Wolfwater

by Alia Hess

  You can’t fool me with your plastic smiles, cousin. Yours are better than everyone else’s, but I’ve gotten quite good at deciphering them. “What’s wrong?”

  “Dada!” Son of Owl leaned away from Owl, his arms outstretched. Trav hefted him onto his hip. He wiped juice from their son’s chin and looked at Owl, his icy blue eyes soft and sad. “We should go inside.”

  Her heart thundered and she swallowed hard. Is someone sick? Was there an accident? She followed Trav and Quietbird into the house, the scent of old wood and cooking spices enveloping her. She cleared a stack of photos and her journal from the dining room table and sat by the window. Quietbird sat opposite, smoothing out his billowy shirt. He shifted and glanced around the softly sunlit room as Trav took a seat.

  “What happened?” Owl asked.

  Quietbird sighed. “Corvin and Sasha went to Pearlolla yesterday to hang out…”

  “Oh, God.” Owl put a hand over her mouth, her stomach clenching. “Are they okay? Are they missing?”

  “They’re not missing. They’re…okay. At the moment. They’re in a detainment center on Tam.”

  “What?” She scowled. Dammit, Sasha. Or was it Corvin’s fault? Sasha had a hard time staying out of trouble, but Corvin always looked out for him. Corvin had his own problems, but he’d been good. He hadn’t been violent or even said anything rude to anyone here that she could remember.

  Trav squeezed her hand. “Apparently, they were invited to a party on Tam and took naal bark.”

  “Oh, geez.” She rubbed her forehead. “Why would they do that? Sasha has sworn off alcohol. I don’t understand why he’d suddenly want to take drugs instead. And I’ve never seen Corvin take anything stronger than scorpion leaf.”

  Quietbird shook his head. “I don’t know, but they couldn’t have picked a worse place do that. Supposedly they stumbled into Elder Palesun’s garden and destroyed a lot of things and caused a ruckus. Tam’s government doesn’t punish people by banishing them, like we do here on Nis. They don’t vote on whether someone is innocent or guilty. Elder Palesun has final say on sentencing and then the convicted people are sent to Pearlolla prison.”

  “Prison?” Owl yanked on her hair. “They’re going to prison? Just like that? Corvin has a lot of money. Can’t they just pay a fine or something?”

  “Palesun is very upset, and all of your brother’s money isn’t going to do squat. He’s been notoriously strict toward his own people as of late, and his opinion of Mainlanders is not good. Pearlolla used to be the only carefree, friendly island. After you and Trav moved back here to Nis, the judgemental climate of this island changed too. Palesun is afraid if he grows lax and lets Tam become the same way, a bunch of Mainlanders are going to—well, do what Sasha and Corvin did. He doesn’t want to send them to prison. He wants to make an example of them.”

  “In what way?”

  The ocean’s distant breath filled the silence. One of the chickens clucked by the side of the house. Son of Owl fussed and Trav set him on the floor, his gaze going back to Quietbird.

  Quietbird stared into the table. “He wanted to execute them. I talked him out of it.”

  The air left Owl and she sank into her chair. Her hands quivered as she gripped the seat, afraid if she didn’t hold on that she might fall straight into the Earth. My brother. And my “brother.”

  “Execute? Execute? For messing up his garden? Are you kidding? That’s ridiculous!” Her voice bordered on shrill but she couldn’t help herself. Nobody executes anyone around here. Occasionally, Quietbird has his brothers “take care” of someone, and that’s bad enough, but why such extreme measures on Tam? Just because the Elder doesn’t like Mainlanders?

  Trav put an arm around her and she shut her eyes.

  “I have a feeling that he may have only said he wanted to execute them so he could start high in negotiations, but the way he throws his power around really rubs me the wrong way. Regardless, we were able to reach a compromise.” Quietbird spread his hands. “It’s the best I could do. Those guys are lucky I know how to pull strings and sweet-talk people. Normally Tamians don’t get representatives to argue for them, but, well, I play favorites, and Palesun has to listen to me because I’m an Elder.” He bit his lip and looked out the window.

