The caretaker bowed her head. Jelena recoiled from her. She said nothing, although she disagreed with the caretaker. She didn’t think the tribe had done everything as perfectly as possible, but she was — she had to admit it — frightened to think of the world the makers had intended. She didn’t know why the thought should have frightened her so. The makers loved them. That was why they’d saved them. But she couldn’t help but feel the world the makers intended would have been even more restricted and confined. She didn’t dare utter this doubt. Another doubt caught at her heart and it made her take a step away from the caretaker. How could anyone, even the caretaker, imagine what kind of world the makers had intended?
The caretaker raised her head and asked, “So why are you here, child?”
“Oh. Yes.” Jelena pulled herself together with an effort. “Michael had something in his hand when we came for Rodrigo and he thinks he left it here. Dropped it or left it on the pallet.”
“We clean up in here after every newbirth,” the caretaker said. “I would have seen it. I don’t remember anything out of place. What was it?”
That was a very good question. “It was just a small — a very small — uh — a vial. A vial of essential oil, which as you know Michael uses in his work. Very rare, and he misses it sorely.” Jelena knew the caretaker hadn’t been to a meeting in years; she wouldn’t know what Michael did or didn’t do and even if she knew Jelena was no longer under his protection, it wouldn’t surprise the caretaker that an unawakened had been sent on an errand like this.
The caretaker shook her head. “No, dear, I don’t recall seeing anything of that sort.”
“Perhaps it rolled under one of the cases?” Jelena suggested, torn between being proud of her facility at invention and horrified of it. “May I look? Ah, here’s where Rodrigo was newlyborn.” Jelena approached the space where Rodrigo’s glass womb had rested. It was gone, an empty pocket of space there instead.
The caretaker saw her glance. “Oh, we give them to the mechanic. We don’t have any need for them, after, and he can always find a use for the glass.”
“Yes, of course,” Jelena murmured, the secret of the invention of glass now revealed in all its homely glory. She wondered what the mechanic would do when the supply of glass cubes finally ended. She suppressed a shudder at the sight of those cubes stretching endlessly back into the cave; that problem would not have to be faced any time soon.
Dropping to her hands and knees, Jelena groped on the steel floor as if she were looking for a small vial. The lengths she went to in order to make her fabrication seem true. She should be ashamed. After a while, she got to her feet and shook her head. “Michael will be so disappointed. I can’t think where else it might be.” Scanning the cave, she almost believed in the missing vial.
“Really, I’ve seen nothing like that since you were here. Why did it take him so long to realize it was missing?” the caretaker asked.
“It’s only used rarely.” Jelena resisted the urge to embroider that simple statement. “I wonder if he can make a substitute. Do you know,” she asked innocently, “if birch and aconite grow to the north here?”
The caretaker glanced at her, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “It’s all plains to the north. So they say. Some wildflowers, of course, sunflower and such, but trees don’t grow on the plains.”
“I was just curious. I’ve never have been beyond the fence. The gardener has tried to cultivate aconite but apparently it’s difficult and we just don’t find enough growing wild around here.”
“Greta?” a voice called. Jelena and the caretaker looked up to see the runner, who had pulled open the steel door to find them. “Greta, I’ve got the jugs of wine. Where do you want me to put them?”
“Yes, dear, hold on, I’m coming,” the caretaker said, throwing a tight smile in Jelena’s direction. She moved swiftly to the door, taking the runner’s elbow and moving him down the passageway. The door clanged shut behind them. Jelena supposed she might develop a fondness for wine herself if she had to stay cooped up among all these saved, motionless bodies. As she turned away to follow the caretaker from the room, her glance fell on the cabinet she’d seen the caretaker open when she’d been here with Michael at Rodrigo’s newbirth. The cabinet had been stocked with useful goods — goods that would serve her and the others well on their journey, and which wouldn’t be missed right away if she borrowed them.
Stole them, she amended. She might have a hitherto unrecognized facility for lying but she wasn’t going to start lying to herself.
She slipped over to the cabinet and opened the door. On the inside panel of the door, she noticed strange designs she had never seen before, one large rectangle with an “X” in the center of it, plus symbols she didn’t recognize dotting the surface of the rectangle. She wondered what it might mean. The symbols looked nothing like the ones she had sewn into her curtains in the quarters she’d shared with Michael. What could they mean? She’d never learned the meaning of the symbols on her curtains, either, though she and Michael had both hoped when she awakened she’d know. They had never spoken the thought aloud, but she knew both of them hoped she would be the teacher.
Jerking her mind away from that dangerous line of thought, she turned to see what was on the shelves of the cabinet.
She unfolded one of the blankets and spread it on the floor beneath the cabinet, then piled more folded blankets on top of it. Her scrambling hands came in contact with a hinged metal case. Unclasping it, she looked inside to see medical supplies — basics like gauze and sticky ribbon, items that might come in useful where she and William and Matilda were going. Wherever they were going. She left the bowls and trays behind; they must take only the essentials.
