Widdershins

by Charles de de Lint

  “It didn’t play out that way,” he said. “And we’re still good, right?”

  “We’re still good. I just wish you didn’t have to play hero all the time.”

  “It’s nothing I choose.”

  “And would you still love him if he was any different?” Jack asked.

  Cassie punched him in the shoulder. “No. That’s not it and you know it. I just worry.”

  “You and me both, Cassie.”

  Joe looked from one to the other.

  “If you two are done,” he said, “maybe we can finish this and put it all behind us.”

  He reached for Cassie’s hand.

  “You want in on this?” he asked.

  She smiled. “Sure. I’ve never seen a bogan before.”

  “Not much to see,” Jack told her. “Ugly little buggers who—”

  He broke when they stepped away, crossing back into the otherworld, and hurried along after them.

  “A little warning would be nice,” he told Joe when they arrived at the lakeshore.

  He stopped and looked around. It was dusk back in Raven’s world, but here, night had already fallen. A three-quarter moon sat in the sky above cliffs topped with tall pine and spruce. The moonlight gleamed on the lake water and made the sandy shore seem almost white.

  “Hey, I know this place,” he said. “This is where the cerva held Anwatan’s blessing ceremony.”

  Joe gave him a curious look. “I don’t remember you telling me you attended that.”

  “I didn’t. I was watching from above.” He indicated the cliffs. “It’s where I ran into Grey.”

  Joe nodded. “Well, the kid should be around here somewhere. Let’s start at the base of the cliffs, there in the middle, and work our way along both sides to see if we can pick up a scent.”

  “Is it part of your helping him to scare the crap out of the kid?” Cassie asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, what’s he going to think? He’s on the run from cousins, and here’s a couple of tough old canids trying to track him down.”

  “Wouldn’t hurt to give him a scare,” Jack said. “Might help him remember the kind of trouble you can get into if you’re not more careful about picking your friends.”

  But Joe was smiling.

  “I’m guessing you’ve got a better idea,” he said to Cassie.

  “Does he have a name?” she asked.

  “Rabedy Collins.”

  “What are you going to do with him anyway?” Jack asked.

  “He can take dog shape.”

  “Really? I didn’t know bogans could shapeshift.”

  Joe nodded. “Apparently Odawa was teaching them, but it only took with the kid.”

  “Well, he’s got that much in his favour, then.”

  Cassie had already walked away from them, heading for the cliffs, so the two of them caught up with her.

  “Give me a little space here,” she said.

  She walked on alone, softly calling the bogan’s name, a coaxing tone in her voice.

  After a few moments, a small shadow crept out from under an overhang and hesitantly approached her. The little black dog hung his head and had his tail tucked between his legs, but he closed the distance between them step by step.

  “I don’t like this,” Jack said, his voice pitched low. “We don’t know anything about that dog. How do we know he’s not putting on the submissive act? If he goes for her throat, there’s no way we can get to her in time.

  Joe lifted his arm when Jack started forward.

  “Cassie knows what she’s doing,” he said. “She doesn’t just read cards. She reads people, too.”

  Cassie had one knee down in the sand and her hand stretched out, palm down. The dog sniffed the back of her hand cautiously, then let her pat him.

  “You can come now,” she called over her shoulder.

  “They’re not going to hurt you,” Joe heard her tell the dog as they approached. “I know they look scary, but they’re here to help you.”

  “Yeah,” Joe said. “Anwatan sent us.”

  The dog’s head lifted at the sound of her name. Joe didn’t have to be part canid to read the hope in the dog’s eyes.

  “She’s gone on now,” he said.

  Beside him, Jack stood with his arms folded, studying the dog.

  “Let’s see what you really look like,” he said.

  I . . . I don’t think I should, sir, the dog said. Anwatan told me not to. It’s part of my . . . punishment, I think.

  “You don’t like being a dog?”

  I like it much more than being a bogan.

  “Well, we’re saying it’s okay,” Jack told him.