  She wanted to reach across the table and shake him by the shoulders, hoping his words would come out quicker. “What is it? What did you arrange?”

  “I asked him if there was any other way to work things out. He said no at first, but I finally got out of him that he wants someone to go on a retrieval mission to the Mainland. If they bring the person back to him, he’ll let Sasha and Corvin go. I told him we knew people that could make that happen.”

  Trav grimaced. “You mean me? I never want to go there again. What person?”

  “His illegitimate son. See, when Palesun went on his naming quest, he traveled up the Northwest Coast and entered Maralti territory. He met some woman there and got her pregnant. Recently, he received a letter from a Maralti tribe member telling him that the woman got sick and died. This tribe has the kid, and he’s safe, but now Palesun wants his son here on the Islands. Someone needs to go to the Mainland and get him.”

  “We’re going to need more than just one person for that. The Mainland is full of highwaymen, trashdogs, and God-knows what else—”

  Owl gave Trav a sideways glance. “It’s not that bad. There’s good in the Mainland too.”

  “Bad enough that you wanted me to travel with you when we first met so I could protect you.”

  She looked away, swallowing a lump in her throat.

  “My point is, it’s better to have more people with you. And what about these Maralti? Are they dangerous? I wouldn’t want to be walking through the forest and step into some trap for intruders, or shot with an arrow or something.”

  “Palesun insisted they were friendly, but I’ve never met them, and it was years ago when he was among them,” Quietbird said.

  Trav sighed. “Well, we could get Gentlewave, maybe. He’s the best escort I know and good with a gun.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “But I really don’t want to go back to the Mainland. Dammit, Sasha and Corvin.”

  “We’ll figure out who’s going to go, cousin. That’s not the hard part. The hard part is finding the kid and bringing him back. Because Sasha and Corvin aren’t leaving until he’s safe on Tam.”

  “But this isn’t right!” Owl blinked back tears. “They have to sit in a cell until the mission is complete?”

  “No, no,” Quietbird said. “That was part of the negotiations I worked out with Palesun. There’s no guarantee they’d be safe in Pearlolla prison, and if we have people sticking their necks out to do this retrieval mission for him, we need some kind of assurity in return that Sasha and Corvin will be okay in the meantime. They won’t be transferred to prison. They’ll stay in the detainment center on Tam. It’s a guarded abandoned village on the beach.”

  Owl pushed up, heart pounding. She tried to steady her voice. “Do Dusty and Dewbell know what’s going on?”

  “I haven’t told them yet—”

  “And do Sasha and Corvin know about this arrangement? Do they think they’re going to be executed?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “We need to go see them. We need everyone.”

  “I agree,” Quietbird said. “Then we’ll make a plan.”

  Trav pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll pack Son of Owl’s traveling bag and take him to my father’s. Darling, why don’t you go break the news to Dusty and Dewbell. And grab Gentlewave.”

  Owl gripped the table and looked at Trav. A tear rolled down her face and he frowned, pulling her down into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, and she sobbed into his broad chest.

  “It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out,” he said.

  She twisted her fingers into his shirt, acutely aware that Quietbird was witnessing this, but unable to stop the hot tears from coming.

  “I was without Corvin for
fifteen years. I missed him so much. And now he’s back for less than a year and he’s gone again,” she said. “How is he even going to last in jail? Even if it is just an old village on a beach, he gets anxious in cramped places, especially when he doesn’t have his art stuff around. Plus, he’ll be surrounded by criminals. Are they violent? What if they try to do something to him? What if he tries to do something to them?”

  Trav stroked her hair. “Shh. He’ll be okay. Quietbird will make certain of that.”

  But being kidnapped by highwaymen really messed him up. He’s going to be so scared. She didn’t even know if the story Sasha told her was accurate. Corvin would probably never tell her himself.

  At least he has Sasha. Sasha… Dusty will be so upset. Those two are more in love than I have ever seen anyone be. I love Trav more than anything, but they are sickeningly sweet on each other. They’re so cute. She was pretty sure Sasha had been in jail before, but he was a nice guy—not tough. Every time he had visited her in the past he had a new injury on his face from someone he had pissed off. He couldn’t handle himself in a fight.

