by P. C. Cast
“You will, my friend. I just hope you will allow me to call you friend after this.” Dove drew a deep breath and bowed her head, as if speaking a prayer to a fallen god. “Until Lily and I escaped I had never been outside the Temple of our God. I was brought there as a newborn to sacrifice to the Reaper God, but the Watchers—the old women who were believed to hear our God’s words and speak for Her—decided that I had been touched by the Reaper. They spared me. I learned quickly that I had to be of value to the Watchers or they would change their minds and sacrifice me—or worse: banish me from the Temple alone to starve to death. So, from the time I was a child I pretended to hear the voice of our God.”
Lily gasped, but covered her mouth quickly. Dove nodded, acknowledging her friend’s shock. She wiped a trembling hand across her face, and then continued.
“But the truth our People do not know is that all of the Watchers pretended. They were all false oracles. The God spoke to no one. And then my Dead Eye strode into the Temple, cleansing it of the vile old Watchers and sparing me. Like me, he knew the Reaper God was mute—a fabrication of old women to maintain power over the People. He also knew the source of the sickness that was infecting and killing more and more of our people.”
“Tainted meat,” Nik said.
Dove didn’t lift her head, but she nodded in agreement. “Yes, that and more. He believed the animals in our city had become tainted by our People because they had been eating the flesh of the Others and then merging it with their flesh as they attempted to cure the skin-sloughing disease.”
“Which seems to be very like a disease called the Blight that the Tribe suffers from,” Mari said.
“So the old rhyme is true,” Sora said, looking pale. “‘Of cities beware—Skin Stealers are there.’”
“I do not know of other cities. Only my own.”
“Why are you and Lily not sick?” Sora asked.
“I never ate meat, especially not the meat of the Others,” said Dove. “At first it was because I wasn’t allowed to, and then it was because I chose not to. The thought of it has always disgusted me.”
“And I was beginning to sicken before I entered Dove’s service, but I am small and only a girl, so I had to wait with the old people to get my portion of meat and often that meant there was no meat left for me. I was never allowed to eat from flesh taken from the Others.” Lily extended her arm and pushed up the sleeve of her tunic to reveal a few small blisters in the crease of her elbow. “These have not spread.”
“And once she entered my service I made sure she ate the same food my Dead Eye did—and he only ate from the beasts he found deep in the forest. Hunting for untainted food was how he became obsessed with the Tribe of the Trees,” Dove said.
“Lily, I will give you a salve that will soothe those blisters. Third Night, when we draw down the power of the moon to cleanse the Pack, is tomorrow. Then you will be healed completely of that disease.”
Lily bowed her head respectfully. “Thank you, Moon Woman Sora.”
“What Dove says does make sense,” Mari reasoned. “The eating of human flesh is one of our basic taboos—something passed from generation to generation. There had to be a reason for it, and not just because it’s disgusting. It causes sickness. So, this Dead Eye is the same person as the Death God?”
“No! He was my love—my Champion. He was kind to me and cared for me, but somehow he awakened the Reaper God—the God of Death. My Dead Eye was ambitious, but his ambition was only for what was best for our People. Forgive me for saying this, but his intention was to defeat the Tribe of the Trees and move our People to the untainted forest.”
“Only now it is tainted because of him,” Nik said, his voice heavy with anger.
“His original intention was not to poison the forest,” Dove said. “But he changed when Death awoke within him. At first I didn’t understand what was happening. I believed he was simply doing what he must to help our People leave the city. I was wrong. Death had marked Dead Eye as His and, finally, the God of Death absorbed everything that ever was my love until he was no more. Then Death began changing the People as well—flaying the living flesh of animals to their skin so that they absorbed the characteristics of the creatures, though I do not believe any so fully became beasts as did Death.”
“He did that to Thaddeus when He captured him, didn’t He?” Nik said. “He flayed the flesh of his Terrier to him.”
Head still bowed, Dove nodded. “He did.”
