by Moira Young
Of course, she says, there’s always a chance I could be wrong.
It took ages to git Emmi to lie down inside on Mercy’s cot, even though she was pretty much to sleep on her feet. Mercy’s laid on the red bench, her arms behind her head. Tracker’s stretched out nearby.
I sit by the fire. Poke at the embers with the toe of my boot.
Why didn’t Pa bring us here? I says. I keep my voice low, so’s Emmi don’t wake.
Mercy says, So things was bad at Silverlake.
Yeah, I says. An gittin worse all the time.
I asked him to come, she says. After Allis died. I might not be the most sociable person, but I’d never turn away a friend in need. There would of been room here for all of you. We could of rubbed along all right. But he wouldn’t hear of it. Told me he didn’t want my help.
I says, Lugh thinks he wouldn’t leave Silverlake because of Ma.
Mercy sighs. That’s partly true, she says. But there was more to it than that. He thought you’d be safe there. They both did.
Safe? I says. Safe from what?
Mercy says naught fer a moment, thinkin.
You know nuthin of the world, she says at last. It’s a hard place. A dangerous place. Your ma an pa knew somethin of it. Enough to make em settle so far out of the way at Silverlake. Not many passersby. No neighbors. Like here at Crosscreek.
I think about how hidden away Mercy is here. No trail from the trackway, no way of knowin where to turn off if you didn’t know about the windchimes high in the tree.
Are you … hidin from somebody, Mercy? I says.
I wouldn’t say hidin, she says. More like … keepin out of the way.
I frown. Outta the way of what? Is that why Pa kept us at Silverlake? To keep us outta the way?
He meant to, says Mercy. It didn’t turn out that way, though, did it?
Somethin in her voice, in the way she says it makes me go all still inside. I stand up, my fists clenched. D’you know somethin? I says. About who took Lugh?
I don’t know, she says. I …
Tell me!
She glances at the cabin where Emmi lies sleepin. Let’s walk, she says.
Tracker starts to git up. Mercy raises a hand. Stay boy, she says an he lays hisself back down with a sigh.
I follow her over the bridge an into the meadow. We keep to the creek bank an head on up the little valley. The moon lights us a silver path. The creek sparkles an murmurs over the stones. I breathe in the sharp, sweet air of the night.
Tell me what happened that day, Mercy says. Tell me everythin. Don’t leave anythin out, no matter if you think it’s important or not.
So I do. I tell her what happened that day. From Lugh an me goin to the landfill at dawn to Lugh shoutin at Pa an then the duststorm an the four horsemen showin up with Procter John.
Four of ’em, she says. Dressed how?
In long black robes, I says, with … like, heavy leather vests over top, an leather bands from their wrists to their elbows.
Body armor, she says. It sounds like the Tonton.
The … what? I says.
The Tonton, she says. They’re … well … they’re all kinds of things—couriers, spies, informers, bodyguards. Sometimes even executioners.
What? I says. I dunno what yer talkin about. How d’you know about these … Tonton?
Your ma an pa wasn’t always at Silverlake, Saba. An I wasn’t always here at Crosscreek. We came to know each other at a place called Hopetown.
I ain’t never heard of it, I says.
It’s a town, she says. If you’re lucky, a week’s hard walkin’ll get you there. That’s if you’re lucky. You have to cross Sandsea an it don’t welcome nobody.
Sandsea, I says. Pa used to tell us stories about it. The men … the Tonton … headed across there with Lugh. Their prints turned north off the trackway. D’you think they took him to Hopetown?
They might have done, she says. Hopetown’s where the scum of the earth wash up. Every robber, every cheat, every lowlife who’d stab you for lookin at him the wrong way … they all find their way there eventually. It’s run by bad people for their own ends. An they got the Tonton to keep all the scum in check. They control the place with violence an somethin called chaal.
That’s them leafs Procter John used to chew, I says. Pa told us never to touch it.
He was right, she says. Chaal slows you down. Makes you think you’re smart when you ain’t. Too much of it an you get all hopped up, go wild. Allis an Willem an me, we weren’t there for long. We saw what the place was like an got outta there before it could suck us under. We got as far away as we could. We never wanted to hear of chaal or Hopetown again.
