Reach said the parents had died because their bodies were trying to change like a queen’s, but they were too old, not malleable enough. Shiv could have infant tribemates, but they would all go the way of Lyshus, becoming queens with the ability to connect with any tree. Shiv sat on a branch and swung him around in front of her. He perched happily on her knee, grinning his nose away and putting his face close to hers so they could breathe in each other’s scents.
She ruffled his green hair, loving him, but some other feeling wormed just below the surface.
Hatred.
She gasped, denying the thought as soon as she had it, but the feeling did not flee so easily. Indeed, it bloomed. What kind of future lay ahead for her?
She wanted to sink into the calm of her mother’s branches, to feel at one with her people, but she was apart from them now, a visiting queen. And they knew of the deaths. She sat among the branches alone except for her tribemate. Lyshus made her mother nervous, and so all drushka were nervous. Shiv could go among the humans. Simon and Cordelia would always make her welcome, but they were not drushka. They did not understand her feelings, and they were busy with their own troubles.
She wished she could let time flow backward to when Shi’a’na had gone to fight the Shi and left Shiv in Gale. She had three children to care for and plenty to distract her. Her time apart from Lyshus had solidified how dim her future was without him, and now it seemed dim with him, too. She would have to wander the swamp alone with the feel of him clogging her mind. They would be lucky if they were not killed within an afternoon.
Shiv stood and swung Lyshus around her back again. She could not sink into despair. The anger within her flared, trying to direct itself at Lyshus. She trampled it; he was still a child. He could not help what had happened to him. He could do nothing to change it. She would find a solution, and they would not be outcasts, and they would not be eaten.
Lucky for her, there was much to look at among her mother’s branches these days besides drushka. She ventured higher, to where a dangerous human was guarded by several drushka as well as the human Lydia, who did not mingle with other humans. Shi’a’na said that Lydia remained aboard the tree because the humans would want her to use her mind power, and she refused. Shiv wished her the strength to remain apart and yet be happy. Maybe watching the dangerous human gave her purpose.
And then there were the mothers. Most were comfortable among the tree; others were not. Shi’a’na had moved some of her branches close together to form something more like a human floor, and the mothers spent their time there in little cubbies that Shi’a’na crafted from her bark. Some had infants. Evan lived among them, though Reach often cared for him when Simon and Horace were busy. Others had the swollen bellies of impending human motherhood, and those complained very loudly.
Shiv slipped easily into their midst. Maybe this was where she should stay. She was not a mother, but maybe they would understand how she could delight in her tribemate one moment and wish to fling him from her the next.
Miriam, the mind-bender who had once saved Shiv, nodded to her. Shiv followed the human custom and nodded back, but Miriam had too few words. Shiv had had enough of quiet. She went instead to Mila, who often fed Evan. She held her own infant now as she spoke with one of the other mothers, a woman with red hair that was brighter than a drushka’s. She held an infant, too, and Shiv recognized her as one of Simon’s friends, the fire controller Victoria. As Shiv settled near them, Miriam came over, too, and Shiv grinned. Miriam was only fun when she and Victoria were together and could fight with their words.
“Shiv,” Mila said, “how’s your little one?”
“We both enjoy health. As do you, I see, or you would be much distressed.”
Victoria snorted, but Mila threw back her head and laughed. “It’s just a way to start conversation.”
Shiv sighed, happy conversation was started, at least. “I seek distraction. My future thoughts are too dire.”
“We heard about what happened,” Victoria said. “It must feel a bit like you’ll never have another child.”
Mila gave her an angry look, but Victoria had only spoken Shiv’s mind, at least how a human would understand it. “Ahya, but that is what I would be distracted from. Tell me tales between you and the rest.” She gestured toward the other mothers.
“Gossip, you mean.” Miriam inclined her head at Victoria. “If you’re looking for petty, look to her.”
“At least I have the good manners to talk behind people’s backs,” Victoria said. “I don’t insult anyone to their faces.” She sniffed. “Unless they deserve it.”