  Trav’s shirt muffled her ragged cries. He held her face, his cerulean eyes locked with hers. “Hey. It’s okay. With all of us together, we’ll figure out what to do. And they have each other right now, right? They’re okay. Do you want me to go get the ladies? You can stay here with our Muffin instead.”

  Owl wiped her cheeks. “Would you? I just don’t know if I have the strength to tell them. They must be worried sick that their husbands didn’t come home last night.”

  “Of course. You stay here.” Standing, he kissed her forehead, then hurried out the front door.

  Owl shut her eyes, absorbing the stillness of the empty room. “Quietbird? Are you still here?”

  “I’m back here with this little toughie!” Quietbird’s voice rang through the small house from the nursery. “He sure likes to pull hair.”

  She breathed a laugh and wiped her eyes, then walked through the curved hall and entered the nursery. Several books with chewed edges lay on the floor near the wooden crib, a yellow knitted blanket—a gift from Dewbell—draped the side.

  Son of Owl sat on a blue woven rug, surrounded by a pile of wooden blocks. Quietbird sat next to him, stacking them into a tower. Her son let go of Quietbird’s black braid and kicked out, knocking over the blocks.

  Owl bent and kissed him on the forehead, then glanced at Quietbird. “Thank you for doing what you could, cousin. We can always count on you.”

  Quietbird sighed. “I wish I could have done more, but Palesun has a serious stick up his ass.” He cringed and looked at Son of Owl. “Sorry. It’s true, though.”

  If they were all going to go to the detainment center, she needed to get things ready, emotionally prepared or not. After leaving the room and heading into the kitchen, she retrieved the baby bag and filled it with snacks and diaper fasteners.

  They’re okay right now. They’re going to be stuck there for a bit, but it’ll be alright.

  The thoughts did little to soothe her racing heart and quivering hands as she secured the straps on the bag.

  If Trav goes to the Mainland, I’m going to be without him for at least two months. That’s Corvin, Sasha, and Trav. Gone. Who else is going to leave?

  She pictured Trav standing outside with a backpack, wearing heavily-applied eyeblack, and his hatchet hooked through the loop on his raggedy pants.

  Their time on the Mainland had been rough, but she thought of it fondly. She’d fallen in love with Trav then. Thinking about him in eyeblack always made her heart skip a beat, but he surely didn’t romanticize his time there the way she did. Trav had wandered for three years before meeting her. Having to go back would probably feel like a punishment.

  Her journal and a pile of photographs sat to one side of the table. The glossy square at the top of the stack held quite a few smiling faces. It had been difficult to squeeze everyone into the shot, so they were all crammed together, a sliver of ocean visible behind them. She and Trav were smiling into the camera. Dusty was planting a kiss on Sasha’s cheek. Chains of flowers festooned his neck, and a crown of them wreathed his head. He’d said birthdays without alcohol were still weird, but he’d had a good time anyway.

  Owl shuffled through the photos, setting some aside to take with her. Maybe giving the guys some small reminders of home would go a long way.

  The door opened and Trav entered with Dusty and Dewbell. Dusty slouched against the wall, brows drawn together. “Hey, guys.”

  Dewbell crossed the room and slid her arms around Owl. Owl gave her a squeeze. Some of Dewbell’s blonde hair had come loose from her updo, framing her drawn, freckled face.

  “Where’s Gentlewave?” Owl asked.

  Dewbell shook her head and shrugged.

  Trav said, “He wasn’t at home. I think he’s with Mothwing, but they weren’t at his place either. Maybe we should just tell them later.”

  Owl sighed. They needed Gentlewave. He always seemed to know how to bring comfort to difficult situations, especially when it came to Dewbell. Plus, he was the most experienced at escorting. If they discussed plans at the detainment center, he’d be a big help.

  It’ll take too long to find him right now. He could be fishing way out in the woods for all we know.

  Quietbird entered the room holding Son of Owl. She’d have to thank him again later for entertaining their little Muffin while she pulled herself together.

  She slung the baby bag over her shoulder. “Yes, we can tell Gentlewave later. The rest of us should go.”