But why would the … Tonton take Lugh? I says.
Tell me more about that day, she says.
They came lookin fer him, I says. One of ’em said to Procter John, “Is this him? Is he the one born at midwinter?” Then they asked Lugh the same thing an they checked that he was eighteen. Procter John says to ’em, “I told you he was the right one.” So … they knew all about Lugh. They came to find him.
Mercy don’t say naught. Jest stares up at the night sky.
But how could they know about him? I says. An what’s so important about him bein midwinter born? We’re twins. Why didn’t they take me too?
I don’t know, she says. But let’s think it through.
We’re both quiet fer a bit. Then she says, Maybe they didn’t want a girl. Maybe they wanted a boy. A boy born at midwinter eighteen year ago.
But why? I says. An how did they know where to find him? Like you said, Silverlake’s nowhere. Besides you an us, nobody’s ever bin there essept the rag man an Procter John. Pa told us so.
Your father lied, says Mercy.
Pa lied? I says.
Maybe that ain’t fair, she says. Maybe lied’s the wrong word. Maybe he just … didn’t remember.
All right, I says. So?
You know I was there when your ma birthed you an Lugh.
Uh huh, I says.
Well … I wasn’t th’only one.
Somebody else was there? Who?
A man, she says. A stranger. He stopped at Silverlake, two days before you was born. Didn’t say much. Didn’t say where he was from or where he was headed. An he sure didn’t have nuthin. He was half-starved, with barely even a shirt on his back. Said his name was Trask, but who knows if that was true? Willem was wary of him, but he seemed harmless enough so they fed him an even gave him some of Willem’s old clothes.
An he was there when we was born, I says.
Not you, she says. He’d left by then. You was born two hours after Lugh, remember. It was odd. There was Lugh, yellin an kickin to let us know he’d arrived in the world, an right away, Trask got all excited. He kept sayin a boy born at midwinter’s a rare thing, a wonderful thing. An he went on repeatin it. Like it was important somehow. Then, when I looked for him a little while later, he was gone. Didn’t even say goodbye. Funny, but I’d forgot about him till now.
Why didn’t Pa tell us? I says.
Maybe he forgot, she says, like me. It didn’t seem terribly important. We thought he was just some crazy travelin man.
So d’you think Trask’s one of the men who took Lugh? I says. One of the Tonton?
Oh no, he’d be too old. The Tonton are men in their prime. Trask must of had at least forty year on him an that was eighteen year ago.
He must of told somebody else about Lugh, I says.
It seems that way, she says. What about your neighbor?
Procter John? I frown. I got somethin dancin at the edges of my mind, somethin I cain’t quite git hold of. Then, Now I remember! I says. He said somethin strange … he said to the men, I should know how old he is, I bin keepin a eye on him all this time like you told me to.
Mercy lets out a long breath. A spy, she says. The Tonton had him watchin over Lugh. Probly kept him in line with chaal an threats.
So Trask must of told the Tonton, I says. But I don
’t unnerstand why it had to be Lugh they took. Why they waited till he was eighteen.
I don’t understand it myself, she says. But if you find that out, you may well find your brother.
Dawn’s breakin as I step outside the cabin.
I wish you’d let me give you more, says Mercy. A bit of jerky an dried yam ain’t gonna last you longer’n a few days.
Yer stores ain’t ezzackly overflowin, I says. An, thanks to us, you got two mouths to feed now.
I’ll take care of the child just fine, she says.
An I’ll take care of myself, I says. I got plenty of water. As fer the rest—I pat my bow—I got this.
If you’re sure, she says.
Don’t worry.
Mercy puts her arm around Emmi. What say we walk Saba across the meadow? See her on her way?
Emmi shrugs. Picks at her peg doll’s dress. If you like, she says.
I know I ain’t Em’s favorite person, leavin her here with Mercy, but at least she don’t seem so hostile today. Any road, she’ll git used to it soon enough. An she’ll be safe here with Mercy an Tracker. Might even have a bit of fun fer once, ridin the pony an splashin around in the creek. A child oughta have a bit of fun.