“You two are a mess,” Mila said.
They both grumbled something about why she chose to spend time with them.
“That’s easy,” Mila said. “You’re also the only ones who have popped.”
Shiv sucked her teeth, not understanding. “Popped?”
“Given birth,” Mila said. “I guess it’s mean of me, but I like talking to people who are at the same stage as I am, not terrified of the birth coming up.”
“Terrified?” Shiv asked. She had never seen a human birth, but if it involved popping in some way, no wonder the mothers were frightened. “But shawness Simon will see that they are well.”
“Being told a thing and knowing it are different,” Mila said.
Shiv repeated these words, tried to absorb their wisdom. Yes, someone could tell her that her future would be all right, that Lyshus would be all right, but they could not know. No one could know the future.
Except Lydia. Shiv went still, happiness blooming inside her. She had never seen the point of knowing the future until now.
The others began speaking again, but Shiv’s mind raced away. If Lydia could show her the future, Lyshus’s future, her fear could finally depart. Even if that future was that they would die soon, she could bear it. If the future showed them living long lives, she could bear it. If they lived, they would be content. No one could live for years with sadness hanging over them.
But Lydia did not want to use her power. Shiv could threaten, she supposed, but Lydia was used to dangerous humans. She might not be swayed by dangerous drushka. Pleading? Bargaining? Shiv could state her fears, but if Lydia refused, she would then be on her guard to another plea. As for bargaining, Shiv had nothing to give. She could have words with one of Lydia’s enemies. Or she could fight them if necessary. Perhaps Lydia wished to fight the dangerous human but feared to. If Reach would watch Lyshus, Shiv could do it for her. She did not relish killing a human, but when one death would put her future at ease?
She would find a way.
An argument broke out among the mothers who had not yet popped. Shiv turned toward it, as did the others. The argument rose in volume, then a crack echoed through the branches as one mother slapped another.
Shiv rose to her feet, craning her neck. One of the mothers with short blond hair held her hand to her cheek. Her brown eyes blazed as she glared at her attacker, a tall woman who wore a colorful scarf tied around her head. Both had the bellies, but the scarf woman’s belly was much larger.
“You…” The short-haired woman threw herself at the scarf-wearer while the others sought to keep them apart.
Miriam sneered. Victoria seemed amused. Mila passed her child to Victoria, who squawked at suddenly having two infants in her lap.
“Shiv, come help me,” Mila said.
“Ahya.” Shiv followed as Mila stalked toward the fighting mothers. She bade Lyshus drop from her back, and he did, padding silently behind her. Were they going to join the fray? She must be careful of the bellies. And she must not scratch. She tucked her claws into her palms, her excitement growing. First, she had a plan to see her future, and now she would have a wrestling match? It was a good day.
The mothers were still trying to hold the struggling combatants, but they seemed more protective of their bellies than the two fighters. Mila waded into their midst, and Shiv followed, sending a mental signal to Lyshus to sta
y outside the crowd.
“Hold her back!” Mila shouted, pointing at the woman with short hair. She took herself toward the scarf-wearer, putting her hands on the taller woman’s shoulders.
Shiv eased in between those holding the short-haired woman. Before any of them could react, she wrapped her long arms around the woman’s shoulders while whipping a leg around the woman’s knees and arching back on her other foot. The short-haired woman squawked at being so pinned.
Shiv rested her chin on the woman’s shoulder and spoke in her ear. “Submit, little mother, or I shall carry you to the ground.”
Shiv was both proud and disappointed when the short-haired woman went still. She trembled, and Shiv could practically smell her rage. “She slapped me!”
“Ahya, and you wish revenge, but Mila wishes you not to fight, and I agreed to help her.” Shiv sighed, the idea that she must help Mila shuddering through her. It felt similar as to when another human asked her assistance, and she had pledged it, a strange attachment to those she barely knew. She sent the errant thought to Shi’a’na, seeking a name for this feeling.