“And He poisoned the animals of the forest to weaken the Tribe,” Nik said.
“Yes.”
Nik threw his bowl aside in anger and began to stand, but Mari’s gentle touch on his arm stayed him.
“So much misery!” Nik said, shaking his head. “Her people have caused so much misery.”
“I never meant to harm others. Dead Eye and I only wanted a way out of our own misery.”
“And you found that way. Death will defeat what is left of the Tribe of the Trees,” Mari said. “Why did you not stay with your God and enjoy your victory?”
“Enjoy it?” Dove looked as if she’d eaten sour berries. “No. There is no ‘joy’ left among our People. There is only Death and His needs and desires. It was when I realized this that Lily and I turned to the Goddess of Life, who I believe is the same as your Great Earth Mother. She heard my prayer and led me to you.”
“But you said that you pretended to be an oracle for your Reaper God. What makes you think the Earth Mother heard you, or even acknowledges you? It seems much more likely that it is just a coincidence that your path crossed ours,” Nik said, his voice still bitter.
“The dream,” Sora said. “Mari’s dream.”
“Dream?” Nik asked.
Mari nodded. “I dreamed that a dove came to me looking for sanctuary. My mother’s voice told me to grant her it, but only if she swore to tell a Moon Woman the truth.”
“Yes, the dream. I am grateful for it, but there is more than that,” Dove said. “Death’s plan is to awaken His consort within me—to have the Goddess of Life absorb me as Death did my Dead Eye—but as I listened carefully to the God, I began to realize that the Goddess might not be in agreement with His plan. So, I fled. Hoping that, perhaps, I could serve the Goddess in another way.”
“As a false oracle?” Nik said.
Dove lifted her head then and turned her eyeless face toward Nik. “No. Never. I will never pretend again.” She shifted to face Lily and held out her hand. Her friend hesitated, then grasped it. “Forgive me, Lily. I will never again lie to you, or to anyone else, from this moment until my last.”
“I forgive you, Mistress,” Lily said in a voice that broke with emotion.
“For the rest of us it will not be so easy. Especially for the rest of us who were once part of the Tribe of the Trees,” Nik said. He leaned over to kiss Mari softly. “I am going to check on the canines and help Antreas set to order the first shift of lookouts.” Without another word, Nik strode away.
“You should be prepared,” Sora said. “Nik’s reaction will probably be mirrored in many of the Pack when they learn your story.”
“I am prepared. I am also prepared to win the trust of your Pack, Moon Woman Sora.”
“I don’t think you’ll be able to win it,” Mari said. “You’ll have to earn it.”
CHAPTER 8
The Pack settled in for the remainder of the short night. Arranged in a circle around the well-tended fire, close together with canines settled comfortably by their Companions’ sides, those who did not have first watch slept. Mari found Nik easily. He’d created a space for them across the circle from where Dove and Lily were already sleeping. Mari unwrapped her cloak from around her shoulders and placed it on the pallet he’d made. Then she sat beside Nik as Rigel curled against her side and yawned mightily. Laru was lying on the other side of Nik, looking like he was sound asleep, but as Mari sat, he slitted his eyes and thumped his tail. She reached across Nik to caress his wide, soft head.
“Hey there, Laru. Go back to sleep. You deserve it after the day you’ve had,” she said.
“So do you.” Nik extended his arm as Mari sat so that she could lean into him. He’d placed their pallet in front of a big piece of driftwood, which they used as a backrest. “I told Antreas I’d take first watch, and like you said, we should do that in pairs, but if you’re too tired I can sit watch with O’Bryan and Sheena.”
“I’d rather stay awake and be with you. But do we have to move from here? It’s so cozy.”
Nik kissed the top of her head. “No, look.” He pointed out at the dark water, which lapped only a few yards from where Nik had positioned their pallet. “I chose to put us here so that we could look out across the water. Antreas has everyone watching outward. He says lookouts need to focus on the river, as that’s where the danger would come from.”