  Dusty, still slumped against the wall, made no move to follow the others outside. Owl paused and put a hand on her arm. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine.” Dusty’s mouth twisted and she swallowed hard. After trailing behind Owl, she slammed the door behind her.

  “Damn.” Sasha turned his arm, straining to see the last of the plant spines stuck in his flesh. He plucked at one, pain shooting through his arm, but the spine stuck firm. “Can’t see this one good enough to get out.”

  Corvin paced in the little wooden hut—he’d been doing it for what seemed like hours. The wooden planks creaked with every step. How long would it take for him to wear a path into the floor? His normally perfect hair stuck to his forehead in dirty, sweaty locks. He stopped. “You want me to help?”

  As Corvin neared, Sasha tilted his arm. Corvin took it and squinted, then fished in his pocket and produced a pair of tweezers.

  Sasha scoffed. “Why you have that?”

  “In case I have a stray eyebrow hair or something.”

  “No, I mean, guards didn’t take from you? They take everything from my pockets.”

  Corvin shrugged. “They must have missed it. It was in a coin pocket in my trousers.”

  “Pretty sloppy search. In Russian jail, they search you everywhere. Everywhere.”

  The look on Corvin’s face made him regret mentioning it, but maybe this place wouldn’t be as bad. And hopefully execution was off the table now that Quietbird had talked to Palesun. That’s how Sasha had interpreted the guard’s statement, anyway. He’d walked inside, told them they had to stay put until Quietbird showed up, then paused and said, “You two are some lucky sons-of-bitches.”

  Nothing about this felt lucky.

  Corvin pressed the tweezers against Sasha’s arm, then jerked back. Sasha sucked air through his teeth. “You get it?”

  “Yeah. There’s one more.” He plucked the remaining spine out with a hard pull.

  Sasha rubbed his arm. “Shit. I don’t even remember falling into bushes. Or flowers, or whatever those came from.”

  “I don’t remember most of last night.”

  “Yeah, that happen to me a lot in life, but always when I drink too much vodka. Never had my drink drugged before… I think.”

  Corvin went back to pacing the floor. “When is Quietbird supposed to get here? He is coming, right? We’ve been holed up in here forever waiting for him.” He wagged a finger in th
e air. “Hopefully he’s negotiated our release, and is now giving all of Tam an earful about how poorly they treat visitors to their island. I mean, what kind of people act so hostilely toward their guests?”

  Sasha thought about mentioning the time Corvin forced he and Dusty to eat cheesecake at knife-point in his Hammerlink mansion, but decided against it.

  He walked to the hut’s dim window, peering out at the small beach. Waves crashed against the rocky shore, small pools of water churning much as his own stomach was at the moment. More huts peppered the area, many in disrepair—the thatched grass sliding off the roofs while outer walls sagged in on themselves. Several average-looking people sat on the coarse gray sand, nursing hangovers or stewing over their guilt, or whatever it was prisoners were supposed to do—maybe pace. They seemed as out of place here as Sasha felt.

  “I can’t stand this.” Corvin pulled a comb from his back pocket, peered into the reflective surface of the hut’s door knob (locked from the outside), and tugged the comb through his sweaty hair. He tilted his face one way, then the other, rubbing the stubble on his sharp jaw. “I look like shit. I need a bath and some fresh clothes. My stomach is killing me. And this shirt is completely ruined. Blood stains and rips in the elbows and a big black smudge on the front. What do you suppose that came from?”

  Sasha slid down the wall and sat. “I have no idea.”

  “And where in the world did my bow tie go?”

  “Right now, I am more worried if we still going to be executed.”

  “You heard that guard. He wouldn’t call us lucky if we were going to be executed.”

  “Still don’t mean nothing bad going to happen to us. And I am worried too about what ladies going to think of me. Dewbell and Owl going to be so disappointed. And Dusty…” An image of her well-honed scowl grazed his mind. This was just what he needed—another excuse for her to be angry with him. No, she wouldn’t be angry. She’d be devastated. “You think the ladies will show up with Quietbird? And stop pacing, Corvin, you driving me crazy.”

  “I’m going crazy. I need to get out of this room. You been to jail before?”