Eldergull. “Go out with him on the boat,” she said. “I’ll have no son of mine near an assessor.” And because he could never refuse her anything, we went. We made a good catch, and he was happy — until we spotted the smoke billowing into the sky.

  The quake had been sudden and terrible, leaving almost the entire town in ruins. Dad feared, at first, that Mom was trapped in the rubble, like so many others. But when we reached the place where our house had been, we found that she was not. She lay in the street, out in the open air, with the sun on her face. She looked almost peaceful.

  She was dead.

  When I was ten, I was in danger of dying myself.

  Dad didn’t fish anymore. He drank instead. I’d learned to watch his moods, so that I could recognize when I was in danger. On this night, though, I’d been reading a book and was so lost in the words that I’d failed to notice his steady decline. Suddenly the book was torn from my hands, and he loomed over me with his fist in the air. His face was more twisted with rage than I’d ever seen it, and I thought, This time he really will kill me.

  I had seconds to act, and I did, saying quickly, “Don’t you want to get whoever killed Mom?”

  He roared, “You did, boy. If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve been there. I would have saved her.”

  It was a familiar accusation, and I knew better than to respond to it. Instead I said, “But it wasn’t a natural quake.”

  Dad swayed from side to side. “What do you mean, it wasn’t a natural quake?”

  It didn’t surprise me that he didn’t understand what I meant. It always seemed to take other people so much longer to comprehend the simplest things. I sometimes felt like the rest of the world must be moving through water to arrive so painfully slowly at obvious conclusions. Besides, I’d been putting together the pieces of this particular puzzle for a while now, and even I still didn’t have the whole of it.

  “There’s never been a quake like that in Eldergull,” I explained, “not before and not since. And Cary’s sister, Beth, was a Rumbler. She was being assessed that day.”

  My father lowered his fist, and I pressed my advantage. “Beth died in the quake, but no assessors were killed. So whoever made her lose control is still out there somewhere.”

  Dad sta
red at me as if he’d never seen me before. Then he staggered to the table, picked up the bottle that was sitting on it, and stumbled outside. I listened, with dawning hope, to the sound of alcohol being poured onto the ground. He lurched back in, steadied himself against the doorframe, and said, “Son, we have work to do.”

  When I was twelve, we finally discovered the name of Beth’s assessor.

  Dad sank into a chair, his thick arms thudding onto the small table where we ate our meals. “Talbot. Prime Talbot. No wonder it was so difficult to find him. That bastard’s come a long way in five years.” He eyed me speculatively, and said, “There’s nothing else to be done. You’ll have to become an enforcer.”

  I swallowed. “An enforcer?”

  “Talbot’s terrified of being assassinated by Illegals. They say he has three body doubles, and the only ones who get close to him are his enforcer guards. And to get into the Prime’s guards, you have to be the best and brightest. So that’s what you’ll be. My son, the greatest enforcer that ever was.”

  I looked at my father. He didn’t drink anymore. He didn’t eat much, either, or do anything, except plot revenge. But it was a big improvement over how he’d been, and I hadn’t yet given up on the dream of having a proper father someday. So I said, “Yes, Dad.”

  “Thing is,” my father rumbled, “you’ll have to learn to control that air-shifting ability of yours. There’ll be no room for mistakes if you’re to pass for a Citizen.” He rose out of his chair and barked, “Stand up, boy! Make this table and these chairs float for me.”

  I jumped to my feet and summoned my ability. It always amazed me when people talked of air as being still. Couldn’t they feel the way it was constantly moving, how it ebbed and flowed in currents, reacting to the movements of everything in it? I called to the air, speaking to it in my mind, letting it know what I needed done. The air answered, rushing up under the furniture until everything rose toward the ceiling.