  The dog hesitated a moment, then a shiver ran across his skin, from tail to head, and a bogan crouched there in the sand on his hands and knees. He sat up, his neck drawn close to his shoulders as though expecting a blow.

  Jack continued to study him, then finally gave a slow nod.

  “Anwatan was right,” he said. “This kid’s not a killer.”

  Rabedy cleared his throat. “What . . . what are you going to do to me?”

  Joe sat on the sand beside Cassie.

  “What do you think we should do to you?” he asked.

  “You should punish me, sir.”

  Joe’s brows went up. “What for? Anwatan said you weren’t in on the kills for any of those hunts.”

  “But I was there. I didn’t try to stop them.”

  “Why not?”

  “I . . . was too scared.”

  Joe nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been there. Not a good feeling, is it, standing by when someone’s being hurt?”

  Rabedy’s eyes went wide. “You’ve been scared?”

  “Scared and stupid, just like you. And I didn’t always have being young for an excuse, either. But then a day came when I realized I was either going to have to stand up for what I believed in, or really be the useless piece of crap everybody thought I was—even if it meant getting hurt or worse. Let me tell you, I’ve never looked back since. I can still get scared, but doing what I know is the right thing always gives me enough courage to get through it.”

  Rabedy had a look of astonishment on his face. Beside him, even Cassie looked surprised. But Jack only nodded and answered their unspoken question when Joe wouldn’t.

  “You try being a half-breed,” he said, “trying to fit in with all the true-bloods. Some clans aren’t so open-minded as we are, and they can be hard on a mongrel kid.”

  Joe gave the bogan a feral grin that made the light in his eyes seem crazier than it normally did.

  “Everybody’s got teeth,” he said. “You just need to be willing to use them.”

  “I . . . I wish I’d stopped them, sir,” Rabedy said. “I should have.”

  Joe nodded. “Yeah. You should have. And now you have to carry the weight of not stepping up. But the memory of what you didn’t do can be the strength that lets you do the right thing, the next time you see somebody about to get hurt.”

  “I’ll try. But I don’t know that I’m brave enough.”

  “What you’re really saying is that you don’t think you’re strong enough. You don’t have confidence.”

  “I guess . . .”

  “Well, I’ve got a friend who’s going to teach you to believe in yourself. She’s got the biggest and truest heart of pretty much anybody I know, but the thing is, you’re going to have to do all of this in that dog shape of yours. She doesn’t have much fondness for five-fingered beings.”

  “I really do prefer the dog shape, sir.”

  “Joe.”

  Rabedy blinked with confusion. “Sir?”

  “Just call me Joe. When you say ‘sir’ I don’t know who you’re talking to.”

  “Yes, suh . . . Joe.”

  Joe smiled. He turned to Cassie.

  “You want to see where Honey lives?” he asked.

  “Even when she doesn’t like ‘five-fingered beings’?”

  “You’r
e cool. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Then, sure,” Cassie said. “But we’re not completely finished here.” She turned to Jack and asked, “Can you make us a cigarette?”

  Jack nodded. When he pulled tobacco and papers from his pocket and started to build the cigarette, Cassie returned her attention to Rabedy.

  “Do you know what this means?” she asked him. “Our sharing the sacred smoke?”

  The little bogan shook his head.

  “Three is sacred to fairy,” she said, “but among the cousins the sacred number is four, because there are four directions. When cousins share smoke, they are offering it to the spirits of the four directions, which ensures that no spirit is forgotten, and they are asking the spirits to make note of the bond of peace and friendship that the smoke represents. If that bond is broken, it makes the spirits angry.”

  “And you don’t want to see those old spirits angry,” Jack put in.

  “So . . . you want me to smoke with you?” Rabedy asked.

  Cassie and the two canids all nodded.

  The bogan couldn’t seem to believe this.

  “You would make a bond with me? But I’m just a useless bogan.”

