by J. D. Lakey
Cheobawn flushed. Scooting forward off the edge of her large chair, she set her tea cup down on the table and rubbed her damp palms against her silk covered thighs.
“No. You are right. I am an envoy of sorts, I guess,” she said, looking around at the High Council. “I am here from a sense of duty though I would rather not be here at all. They have requested we parlay.”
“Parlay? Parlay with whom?” Menolly asked, confusion in her voice.
“Spider sent me. With an entreaty. Please cease the slaughter of the Spider’s children,” Cheobawn said.
Sybille set her cup down hard with the sound of porcelain cracking against porcelain. “This is beyond bearing. Now they overreach themselves by seducing our children.”
“I cannot in good conscience allow an aggressive predatorial species foothold in the lands above the Escarpment,” Mora said, betraying nothing by her demeanor as she ignored Sybille’s outburst.
Cheobawn bit her lower lip. Negotiating as an equal with the Coven was new territory for her. Was she supposed to rise and meet these emotional attacks? Emotions seemed to get in the way of logic. She met her Truemother’s eyes, choosing to take her cue from the First Mother. “Then give them to me and let me dispose of them in my own way,” Cheobawn said.
Amabel was studying her intently. “You want them to live? One of them came gods-cursed close to killing you.”
“I think your illness has confused your loyalties,” Mora said, her tone as cold as ice.
“I did not die and the experience has made me wiser,” Cheobawn said. How was she going to turn their will to her side? Desperation threatened. She swallowed it, refusing it admittance into her heart. “But I am still a child of the domes, first and foremost. Spider can cause us great harm if it so chooses. It does not wish to harm when cooperation would yield better results. It wishes to strike a deal.”
“What is this foolishness?” Sybille said. “When were you ever in contact with the ruling hegemony of the Spider species?”
“Ask Amabel.” Cheobawn turned to meet the Maker’s eyes. “You surely have had time to study the physiology of the dead spiders. The code inside their living thread is not much different than the bhotta’s, despite the differences between lizard and arthropod.”
“Their brain has a bloodstone at its core,” Amabel nodded. “I only had time to study the three your foray killed so I must assume many things, but I believe the stones are tuned to every other spider brain, creating a linked family akin to the communication stones we harvest from the bhotta.”
“Touching one spider, you touch all of Spider, across the infinite distances of space,” Cheobawn said, nodding.
“You were not ill or sleeping, you were in communion with Spider kind?” Brigit asked, a delighted smile on her face. “Clever girl. What was it like?”
“Confusing. Educational.” Cheobawn shook her head and took up her cup to sip the tea and ease her dry throat. “They want to join forces with the domes.”
“I cannot tell you how truly horrific that idea seems to me,” Mora said. “What kind of ally would Spider make?”
“In the right place, at the right time, they would become a weapon of incalculable worth,” Cheobawn said. “We share the same enemies, after all.”
“The tribes have no enemies,” Mora said, her face an inscrutable mask, her voice serene. “We are neutral. That neutrality and our isolation keep us safe.”
“Surely you must know what hangs over our heads,” Cheobawn said with a wave of her hand. The image of the night sky lighting up with the Spacer bombardment came unbidden, choking off her breath for a moment. “You hold the threat of the loss of bloodstones over the Lowlander’s heads to keep them tame. You use the Lowlanders to parlay with the Spacers. Your demands are met unquestioned but how long will that hold them off before they decide to test your walls, feeling out your vulnerabilities? The men who killed Old Father Bhotta were not defeated. They merely retreated to consider their next move, having gained an incalculable wealth of knowledge in one short meeting. The domes are like a fat beetle dangling over a pond full of hungry fish. We are not defenseless but they do not know that. They will rise to the bait, their greed outweighing logic or common sense. Let us put a giant spider into the equation and see which web entangles them first.”
“I will not deny that the loss of Spider-kind from the shallow seas was a grave blow to life on this planet. But it has been two thousand years. The world has found a new equilibrium,” Mora said. “How dare I disrupt that matrix of life by reintroducing an apex predator?”
“How dare you not?” Cheobawn said, leaning forward to push her argument all the more. “Old Father Bhotta longed for the return of Spider to our seas. I felt it in his mind as he died. It is the planet’s will that has brought me to this place. Bear Under the Mountain will hide what eggs he can in hopes that a few survive to make it to the sea. Spider does not want the Highreaches. Spider wants the sea. Spider wants hot sandy beaches to hatch her young. The domes will never be in danger. All Spider wants from us is help in getting what few eggs remain safely down the long river to Orson’s Sea. Time has become a factor in this request.”
“You will forgive us if we question the ideas of a chit of a girl who sees sentience in inanimate things,” Amabel said, her lack of faith hidden behind a lazy drawl and a smile that contained no mirth. Amabel did not like Bear Under the Mountain. She thought him a delusion created by a fragile mind.
“Do not judge her magic so harshly, I beg you sister,” Brigit said. “Is this not what we intended all along, that she see beyond the limits of ordinary perception?”
“You might have warned me about that,” Cheobawn said.