Mari relaxed against Nik and gazed out at the black expanse of water. The clouds were hiding the moon again, so it was impossible to see the far bank, as it was just darkness against more darkness. She breathed deeply.
“I like the way the river smells. It’s earth diluted with water plants mixed with trees and rocks to make a special scent all its own.”
“Rocks smell like something?”
“Of course! They smell like rocks … well, and moss and pine needles and such.”
“You’re a strange one, Moon Woman.”
“Thank you.” Mari grinned. “So, you still hate the river?”
“Definitely.” They laughed lightly, then Nik continued. “Mari, I want to ask you to be careful with what you say to Dove and Lily—especially Dove. I know you and Sora want to trust her, but you haven’t dealt with Skin Stealers. The Tribe has. They’re awful—barely human.”
Mari considered her answer carefully. She knew that how she responded to Nik now would set the tone for the future, especially as they would be encountering many different peoples during, and at the end of, their journey.
“I understand why you’re worried. I truly do. And I acknowledge your concern. But there’s something my mama said that I’ve been thinking a lot about lately. She told me many times that we all must choose whether we live our lives based on love or fear. I know now why she repeated that over and over to me—because I lived most of my life based on fear. I didn’t realize it, but my anger at the Clan for not accepting me was fear-based. My resentment at Mama for devoting so much of her time to caring for the Clan was fear-based. The way I used to view the Clansmen as nuisances who should stay on the fringe of the Clan was fear-based. It took losing Mama, and almost losing myself, for me to understand what she meant. Nik, now I choose to live my life based on love, and if that means I make the mistake of trusting someone who hurts me, then so be it. Can you understand that?”
“I don’t know. I hear what you’re saying, but I still want you to be careful.”
“And I will be, but Nik, you should keep in mind if I had followed what you’re saying—to withhold my trust even when my instinct tells me elsewise—I would have left you in that river to die those weeks ago.”
She studied his face. She could see that he was struggling with his fear for her, and probably at his anger at what had become of his beloved Tribe. So, gently, she added, “I ask you to trust my judgment.”
“I do trust you!”
“No, not just me, my judgment. Because, Nik, I do love you, but if you cannot trust my judgment we can never be mates. A matriarchy isn’t just about women leading. It’s about women being respected as equals—valued as equals—even when fear wants you to disagree with our choices, and I must have a mate who doesn’t simply understand the ideals behind that way of life, but who actively embraces it by trusting my judgment.”
Mari saw the surprise and the pain in his eyes, but she didn’t move to comfort him. This was something Nik had to work through, and if he could not, no matter how much she wanted him—or how much she loved him—she truly would not accept him as her mate. She was Moon Woman, one of the leaders of their Clan, and if her own mate did not respect her then they would be an ill-fitted match that would affect her ability to lead their Pack, and that was something she could not, would not, live with.
“I will respect your judgment, my Moon Woman.” Nik spoke somberly. “Though it will be difficult to temper my worry for you. I have lost much recently—my father, my Tribe—basically my whole way of life. I cannot bear to lose you as well.”
Relief bloomed within Mari. “Loss I understand. Loss is what brought us together, but it could also tear us apart if we cannot work through it.”
He nodded, and she felt him relax. “You’re right, my Moon Woman.”
“I love you, my Sun Priest.”
“And I love you as well.”
They sat in silence with their Companions and their Pack around them, gazing out at the seemingly endless river as they held each other and imagined the mysteries the future before them might hold.
* * *
Iron Fist jogged though the burned ruins of the Tribe of the Trees—silent and dark except for the sentry, Thunder, who challenged him as soon as he left the Channel and entered Tribal territory.
“Speak your name!”
“Iron Fist, Blade of the God!”
Thunder dropped from a blackened bough of a half-burned pine. “Iron Fist—Death has left word that you go to Him immediately. Keep following this stream into the burned area there before us.” He pointed. “When the stream turns to the right go left and walk until you see green again. Death is waiting at the big tree with the carved platform.”