She shut the cabinet door, tied the blanket into a pack, tossed it over her shoulder, then picked up the metal case and tucked it under her arm. She walked to the steel door, set the case on the floor and eased the door open. Seeing no one in the passageway, she hurried out of the room, picking up the steel case as she left and using her foot to slow the motion of the steel door so it wouldn’t clang shut behind her. Then she crept slowly down the passageway, moving as quietly as she could so that she could hear Greta and the runner if they returned. They did not.
Breaking free of the cave entrance, she ran until she was no longer in sight of the cave. She breathed deeply, feeling as if she’d been running for miles. She kept expecting to hear the caretaker or the runner shout at her and set off in pursuit, but neither appeared. Perhaps the presence of the wine accounted for their disinterest in seeing what had become of her.
Nerves made her hands sweat and her breath come in harsh gasps, but she made it back to the rock fall with her treasures. No one stopped her.
Matilda and William seemed tensely watchful as she approached. Jelena could see the relief in both sets of eyes when they recognized her.
“Hello,” she said more cheerfully than she felt — much more cheerfully, considering she didn’t feel cheerful at all. “I found some supplies for us.” She hefted the bundle before loading it onto Horse. “And I found out that we’re headed in the right direction. Plains to the north, just as I thought. We’ll have to be careful, though, there’s not a lot of shelter on the plains. We’ll need to decide what we’re going to do about staying warm and dry come winter.”
She didn’t remind them that winter wasn’t far off. They should have left in the spring if they were going to leave; they should have laid in supplies, planned a route. They could recognize the obstacles and turn back now, but they weren’t going to. Freezing to death on the prairie had to be an improvement over throwing yourself to the wolves or living a life of unremitting drudgery with no hope of redemption. They could make up their own rules, Jelena thought. Maybe out there, on the prairie, it was the unawakened who had souls.
William spoke up. “We could find a home.”
“Yes,�
� Jelena said, so as not to discourage him. She’d wanted him and Matilda to discuss their plans together, not rely completely on her to make all of the decisions about their future.
“A home,” he repeated. “We could decide how we want to live.”
Jelena was startled that his thoughts so matched her own. She’d thought she was the only one who could envision a different way of life, who questioned the elders and wondered if there weren’t better ways of doing things.
“Yes.”
“I can read the weather,” William said simply.
“Yes, that’s handy,” Jelena said, not quite sure where he was leading.
“I mean I can tell when a storm is coming on, and when you need to keep the animals out of it. I know when the weather is going to turn cold and when it’s going to snow.”
“And how much it’s going to snow,” Matilda added proudly, looking at William with shining eyes.
“And I know how to read the night sky,” he said. “I know how the stars change with the season. I reckon I can always find my way home again.”
“Yes,” Jelena said.
“And I can shoe a horse, not just clean up after him,” he added sullenly, as if she had expressed skepticism. “And I can repair a leather bridle, or a saddle, you just try me.”
“Of course,” Jelena said gently. “I can sew, and I’ve learned how to cook, and I can raise … wolves.”
Matilda nodded eagerly. “And I … I can keep the time, and I can soothe the upset, and I know how to read the tea leaves. The seer she taught me,” she added defiantly; then: “She didn’t realize I was learning, I guess. But I watched her, and I learned how to do what she does. And … and I can make a stout pair of boots.”
This time William nodded enthusiastically. “That’s right. Many’s the time she’s resoled a pair of boots for me when there’s not enough left over after the awakened have been shod. And she has taken a piece from this one and a bit from that one and made a new pair, good as new.”
“Well, then,” Jelena said. “It sounds as if we have a lot to offer each other.”
“Ay,” William said. “More than they would ever allow.”
Matilda gave Jelena a frightened glance. “He says that, but I tell him, they’re only abiding by the plans the makers made. It’s not right to set yourself against the makers, is it?”
“What do you care?” William said. “You ain’t got a soul, woman. Least, according to them. The makers won’t be judging you anyway, you have no hope of reaching enlightenment.”
“I think,” Jelena said, sensing that the two of them had had this discussion more than once before, “that we can’t know what the makers planned, and the best thing to do, is to use all of our knowledge wisely. To take care of ourselves and the ones we love.”
“That’s well spoken, Jelena, that is,” William said. Matilda didn’t look convinced, but she was here, wasn’t she, and didn’t that suggest she wasn’t too worried about the makers’ plans?
Jelena patted their shoulders and went to check on Horse and the wolves. Horse was patiently standing where she’d pegged him, swatting flies with his tail. The wolves were nowhere in sight. She stood still for a moment, letting them catch her scent. They came bursting out of the copse of trees, launching themselves at her, lapping at her face, twining around her ankles. She laughed and submitted to their caresses, then made them behave.
“Down,” she said, smiling. “Sit.” She watched as each wolf settled on its haunches, golden brown eyes watching her closely. “Good wolves,” she crooned. “Good, good girls. Good, good boys.” She stroked each wolf on the throat; they lifted their muzzles to her touch, enjoying it. “Go on, now,” she said. “Go on. Leave me be.”
As a group, the wolves padded softly to the spot where Horse was pegged. He nickered and took a step away from them. Jelena could practically see Topaz smile — Topaz was the ringleader, her leg fully healed with only a thin scar to show for her adventure with the sawtooth trap in the compost pile. Garnet, the alpha male, was her partner in adventure but wasn’t quite as inquisitive or — Jelena had to admit it — as obnoxious as the female. The wolves circled Horse a bit, then stretched out languidly on the grass next to him, basking in the late afternoon sun.