  “You’re not,” Cassie said. “And we’re none of us special. I’m human, Joe’s a mongrel, and Jack . . . “ She smiled. “Well, Jack’s Jack. Individually, no one’s really special. It’s how we connect to each other that’s special. How we can make something good come of that. So the smoke binds that promise and reminds us that we’re not alone, even when we feel we are.”

  “I . . . I’m honoured,” Rabedy said.

  Jack responded for Joe, Cassie, and himself.

  “So are we,” he said.

  He lit the cigarette with that old Zippo of his. He offered smoke to the four directions, then passed the cigarette to Rabedy.

  It was closing in on midnight in the arroyo by Honey’s den, but her pups were still playing down in the riverbed. Among them was a new foster brother, a black dog that was a little clumsy but his barks were the most joyful.

  Cassie and Jack sat on stones close to the riverbed, tossing twigs for the pups, laughing to see the way they’d chase and have mock battles over the little lengths of wood. Higher up on the slope, Joe sat cross-legged in the dirt with Honey beside him.

  “Thanks for this,” Joe said.

  Honey shook her head. I would have done it anyway. He’s a Child of the Secret, just like Jilly and me.

  “Yeah, I kind of figured that was the case. There was too much unhappiness in him for it just to have been caused by these hunts he was forced to go on.”

  The Secret pushes us into ourselves, closing us off from the world. The hardest lesson we learn is that it doesn’t have to be that way.

  “Not an easy thing to trust in when you’ve had a lifetime to teach you otherwise.”

  No. It’s not easy, but it’s worth the effort. Unfortunately, we don’t learn that until after we’ve had the courage to reach out to accept the helping hand.

  They were quiet for a moment, watching the pups playing. When Joe sighed, Honey turned to him.

  What is it? she asked.

  “You know Jack was right when he said it’s not so bad to be a human from time to time. For one thing, it gives you another perspective.”

  Why should I seek that perspective?

  “It’s just good to have an understanding of the beings you interact with.”

  I don’t have any urge to understand humans, any more than I do the ground squirrels or other game I hunt.

  “You don’t hunt humans.

  She bared her teeth. No. But there are some for which I’d make an exception.

  “So there’s no other shape you’d like to try?”

  Her muzzle rose upwards. I think it would be . . . interesting to view the world from a bird’s view.

  The crow in Joe’s blood stirred at her words.

  “I wish I could teach you that shape,” he said, “but like I told you before, all I see in you is your canid blood.”

  And it is enough. It will be enough for my pups, so it will be enough for me.

  “I wish it could be different. I wish we could all see the world through whatever eyes our hearts fancy. We’re all so connected to each other, but most of us just can’t see it.”

  I won’t be convinced.

  Joe nodded. “Don’t mind me. When it’s unfinished business, I always find it hard to let a thing go.”

  It’s what makes you who you are.

  “I suppose. But tell me. What was it that made you change your mind about this? Back when we started off to look for Jilly, you seemed pretty interested in learning to wear another shape.”

  Jilly’s brother reminded me of everything I hate about that shape.

  “I thought it was something like that. But if you ever change your mind . . .”

  I’ll know who to ask for help.

  Joe nodded. But he thought that if that day ever did come, it was a long way from today.

  What’s going to happen to Odawa? Honey asked.

  Joe shrugged. “Damned if I know. He’ll probably be put down. They’re having a big meeting about it at dawn—the air and water clans.”

  You won’t be there?

  “I don’t have any interest in cousin politics, unless it impacts on those who can’t defend themselves, and we’re way beyond that now. The corbae and water cousins have it covered.”

  So, what will you do?

  Joe smiled. “Right now? I just want to collect my girl and take her home.”

  It’s good to have a home.

  “Tell me about it. I didn’t have one for so long, I thought I never would. But then it turned out I just needed someone to have a home with. Now it doesn’t matter where we stay—so long as Cassie’s there, I’m home.”

  That’s how it is for me with my pack and my pups.