“Who knew that so much was going on inside your head?” Sybille asked with a small shrug. “You betrayed nothing and you show an alarming propensity towards secret keeping. I began to doubt your intelligence, taking your reserve for stupidity.”
Sybille’s accusations were so outrageous Cheobawn could do nothing but laugh. It may not have been wise. The platinum haired Mother glared at her.
“The treaty?” Cheobawn asked, refusing to be diverted by Sybille’s incendiary words. “What do you say to Spider?”
“I would need to consult with the other domes, convene a meeting of all the First Mothers. It will take time,” Mora said.
“You are High Mother to all the domes. Use the power of your office to resolve this emergency, now,” Cheobawn said. “Ask permission later.”
“Emergency? We have months before the spring comes and the remaining eggs thaw,” Amabel said, throwing up her hands in protest.
“No. My luck is the luck of chaos. My presence in this affair has changed the time line. We have only days. Hesitate and you risk the enmity of Spider. They intend to reclaim the shallow sea with or without your help. Act now and ensure that the domes do not become collateral damage in their single minded quest to take back their rightful home.”
“Collateral damage,” Sybille said, a snarl on her lips and fire in her eyes. “What have you done?”
“I?” Cheobawn shook her head. “I need only be present and things happen. I have done nothing but listen. Now things have been done in my name. The cooling pond is full of eggs near to hatching. You cannot kill them nor allow them to die without Spider hearing, as Amabel has told you. Spider will not be pleased if you do nothing. No mother would be, hearing her children die.”
“Days?” asked Amabel, bridling under the onus of this new burden.
“Do not worry,” Cheobawn said. “I believe I have a solution, if you will but listen.”
Mora, her eyes glittering behind her serene mask, looked knowingly up at Ramhorn Pack. “You play a dangerous game with Sigrid. What will you do if he challenges Tam for the rights to your heart?”
Cheobawn blinked in surprise. What was the purpose of this new attack? “I … why would he do that?”
Amabel laughed, genuinely amused. The other Mothers smiled at Amabel’s mirth.
“Oh, dear goddess in all the heavens,” Amabel said to Mora, “There is going to be hell to pay when she reaches puberty. All that innocence and unconscious grace added to adolescent hormones. This place is going to go up like hydrogen gas over an open flame. Are you ready for that?”
Cheobawn looked around, confused. “I do not know what you are going on about.”
“No, which makes your power all the more seductive,” Menolly said, her voice gentle and patient. “What Amabel is saying is that you seduce people with your very nature, making them do what common sense and logic ordains to be unwise. Surely you are aware of this?”
“You all seem to be impervious to these charms,” Cheobawn snorted, unable to keep the acid from her tone. She immediately regretted it. Penitents did not start arguments with their judges.
Brigit laughed. “Do not think it. We have had many a discussion on that very matter. You are so very like Mora when she was your age which is why she …”
“Enough, Brigit!” Mora’s voice snapped sharply, cutting off the laughter. She scowled at her wives until they fell silent. Then she continued. “Back to the matter at hand.”
“Yes,” Cheobawn said. She studied the women arrayed in front of her, a little annoyed that they found her a source of amusement once again. “Spider says that your interest and theirs are the same. He knows what you value above all else. Spider would like to offer you what you cannot obtain by yourself.”
“What might that be?” Mora asked, obviously tiring of this game. “Spider’s desires are in no way like ours.”
“Spider says it is time to right the wrongs done to him. In return he will be the Darkness to your Light, the Chaos to your Order, the Destruction to your Creation. Balance will be restored to this place as the first Mothers hoped it would be when they set out to build the first dome. Spider offers you that – the dreams of your ancestors brought to fruition. The Oneverse will right itself and spin on. All who move against you will be caught up in your storm and consumed.
“And what are you, in this drama?” Mora asked. Cheobawn stared at her Truemother. It was a trap, this question. Cheobawn thought long and hard before she answered
“I am nothing. I am the supplicant standing naked here, in your presence. That is how it is out there, in the vortex at the center of the Universe. I stand in the heart of the nothingness that holds everything in place. Because I want none of its power, I wield all that I wish to wield. Paradox. Spider loves paradox. He has named me. He calls me Innocence. What say you?”
The Mothers looked at each other.
Sybille broke the silence first. “You knew she would start gathering her armies about her. Why are you surprised that you have sent her out and Spider came home with her following her like a lost kitten?”
“But Spider!” protested Amabel.
“Ever have we underestimated the nature of the puzzle we have set for her to solve. Who are we to question the magic of her Making?”
Cheobawn stared at Sybille. Until this moment, she had not thought Sybille believed in magic.
“Enough,” Mora said. “Remember what we discussed.” She turned her eyes on her Truedaughter.
Cheobawn met those icy blue eyes.
“You want Spider? Then he is yours. Do with him as you see fit. I will inform the Fathers.”
Chapter Eighteen
Connor held Cheobawn’s hand tightly as they waited, their eyes on the front doors of the Temple. Today was the day. Blackwind Pack was to become whole once more. They were not alone. A large crowd had gathered, waiting to greet the new initiates.
“Do you think they will have changed very much?” Cheobawn asked.