Horse rolled his eyes at them and stamped his feet. Ignoring him — or not actually ignoring him, pretending to ignore him — they curled into little balls, noses tucked into tails, eyes slitted, ears gently pricked. The light snooze of a timber wolf in unfamiliar territory. Jelena wagered they knew full well their proximity made the horse nervous and they were having a private laugh over it.
Jelena stroked each of the wolves as they lay there, running her fingers through their silky hair, feeling the contented deep breaths they took. Topaz rolled over for a good tummy scratching, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. Then Jelena went back to rejoin the William and Matilda. Twilight would soon be upon them and the others — Tanner and Geoff and Natasha — would join them and they could be on their way.
The sun flared purple and orange in the western sky when Jelena first became aware of the sound of movement. As she stepped out from the shelter of the rock fall, her shoulders tensed. What if the elders had learned of their escape and knew their rendezvous point? But who would come after them? Why? She had taken the bay but the elders wouldn’t risk the riders just to get the horse back. And certainly not to get Jelena and William and Matilda back. The elders thought they were doing Jelena and William and Matilda and the others like them a service. No, whatever was out there wasn’t anyone who wanted them back.
The sound of feet moving quietly over rock came to her. She could make out dim shapes, roughly human-size but … there seemed to be more than the promised three of them. Her stomach plunged. Oh, by all that was good … what had she started?
A bulky figure detached himself from the group and came forward. “Tanner,” Jelena said, and patted his shoulder, gesturing toward the rock fall to where Matilda and William awaited him. “Geoff and Tasha,” she greeted. Tasha stumbled forward and hugged Jelena. The embrace startled her. She hadn’t known the woman well, didn’t know where the sudden affection had come from. Geoff and Natasha moved silently to the rock fall, greeted the others without a sound.
“Greco?” she said, her voice pitched higher than she meant. Who had invited the mad one?
“Jelena,” he breathed, and embraced her also, clinging to her as if she were his mother or his sister and he hadn’t expected to see her again.
“Move along there, friend,” a booming voice said.
“Derek?” Jelena faltered. “Derek? But … you’re awakened. You’ve found your calling,” she explained, as if he might have forgotten. “What are you doing here? Do you mean to — ”
“Jelena, darling,” he said, not troubling to keep his voice low, “I’m sick to death of forging tools and burning my damned hands every time I turn around. It may be that I was a smith in my pastself, but I’ll be damned if I can’t make a change in this life! I think,” he said grandly, “that I was meant to be an explorer.”
Jelena found that she had nothing to say. It hadn’t occurred to her that any of the awakened could be unhappy with their lot. It didn’t make sense. The whole world they had made was designed so that the awakened would be perfectly happy, perfectly useful. It was the Way. It was what the makers intended.
“What say you, Jelena?” the smith asked, unease in his voice. She realized with a start that she was the leader — that all of them thought she was the leader, when really, she had just given in to impulse.
“Welcome, Derek,” she said, and showed him the way to the rock fall.
The two remaining figures stood patiently, waiting her approval. “Caterina?” Jelena said, her voice shaking. The child was but eight years old, and the days ahead grueling. She would have to send Cat back. She glanced at the wo
man holding Cat’s hand.
“Sarah,” she whispered. Oh, by all that’s good. Sarah with the river blindness. How could they possibly have a child and a blind woman along? It wasn’t right, they shouldn’t be here, there were too many dangers. Jelena didn’t even have a plan. She didn’t know where she was going to lead these people; they couldn’t trust her with the young and the vulnerable like this.
“I can weave,” Sarah said firmly, sensing Jelena’s doubt. “I can plant a straight furrow, and harvest the crop. I can say when a man’s lying and when he tells truth.”
“That will certainly be handy,” Jelena said.
“I can fetch and carry,” Cat said proudly, in imitation of her mother’s recitation. “I can guide my mother when she needs, and plant the same straight furrow and harvest the crop. And … I can learn whatever you will teach me.”
“Ay,” Jelena said. It remained to be seen if they would have anything to teach. “We have a long walk ahead of us tonight.”
“The moon is full.”
“That will be of aid.”
“The wolves may come out,” Sarah warned.
“I hate to tell you this, Sarah,” Jelena said gently, “but the wolves are already abroad.”
Chapter Fifteen
Michael didn’t expect Jelena to come to the morning meal. He knew — how could he not? — that she resented his announced partnership with Danielle. Not that she wanted him for herself, just that — well, she was unawakened and would never participate in these rites. He still believed that she might have awakened, if she’d been patient a little longer. He had wanted her to be patient just a little longer.
He had felt it, but she hadn’t believed him, hadn’t trusted him. Him, her protector. Now she would never be awakened. The loss was wrenching to him, as if someone close to him had gone beyond self. Only in some ways worse because she was lost in more than a material sense. Had she gone beyond, he might entertain hopes of seeing her one day again … when all were enlightened. But not now, not this way.
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