“The battle is over?”
“Battle?” Thunder laughed darkly. “There was no battle. The Others are weak, and those who are not are eager to ally themselves with the power of our God.”
“Did He kill them all?” Iron Fist asked.
“No, not yet. There is far too much work to be done, and as our God has promised, we shall rule here now, and not the pathetic Others. They are now our slaves!”
Iron Fist nodded. He was surprised that Death hadn’t wiped out the entire Tribe of the Trees, but Thunder’s words made sense. Why should the People struggle to rebuild the city in the sky when the original builders were so much better suited for the work? He saluted his fellow Reaper. “I go now to report to our Lord.”
“May your feet be swift. Death has been asking for you.”
Thunder’s words goaded Iron Fist into a run. He leaped over burned logs and blackened rubble easily, feeling the strength of the boar within him. He did not know how Death had merged the mighty beast’s essence with His Reapers, but Iron Fist was grateful He had. Gone were the bulbous pustules that used to cover so much of his body. Gone was the wrenching cough and the nausea that used to shadow his every moment—and he would be eternally loyal to Death for the gift of health and preternatural power.
Iron Fist turned to the left when the stream curved right. Soon he heard the sounds of celebration—the drumming and the singing—that marked a victorious battle. He followed those joyous sounds until the blackened city gave way to unscathed green. Singed tree houses that looked very much like enormous nests were now filled with celebrating People. Half-burned platforms held Reapers who were drinking and writhing in time to a sonorous drumbeat, and as Iron Fist watched, one Reaper almost fell to his death from too much revelry, though he seemed not to notice that the fast action of his fellow soldier had snagged his arm and saved him. Iron Fist frowned. It would not do to have the Reapers injuring themselves. He must speak to Death about warning the People to be more careful.
The young Attendants to the God were still back in the city, but the victorious Reapers would not be denied their pleasure. Women of the vanquished Tribe were being forced to service the soldiers. As Iron Fist watched, one Tribal woman escaped the forced embrace of a Reaper. Naked and bloody, she silently leaped from the half-burned platform high above them and landed, broken and still, not far from him.
Iron Fist didn’t waste time watching further. Women we
re chattel. It was simply their fate to serve man. He moved on and then halted on the fringe of the main part of the celebration.
The People were spread in a great circle around a huge old pine that held multiple ornately carved platforms. Just beyond the tree, outside the circle of drinking, dancing Reapers and the suffering women of the Tribe, Iron Fist could see the beginning of a huge roped-off area. Within it was what was left of the defeated Tribe of the Trees. He wondered who was guarding them, and then ceased wondering when he recognized Spider, Deep Water, and Gully walking a slow path around the circumference of the prisoners. The three were old men too ill to be made Reapers, but not so frail that they were unable to keep watch—especially over a Tribe that was so clearly and completely defeated. Even their mighty canines lay silently beside their Companions—heads bowed in failure.
A roar drew Iron Fist’s attention back to the tree in the center of the celebration, and he saw Death stride to the edge of the platform. Several huge bonfires blazed below and around the tree, illuminating the God’s massive silhouette. He lifted His arms and His voice echoed with immortal power around them, easily being heard over the drums and the debauchery.
“Yes, my People! Celebrate! Dance, drink, fornicate! The night is yours—and come tomorrow we will begin building our city in the sky!” Cheers sounded around Him as He bellowed the great roar of a stag.
Iron Fist jogged through the People, weaving his way around Reapers stumbling with drink and triumph. He almost ran into a soldier he didn’t recognize—then he took a closer look. It was a member of the Tribe—the small man who had been captured by them weeks ago and whom Death had used to spread poison to the Tribe. The man, whose name Iron Fist remembered was Thaddeus, had a drink in one hand and with the other held a young girl close to him as he forced her to dance. Her eyes met Iron Fist’s briefly, and what he saw there caused the Reaper to shudder. There was no light within her gaze—there was nothing there at all. It was as if he shared a glance with a corpse.