  Joe nodded. “Jack might stick around for a few days—just to help you keep an eye on the new pup. I know,” he added before Honey could interrupt. “You can handle yourself and your family. But we feel responsible bringing him here. We just want to make sure he fits in and doesn’t try to hurt anybody.”

  Honey looked down the slope.

  I have a good feeling about Rabedy, she said. Anwatan was right to spare him, and you were right to bring him here. He has the potential to grow up strong and true.

  “That’s all we can ask of anyone, darling—you and me included.”

  He stood up and brushed the dirt from his jeans.

  You’ll be back? she asked.

  “Yeah, and I won’t be so long about it, either—that’s a promise. But you’ve got to promise me that the next time you get a hankering to walk in Raven’s world and hang around outside our building, you come up to the door and let us offer you some hospitality.”

  I think I can do that.

  Joe let a mock growl rise up in his chest.

  “You do that,” he said, “or I’ll know the reason why.”

  She bumped her head against his thigh.

  You’re such a tough lone wolf, she teased. How does Cassie ever put up with you?

  “With lots and lots of patience.”

  He started down the slope to join the others, Honey padding at his side, her laughter ringing in his mind.

  Grey

  The way Raven had talked about the air and water clans that were coming, I’m expecting a turnout of all kinds of different tribes of cousins, but when we get to the meeting field, the only air cousins are corbae. Oh, there’s a big representation of the water clans, fresh and salt water, but the only birds are crows and ravens. Jackdaws, rooks, and magpies—local ones, as well as a pair of our mottled Australian cousins. I spy a few jays, but they’re mostly blue and none of them are kin.

  We all come as five-fingered beings as a courtesy to the water clans who might have had trouble travelling here otherwise, and we’re now a couple hundred cousins gathered here on a peninsula not far from the city. The meeting field’s
a big expanse of flat rock, duned beach, and grasslands, surrounded by the lake on three sides and a forest on the remaining fourth.

  Dawn’s waking on the eastern horizon by the time everybody has gathered, and Raven’s people walk Odawa out into the middle of the big circle that’s formed. The trees behind us are black with crows and ravens and other blackbirds, sticking to their avian shapes. I wonder if the crow girls are among them, because I don’t see them on the meeting field.

  “You’ll never find them at something like this,” Chloë says when I ask her.

  I’m walking beside her, the two of us making up the last of Raven’s entourage.

  “Why not?” I ask.

  “It’s too depressing for them. I know they can be serious—deadly serious—but they try to avoid being so as much as possible.”

  I know just how they feel. I’ve never seen so many grim faces all in one place before, and it’s pretty obvious how this is going to go. But I feel I have to be here. I was there at the beginning, I owe it to my dead to be a witness at the end.

  “I’m with them on that,” I say.

  “I suppose,” Chloë says. “But we all have responsibilities to the greater good.”

  “Maybe theirs is to make the world seem a little less grim than it is. Or at least to remind us that it can be.”

  Chloë gives me a small smile. “Maybe it is.”

  Once everyone’s settled, there’s an immediate argument raised by the salmon clan, that this is a blood feud and so no one’s business but that of those involved. Waninin, the chief of the salmon clan, makes the point that if anyone should be on trial, it’s me, since I struck the first blow.

  I’m willing to take the judgment on that, but there are too many predators present for the argument to go unchallenged. Lazy Lightning, an orca from a pod near the shores of my home forests, stands to glare at Waninin with an unblinking gaze. He stands tall—taller than any of the buffalo clans—and his shoulders strain against the fabric of his shirt.

  “Since when does a hunt for food become a feud?” he demands. “We are predators. Or are you saying that we should forsake our natures?”

  “Cousins don’t hunt cousins.”

  “No,” Lazy Lightning agrees. “And that was not the case here, either. Odawa himself has admitted that Grey only blinded him because he thought he’d come upon a dead salmon, half frozen in a stream. There was no malicious intent upon Grey’s part. Odawa’s retribution—that’s an entirely different matter.”