They walk me across the bridge. Nero flies on ahead, chased by Tracker. The long meadow grass swishes aginst our legs.
I stop. I turn back. Take a last look at this peaceful green valley with its clear water an sweet air. My chest’s gone all tight. Tears spring to my eyes. I cain’t do it. I won’t be able to find him. I cain’t do it alone.
Saba? Mercy touches me gently on the arm.
I suck in a couple of deep breaths. I curse my own weakness. Swipe at my eyes. Lugh’s countin on me. Only me.
They’re gonna need you, Saba. Lugh an Emmi. An there’ll be others too. Many others. Don’t give in to fear. Be strong, like I know you are.
I ain’t no quitter, Pa.
What is it, Saba? Emmi says.
I turn around. Nuthin, I says.
I got somethin to give you, says Mercy. Hold out your hand.
I do. She puts somethin in it an closes my fingers round it.
What is it? says Emmi.
I open my hand. A rosy pink stone nestles there. Smooth, shaped like a bird’s egg, about the length of my thumb. It feels cool. Cold even. It’s threaded on a leather thong to wear around the neck. I hold it up an the light gleams through it, milky an dull.
It’s pretty, says Emmi.
It’s a heartstone, says Mercy. She lifts it over my head. Your mother gave it to me, an now I’m givin it to you.
I touch it. A gift from my mother. I ain’t never had nuthin that belonged to her.
What’s a heartstone? says Emmi.
It lets you know when you’ve found your heart’s desire, says Mercy.
How does it do that? Emmi frowns.
D’you feel how cold it is now? Even though it’s next to Saba’s skin?
Uh huh, she says, touchin it.
A normal stone ’ud warm up next to your body. Not this one. It stays cold until you get close to your heart’s desire. Then the stone becomes warm. The closer you get to your heart’s desire, the hotter the stone burns. An that’s how you know.
I frown. I didn’t think you’d believe in that kinda thing, I says.
I don’t, says Mercy, not really, but your mother did. She said it showed her the way to Willem, to your father. So she gave it to me. Said she hoped it would show me my own heart’s desire.
An did it? I says.
Well, says Mercy, I found this valley. I guess you could say it’s my heart’s desire.
But did the heartstone turn warm? I says.
Mercy don’t answer fer a moment. Then she says, It’s a long time ago now. I don’t remember.
I look at her. I cain’t tell if she’s lyin or not.
Why’re you givin it to Saba? says Emmi.
Allis always said you don’t own a heartstone, says Mercy, you just become its keeper for a time. Once you have your heart’s desire, you pass it on to someone else. Someone who needs its help.
I don’t need no help, I says. I already know what my heart’s desire is. It’s to find Lugh an git him back.
I’m sure you’re right, says Mercy. Anyways, whether you believe it or not, it’s nice for you to have somethin that belonged to your mother. That meant somethin to her.
Thanks, I says. I mean, fer this an … well, everythin. I better git goin.
When you get to Hopetown, don’t start askin questions, she says. You’ll only draw attention to yourself an that means trouble. Be on your guard. Don’t trust anybody.
I can take care of myself, I says.
An Saba … take care crossin Sandsea. It’s one of the wild places. Listen to the winds. She hugs me fiercely. I wish you’d take my advice an travel by night.
I look at Em. She stares at the ground.
We’ll be back before you know it, I says. Me an Lugh.
I reach out to mess her hair an she ducks away.
Well, I says. Best be on my way.
I pick up my barksack an start walkin. I ain’t gone more’n ten paces before I hear, Saba!
Emmi runs up an flings her arms around my waist, clings on tight. Hurry back! she says.
You be a good girl fer Mercy, I says. I’m countin on you.
I step away.
Bye, Em, I says.
G’bye, Saba, she says.
When I reach the woods, the second I’m outta sight, I take the heartstone from around my neck an stuff it in my pocket.
I know what my heart’s desire is.
I don’t need no stone to tell me when I’ve found it.
SANDSEA
ANOTHER DAWN.