“It is being a queen, daughter,” Shi’a’na said in her mind. “The feeling that you must protect all who seek the safety of your branches. The humans do not know what they ask when they seek help from a queen, but we feel the need to protect them all the same. You will have to learn when to fight it where humans are concerned.”
Shiv sighed again as Mila reprimanded the scarf-wearing mother. Shiv held on to the short-haired one, not trusting her to keep still.
“Do you need assistance, daughter?” Shi’a’na asked, and Shiv felt drushka waiting in the branches, ready.
“No, Shi’a’na. This one is easier to hold than an infant hoshpi.” She felt her mother’s amusement, and the channel between them closed slightly, though Shiv felt her mother watching.
“Rest easy, little mother,” Shiv said aloud. “Revenge can take another form.”
This made the short-haired mother relax, and Shiv released her. When the mother nodded to her, smiling eagerly, Shiv nearly laughed, wondering how she would get her revenge. She could not kill the scarf-wearer, not with the drushka watching.
“Now,” Mila said as the crowd quieted. “What’s this nonsense about?”
“She slapped me!” the short-haired mother roared.
Mila held up a hand. “I know, Shana. I’m not blind.” She turned to the other. “Why did you slap her, Kara?”
“Mind your own business, Mila,” Kara said, ice in her voice.
Mila put her hands on her hips. “You’re obviously not equipped to handle this like civilized people, so it is my business, even if I have to be the only civilized one here. You’re upsetting the others, upsetting yourself, and you’re interfering with my calm!”
As if to echo her, one of the babies began to cry. Mila stabbed a finger in that direction. “And I know that sound is putting all of us on edge right this moment, so you better tell me what the fuck is happening, so I can deal with that, too!”
The volume and the human swear word seemed to shock all of them, though Kara’s lips pinched together until they turned white, and she did not speak.
“Shana was going on about the Storm Lord,” one of the others said. “And out of nowhere, Kara slapped her.”
“She should keep her filthy mouth shut,” Kara said, leaning toward Shana.
Shana leaned forward, too. “He is our god, Kara!”
“He seduced us, then left us, Shana! He was just some man.”
As they bickered, Shiv frowned, no longer wanting to stop the fight. This Shana still worshiped the man who had nearly destroyed her town? Who enslaved shawness Simon and attacked Shi’a’na? Shiv wanted Kara to destroy her.
“Whatever anyone thinks,” Mila yelled. “It’s over now!” When they quieted, she took a deep breath. “Whether you believe he’s dead or not, he’s gone. There’s no point talking about it and definitely no point arguing. Just keep to your corners.”
“We shouldn’t need to,” Miriam said softly as she joined the crowd. The rage in her voice carried more than any yell ever could. “We wouldn’t need to be in this tree if people like you could let go of that…coward.” She nearly spat the last word, her dark eyes locked on Shana. “Were you part of the scheme to kill Simon Lazlo? Did you help burn the temple with all of us inside? Did you help them rip me open and steal my child!”
Her voice rose and rose until the last word echoed through the branches. Everyone winced, and Shiv guessed Miriam was using her mind powers. Shana had gone pale, backing away and shaking her head. “No! I promise, Miriam. I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t. I just want…my baby’s father to be good.” Tears dribbled down her face.
Shiv stepped toward Miriam. No wrestling hold could keep her from using her power, but her telepathy could not affect a drushka. “Does she speak the truth?” Shiv asked.
With a blink, Miriam transferred her glare. “What?”
“Before you destroy her mind, see if she speaks the truth. Truly, Miriam, if she was one of the ones who stole your child, I will help you kill her.”
“Daughter,” Shi’a’na said in Shiv’s mind. “Take care with such a pledge.”
Shiv did not respond. This went beyond the feeling of a queen for one who sought her protection. If Shana had stolen a child, she had caused deep anguish. That had to be repaid.
As Shana babbled about how Miriam could look inside her mind and see if she was lying, Miriam let out a breath. Shiv could not read her expression, but she turned and stalked away, taking her child into the branches. Victoria hurried forward, returned Mila’s child, then followed Miriam.
