by S. L. Viehl
“I haven’t chased him yet,” I said, which made everyone laugh. “We hadn’t heard anything from you in so long—I was worried. Where have you been hiding?”
“We found a passage above the old subway that leads to the surface, and made a place for ourselves in the forest. The villagers will not go there. They fear the Glider will descend from the trees and take them to his lair. Now it grows too cold for us to stay there, so we are moving into the western conduits.” He pointed down toward another section of the sewer. “We will be there until the snows pass.”
One of the women stepped forward to have a look at Ilona. “This is the chief’s woman. They will search for her when she is found missing.”
“No, they won’t,” I said. “They think she’s dead.”
Reever briefly explained the situation, which dispelled the last of the hybrids’ doubts.
“Good. We will keep her with us until she is able to travel. Then we can see she returns to her clan at Four Mountains.”
Ilona suddenly clutched at my hands and wailed, “I don’t want to go! I want to stay with Dhreen!”
Dhreen gave me a desperate look. “I’ll go with her and make sure she’s all right.”
Infatuated Oenrallians were more tenacious than Larian flatworms. “We’ve already been over that. I can make a dead woman disappear, but you’d definitely be missed.” To Ilona, I said, “You know you have to go, Red Face. I’ll do my best to keep him safe.”
She stopped crying and scowled at me. “Faun. Red Faun. Why can’t I stay in hiding? No one has seen me.”
“I can’t keep chasing people out of Medical, Ilona. Someone is going to get suspicious. Then Rico will come to finish what he started.”
“You’re sure she’ll be safe with them?” Dhreen jerked his thumb at the hybrids.
“They’re our friends. She’ll be fine. Talk to her, Dhreen.”
The Oenrallan knelt down by Ilona’s litter and carefully took one of her broken hands. “Doc’s right, my precious. The chief’s crazy. I couldn’t stand it if he hurt you again. You have to go with them now.”
“My precious.” Gee, he had it bad.
“I’m afraid.” Ilona groaned as she tried to reach for him. “Come with me.”
“I’ll come as soon I can.” He bent over and rubbed his cheek against hers. “I’ll figure out something soon. I promise.”
We all watched as Ilona’s litter was carried off by the outcasts. She sobbed Dhreen’s name until they vanished into the sewer pipes.
“I can’t leave her out here by herself,” Dhreen said, staring after them.
True love. I needed an aspirin. “She’s not going to be by herself. They’ll take good care of her. I know you’re worried, but if you want to keep her alive, she has to stay out of sight.”
“Don’t simulate the sympathy.” He turned on me. “You want to despise me, okay. But she’s just a kid. Don’t unleash your disillusionment with me and make her pay for it.”
“Pardon me. I’m not very fond of you, but I won’t take out my frustrations on your girlfriend. If I’d wanted to do that, why the hell would I go through all this?”
“Grey Veil. Your parent could have tutored you on some of his maneuvers. He has more than a Hsktskt raider fleet.”
I walked back into the tunnels. Behind me, Reever started talking to Dhreen in low, rapid Oenrallian. I didn’t bother to switch on my wristcom.
“Cherijo.” Reever caught up to me.
“I go to all this trouble for her, and he thinks I’m doing it to set him up. The ingrate.”
“He doesn’t understand friendship.”
“I can see why.” I scowled over my shoulder at the sullen Oenrallian, who trudged several yards behind us. “Who wants to be friends with him, anyway?”
“You should talk to him about what happened at Joren.”
“I was there, I remember what happened.” I made an irritable gesture. “Just let it go, Reever. He thinks I’m just like Joseph, and I’ll never trust him again. Whatever friendship we had is over.”
Hawk continued performing the Night Way ceremonial. The first four days were devoted to exorcism rites, group sweat baths, and unending prayers. After an all-night sing on the fourth night, Hawk went into “the Healing” phase of the ritual and made his first great sand painting.
I’d read about them, naturally, but to see Hawk actually making the dry painting on the cave floor was something else.
He held different colored materials in his fist, and crawled to a specific spot. Slowly and carefully, he trickled the colored stuff in a specific, geometric pattern. Already he’d laid out a complicated design, with hands, spirals, snakes, and stick figures bent over, gathering something in small baskets.
“Sa’ah naaghéi, Bik’eh hózh ó,” he chanted.
I went to the other side of the dry painting, where he could see me and my voice wouldn’t startle him. “Can I talk to you while you do that, or will it mess you up?”
“Talk as much as you like. However, try not to sneeze in this direction.”
I already smelled the pollen, and gave him a mock-warning sniff. “What is that stuff you’re using to make all the different colors?”
“Crumbled clay, sand, cornmeal, pollen, and crushed larkspur petals.”
“If it’s supposed to be a painting, why not use paint?”
“The ’ iikááh is not a permanent thing. Only vegetal materials and sand are used, so the painting can be destroyed before tse’yi, sundown.”
“You take hours to make this thing, and you’re going to sweep it up before it gets dark?”
“Yes.”
“Hawk, you need to take up another hobby.” I looked around at the gathering circle of children watching both of us. “The little ones seem to like it.”