I bin travelin fast. Almost runnin at times. Since I left Crosscreek yesterday mornin, I bin so anxious to make up fer lost time that I kept goin all day an all through last night, only stoppin to sleep fer a couple hours. I don’t feel tired. Not at all. I wish I never had to sleep agin. Not till I find Lugh anyways.
Here’s my cairn. The marker I left to remind me where the hoofprints end. My heart lifts. Deep down inside, I was afeared it wouldn’t be here. That I’d only dreamed I left it here to guide me.
The hoofprints is still here. The last trace of Lugh. If no rain comes to wash ’em away, it’ll be a long time till the wind wears ’em down an they disappear. Maybe they’ll still be here when I come back with him.
I dump my stuff on the ground—barksack, crossbow, quiver. Nero’s bin flyin the last little while, swoopin an divin at me fer fun. Now he flaps down to have a rest on top of the gear.
I ease my shoulders while I uncap my waterskin an take a long swig. I pour some in my hands an wash the dust from my hot face. Wipe it dry with the ends of my sheema. I pour a little water in my eatin tin an put it on the ground fer Nero.
I look out across the wide open desert. Sandsea. It stretches ahead as far as I can see. No trees, no hills, nuthin but flat dry land fer days. The moment I step past this pile of rocks, I’m in a unknown world. Hopetown lies due north, at the foot of the Black Mountains accordin to Mercy. If I’m lucky, I’ll be there in a week. A week, she said. If I’m lucky.
Before I know what it’s up to, my hand slides into my pocket. It finds the heartstone an pulls it out. My fingers curl around its coolness, rub its smoothness.
My heart’s desire. As if a bit of rock could tell me that. I shake my head. If Lugh was here, him an me ’ud laugh about it. I shove it deep in my pocket an swing my gear onto my back.
Let’s go, I says to Nero.
I step past the cairn.
One step closer to Lugh.
I don’t look back.
It’s a Wrecker settlement. Jest like the places in Pa’s scare stories.
Settlements swallowed by wanderin sand dunes, great waves of sand that ’ud cover places in minutes. Then, months or sometimes years later, the sands ’ud move on, an the place ’ud still be there.
There’s twelve m
etal shanties still standin here. Also a couple of rusty cars, a wind pointer an some other crappy lookin Wrecker junk piled up. A dry, mean, pinched kinda place. But it ain’t none of it bin scavenged. If it had of, there’d be no doors or walls or anythin left on the shanties an they’re all still here, jest bent an twisted, probly by the weight of the sand.
No scavengers means it ain’t bin free of the sands fer long. Strange to think that if I’d passed here last week or yesterday or even a couple of hours ago, this might all still be buried outta sight. I could of walked right over it an never known.
I walk through slowly, Nero ridin on my shoulder. I keep a eye open. You always gotta keep a eye open. You never know when you’ll come across somethin you can use. But I ain’t inclined to take nuthin away from this place. It creeps me out.
There’s a well. Water’s probly bad, it mostly is in these old Wrecker wells, but in desertland you cain’t afford not to check it out. I start to lift the rusted cover when I see the faint markins on it. Skull an crossbones. Deathwater. I drop the cover with a clatter. It sounds so loud in the silence it makes me jump. Nero flaps off in a panic.
Then I see ’em. Three rows of crosses stuck in the sand. The wood bleached silver by the sun, worn away, some to little stumps. The crosspiece of one hangs down, ready to fall.
A wily wind sweeps through, bent on makin mischief. It swirls sand around my feet, tosses it in my eyes an makes ’em sting. It moans, deep inside the well. Rattles at the doors of the shanties. Like somebody might open up and invite it in.
The loose crosspiece lifts on the wind. Drops silently to the ground. Blows away.
Deathwater. Shiftin sands.
Poor bastards.
Livin here.
Dyin here.
As I’m leavin the settlement, Nero swoops down at somethin on the ground. Starts to make the most almighty racket, shriekin an squawkin an flappin all over the place. I hurry over to see what’s causin such a fuss.
What is it now, you crazy bird? I says.
He’s got a little ring of smooth green glass in his beak. My heart stops.