The mothers broke into groups, some comforting Shana, and Shiv noted these to her mother. If they still worshiped the Storm Lord, they would need to be watched. Mila continued to speak with Kara, so Shiv gathered Lyshus and wandered away, her mind whirling. She would have to watch these mothers more; they provided a fine distraction, and perhaps she would uncover a new plot to venerate the Storm Lord.
First, though, she would speak to Lydia about her future.
* * *
Fajir didn’t think she could hate her nemesis any more, but every day when she woke, there was that smiling face, waiting, wanting something from her that neither of them seemed to understand.
Fajir had tried yelling, sneering, even pretending Nemesis wasn’t there, but after a week or more passed, her hatred cooled into frustration and then ambivalence. She asked what Nemesis wanted again and again, but the woman only said, “My name is Lydia,” then spoke of other things.
She must be desperately lonely. Samira had spent most of her time on the ground, and few humans seemed to want to live aboard this massive hunk of wood. Maybe Nemesis didn’t like speaking with the drushka, and she wouldn’t go to Gale, afraid of being forced to use her power. But with all that, it seemed as if Nemesis couldn’t stop talking, either.
Fantastic.
This morning, Fajir had stayed in her cubby, waiting for the chirpy sound of Nemesis’s voice to become so grating that Fajir had to emerge to tell her to shut up, but no sound came. Fajir had waited, but the morning wore on, and she didn’t like staying inside all day. At night, she could pretend her life was different, but with no deep shadows, she was reminded of all she had lost, including her freedom.
She climbed out. “Well, Nemesis—”
No one waited except the drushka who always hovered in the shadows, watching her. Fajir looked along the branch for the familiar dark red hair, the slight form, the smiling face, but she saw nothing.
She nodded to the nearest drushka. “Where is Nem…Lydia?”
The drushka spread their hands. Fajir didn’t know what that meant, but when no other answer was forthcoming, she walked a few steps away. She heard the drushka close in, a slithering sound as their skin rustled against the bark. Still, they made no other noise, didn’t speak, and she knew they would be on her if she took another step. She didn’t relish being tr
ussed up like solstice dinner again.
Fajir plunked down, an unforeseen cloud of despair engulfing her like a plunge into icy water. Now she truly had lost everything and everyone, abandoned by every person who had ever bothered to love or hate her. Even her nemesis had grown tired.
Through a gap in the branches, she saw hints of Gale below, a fall that could kill her. Would the drushka catch her? Leap after her as she plunged to her death? Perhaps the tree would catch her, but how agile could such thick, clumsy branches be?
And then…nothingness. There might be an afterlife with Halaan. Or maybe she would become as the stars, her thoughts just a winking light in the void of the night sky. Perhaps she would meet this Naos again, finally see what all the fuss was about.
Her legs twitched. From the corner of her eye, she tried to see the drushka. Since she’d sat, no doubt they’d relaxed. If she could get enough of a start, she could be over the branch and dead.
What would Halaan think of such an end; what would Nico think? Would he mourn?
She sneered at herself. She hadn’t risen among the ranks of the guard to ponder suicide like some teenager, imagining the pain on friends’ faces when they learned of her demise, wondering if they’d feel guilt for not treating her better. If she was going to fling herself to her death, she should do it for no other reason than that life had become tedious and unbearable without her sword in her hands and her enemies’ throats opened before her.
Stupid Nemesis. Why wasn’t she here to keep these thoughts from Fajir’s mind?
In their last conversation, Nemesis said the drushka had been upset for days because of some tragedy. Nemesis wanted to visit her drushkan friends, find out if there was anything she could do, prying into business that wasn’t hers. Perhaps she was speaking with this friend instead of distracting Fajir. Or maybe she’d seen the friend the night before. If Nemesis was lonely, maybe she’d stayed the whole night. Fajir hadn’t missed the wistful looks Lydia had directed at Samira and Mamet. Maybe she wanted more than just conversation.
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