“They take part in the ceremonial tonight. It will be their initiation into the spiritual life of the tribe.”
“Really.” The children weren’t just fascinated; some of them looked terrified. “This initiation scary?”
“Children must learn the greatest secret of the way.”
I noticed that wasn’t a “no.” “Which is?”
He glanced up from the dry painting. “You will learn that tonight, when you are initiated.”
“Me?” I sat back on my heels.
“Isn’t it time you rejoined your people, Cherijo? In spirit, you’re ready to embrace all the mysteries of the way.”
I’d been initiated into a lot of things that no one had bothered to properly explain to me. “Tell me something, Hawk. Does any of this involve things like accidental betrothals?”
He laughed.
Reever escorted me to the consecrated hogan that night, but he was not allowed inside. Only me and a group of kids were admitted.
I saw Hawk, painted and wearing some kind of ceremonial jacket, standing beside a pile of bundled sticks. One of the older women directed me to sit with the girls on the south side of the fire. The boys had already stripped down to breechcloths and were shivering on the opposite side. The low chanting swelled, and suddenly a figure wearing a white mask burst into the hogan.
“Who is that?” I asked the trembling girl next to me.
“The Yei,” she whispered back. “My mother says they put bad children in a sack and take them away and cook them and eat them.”
Nice, what they told their kids for bedtime stories. “Why don’t we tell them to leave?”
The little girl looked blank. “You cannot tell the gods what to do.”
The Yei danced around the girls’ side of the fire, sprinkling something over our heads. Then another figure, this one in a black mask, ran into the hogan and started touching every girl with an ear of corn.
Once all the girls had been sprinkled and touched, the dancers went to the other side of the fire. The oldest boy got up and stood apart from the others. The Yei started dancing around the boy and sprinkled something over his head. More cornmeal, judging by the way it looked.
; Then the black-masked dancer ran over and grabbed a bundle of sticks. He also started dancing around the lone boy, then struck him on the back with the bundle. The boy bit his lips and didn’t make a sound.
I got to my feet. Cornmeal fell off my head and made a circle around my feet. “Hey!”
Someone grabbed me and held on. “Do not interfere. It is the way.”
I was getting extremely tired of “the way.” Just the thought of letting this clown in the mask hit all those boys made my blood boil. I thrust away the hands holding me and yelled as the masked figure hit the boy again. “Knock it off!”
It was obvious no one was going to stop them, so I went over and placed myself between the masked dancers and the quivering boy.
“Whatever this means, you can do it without hurting him.”
“Life is pain. Truth is pain,” Hawk said from behind me. “He is not hurt, Cherijo.”
“He has welts on his back. Bleeding welts,” I pointed out. “You’re going to have to do this another way, because I’m not sitting here and watching you beat these children.”
“The blows must be given.”
“Fine.” I pushed the nearly naked boy toward the fire, stripped off my tunic, and presented my back to the two masked dancers. “I’ll take them.”
“You would have to take three for each male child.”
“I said, I’ll take them.”
Hawk shook his head. “You would have to take them in silence.”
“What happens if I yell?”
“You shame the young men of our tribe.”
“Changing Woman offers her compassion for our children,” one of the older women called out. “The Goddess cannot be refused.”
The dancers looked at Hawk, who made an obscure gesture and hobbled away. The kids were staring at me like I was crazy. I folded my arms and glared at the dancer in the black mask.
“You heard her. I’m a goddess and you can’t refuse me. Have fun.”
He hit me. The bundle of sticks was actually a pile of reeds tied together, and they hurt. I withstood the blow, and the next ten, in silence. Hawk watched me from a few feet away.
The black-masked dancer kept hitting me, on the back, the arms, and the abdomen. The other dancer pelted me with cornmeal. The kids began chanting my name, low at first, then louder and louder until they were practically shouting it.
I was busy biting my tongue and multiplying. Three blows for each of the eleven boys at the fire. Thirty-three hits. By the time I figured that out I was halfway there, I also started to weave on my feet from the pain.
“Who stands with Changing Woman?” one of the older women yelled.
Two of the Night Horse women came forward and took hold of my arms. That helped—I was about ready to pass out—and supported me. The black-masked dancer was hitting me harder and harder each time. Blood began trickling down my back and arms. My abdominal muscles started to cramp. Not being able to make a sound really made it all the more interesting.
Twenty-nine. Thirty. I was barely aware of the last of the blows. The final one hit me squarely between the shoulder blades, and would have driven me to my knees if the other women weren’t holding me. Then all the chanting and yelling stopped, and the dancers stood in front of me and removed their masks.
The one in the white mask was Kegide. The one in the black mask was Milass. As if I hadn’t guessed that.
I saw the faces of the kids go rigid with shock as Kegide and Milass put the masks on the ground. Hawk was handing out little pouches of corn pollen to all the kids.
“So you see now the secret of the Yei. Men and women must do much of the work of the gods—remember this.”
The kids all came forward to sprinkle the masks with corn pollen. Kegide even picked up the mask so they could look through the eye holes.
“You must never tell what you saw this night to anyone. Especially not your younger brothers and sisters,” Hawk said.
The children all promised to keep quiet about the initiation. Then they started surrounding me, and touching the bloody wounds on my arms and back. Some of them smeared my blood in parallel lines on their faces.
“You are truly Changing Woman.”
“I was truly in a lot of pain. “Thanks.” I let one of the women lead me over to mat, and sank down on it. I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. One by one the kids filed out of the hogan, along with the adults, until only Hawk and I were left.
“That was a foolish thing to do, patcher.” He brought a bowl of water and started washing the blood from my back. “What is this?”
I tried to look over my shoulder. “What?”
“The cuts are already scabbing over.” Hawk squeezed out the rag and the water in the bowl turned pink.
“I heal really fast,” I said.
He sat back on his heels. “You have been touched by the gods. Like our chief.”
Raising my arms to put on my tunic wasn’t an option for a couple of hours. “Yeah, and I didn’t enjoy it. Can I borrow a shirt?”
PART FOUR
Equity
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Twins
The day after my initiation, Reever was summoned with the other players to go to a pregame press conference at the arena. I concealed the palm-sized sensor unit I’d modified to double as a medical scanner in his right forearm pad, and suggested a couple of ways for him to get the scans I needed on the chief.
“If you can’t get anything else, do the cerebral scan. Try putting your arm on his shoulder. Position the unit directly behind his head and press the second and third buttons simultaneously. You can pretend to be giving him a hug or something.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
I looked at the vid unit, which was broadcasting news coverage of the pre-World Game festivities. “When you’re talking to the media, remember to keep your helmet on.” I tucked his queue into the back of his jersey. “The last thing we need is for them to find out ‘The Wind’ is a wanted fugitive.”
He ran a finger down the side of my face. “What are you going to do while I’m gone?”
“Figure out a minor mystery.” I caught his hand and squeezed it. “You be careful.”
After Reever left for the surface, I casually strolled out to the central cavern, where the women were preparing food for the midday meal. I hadn’t bothered to help myself to the community stew in weeks, but now I went over and examined it with interest.
One of the older women beckoned to me. “Are you hungry? I have bread from the morning meal.”
“No, thank you. I was just wondering, are those potatoes?” I pointed to an open mesh sack next to the flat boulder used for food prep.
“Yes. New potatoes, very fresh.”
Fresh. In an underground cave. With no sunlight. “May I have one?”
She nodded, a little puzzled. “You would eat it raw?”
I smiled and shook my head. “No, I don’t think so.”
I went over and took a potato from the sack. I brushed a little dirt from it before I dug a hole in the hot ash with a stick and buried it. Then I started to walk back to the tunnels.
“Patcher, what about your potato?”
“It has to cook. I’ll be back in a little while.”
When I got to Medical, I made a slide from the dirt concealed in my palm. The analyzer balked a little at my input analysis request, but eventually it identified three different organic compounds, including horse manure.
My conclusion: The potatoes hadn’t been grown this far underground.
Working off the theory that using the subway system to transport food to Leyaneyaniteh from the surface village would be impractical, I went back to the central cavern and did some discreet reconnaissance from behind the cover of an unoccupied hogan.
The women working on the stew occasionally got up and wandered back toward a certain tunnel. When I judged the timing was right, I edged along the wall and went into the tunnel.
It was another section I hadn’t been perm
itted to explore, part of another subway station. I kept listening for footsteps as I cautiously made my way deeper into the network of platforms and recessed storage areas.
I saw the sunlight before I found the storeroom. It streamed into the tunnel from an open doorway, illuminating everything with a faint, golden glow. Holding my breath, I edged into the room.
Sacks and boxes of vegetables were neatly sorted and stored inside. Above my head, sunlight poured in from a narrow square opening lined with some kind of alloy.
Even better, there was a square wooden platform hooked to a pulley-and-chain fall hanging from the shaft. It was simple to see how it worked. Whenever they needed something, all they had to do was pull the chain, which hauled the platform up through the shaft. Food was loaded onto the platform at the surface, then lowered back down. A primitive, but ingenious, method of assuring the tribe got their veggies.
I got under the shaft and looked up. It was longer than I’d expected, maybe as much as five hundred feet straight up. The shaft itself was too narrow to accommodate more than a few boxes or sacks of vegetables.
But perhaps one small, skinny Terran could fit through.
I heard voices coming near and promptly dived behind a stack of crates. A rat squealed as I dropped and ran past my face to cringe in a nearby corner. I held my breath as the storage room door opened.
“We need three more bushels of corn for the ceremonial. And bring some of those new carrots. Burrow Owl wants to mash them for her little one.”
“They were sweet, were they not?”
“Sweet is all that greedy baby wants.”
The women laughed and gossiped as they collected the food, then left. I lifted my head cautiously, then rolled my eyes as the rat stared suspiciously at me from its corner.
“I wouldn’t hang around here, if I were you. Burrow Owl’s kid may decide she wants some stew to go with her mashed carrots.”
I got back to the central cavern without raising an alarm, and retrieved my now-baked potato. It proved to be delicious. I made a mental note to prepare some for Reever when he returned from the arena, and returned to Medical to run the daily cardiac series on Shropana.