“Naw,” said Connor with utter confidence. “It will take more than a few months of being locked in a dark box to change Tam. He will be just as bossy as before, trust me.”
“They say girls change the most. After learning the mysteries … along with all the other stuff.”
Connor thought for a moment. “I am pretty sure Megan knew most of that before. Some things don’t need teaching.”
Cheobawn puzzled over that. Was becoming a woman as easy as that? Like listening to the ambient and hearing just a little bit more every day until one day you woke up and the warp and the weft of it settled around your shoulders like a comfortable old coat? Were you surprised only if you ignored it, like ignoring Tam’s table?
She had gone back to her old habit of checking the lands of Bear Under the Mountain every day. The great void feeling over the Waste was gone; the Spacers’ hunter-ships gone back to their mothership after making sure the northern forests were clear of eggs. The smoke leopard had disappeared during the last grimstorm, gone home to the Waste, she suspected, though she did not go looking beyond the range of her dome’s high pastures, content just to know he was gone. Vinara had released all the fenelk into the bogs below North Fork Trail, letting them fend for themselves in the swampy lowlands. The heat of the decomposing peat kept the land clear of snow there while the deep snow that surrounded it would keep the animals effectively penned. They could forage for themselves which freed up a massive amount of fodder for the remaining animals, the hope being that no predator would stalk them in the wetlands while less formidable prey still haunted the southern forests. With the Spider’s doorway closed, the icy blasts of winter had eased and the bennelk no longer complained about ice demons. The days grew noticeably longer and warmer. The forest shook the burden of snow out of its branches and the drifts of snow looked tired and deflated. Spring was near.
The temple doors swung slowly open. Cheobawn squealed in delight. Megan, taller than most girls her own age with her cap of lustrous blond curls, stood out from the crowd of young people exiting the Temple in their silk pants and tunics. Bracketed by Tam’s ebony hair and Alain’s shock of coppery bristles, Blackwind’s Alpha Ear was hard to miss. Grabbing Connor, she pulled him into motion. Tam, his eyes scanning the crowd, spotted them first. A delighted grin filled his face as he watched his littlest packmates run across the plaza.
Tam bent down and caught Cheobawn up as she launched herself at him, grunting under the assault. He crushed her to his chest in a fierce hug. “Oof, wee bit. Have you been growing?” he asked, setting her down again. Cheobawn punched him in the hip and turned to hug Alain and Megan.
“You are taller than I remember,” Megan said. “And thinner. Have you been eating? Connor, you were supposed to be watching out for her.”
“I did!” Connor said. “She does the dumbest things sometimes. I am so glad you are back. Now it’s your turn to chase after her and clean up her messes.”
“Gah!” Alain said in mock horror, a smile playing on his lips. “I am already missing Temple and I have only been outside for less than a minute. What have you two been up to?”
Cheobawn grinned and took her heartsister’s hand. Together they walked arm in arm back to Pack Hall, Connor and Cheobawn talking non-stop all the way there, interrupted only occasionally by a question from the older members to clarify points in their tale. Tam was still trying to wrap his head around the fate of the spider eggs when they entered their dorm room. The object suspended in its cradle above the map table brought him up short.
“What …” he asked faintly, dismay written in every line of his body as he stared at the golden sphere. “Tell me you did not steal a com-ball from Mora’s office.”
“Mora gave it to us,” Cheobawn said, barely glancing up at it. “She said I am the only one that can hear what it has to say so I might as well keep it close. Put your bags down and come see the eggs.”
“Wait. Why would Mora give you a com-ball?” Megan asked, a pained look on her face, having obviously lost the thread of logic that had been intermittently running like a tangled string through the younger member’s rambling story.
“Because Ch’che asked for it,” Connor said. He shook his head as all three of the returning Pack members stared at him. “I don’t understand it either. The Coven has gone all soft in the he
ad since the tribunal.”
“Tribunal?” Tam said, horror replacing dismay. “What did you do that warranted a tribunal?”
“Were you not listening?” Cheobawn asked. “We had to get permission to save the eggs. Let’s go.”
“What is the rush?” Alain asked throwing open the doors to his sleep chamber and tossing his ditty bag onto his bed. “We have been eating nothing but boiled grains and yogurt for a hundred days. I want steak pie and berry cobbler and …”
“The eggs are hatching now,” Cheobawn said in exasperation as she tugged Tam towards clothes press. “Get out of those stupid pajamas and let’s go.”
Gudu was standing guard at the West Gate. He grinned at Cheobawn and reached out to tousle her golden curls.
“You’re late, pip squeak,” he said. “Zeff and Amabel have been out there for most of the last hour. Tam, Alain, good to see you out of lock down. Things went to pieces while you were gone. Good thing you have Connor so well trained. I would not have been so fortunate.”
Tam nodded stiffly and thanked the young Father when he handed him a tag for his Pack. Herding everyone out the gate, he punched Connor in the shoulder. Connor yelped and then grinned happily. Pinning Cheobawn with a stern look he asked the next question. “Why is Gudu so familiar with you?”
“He was very generous when we were in trouble and needed help,” Cheobawn said innocently.
“Get used to it,” Connor said. “She got half the dome involved in this last escapade. Blackwind owes everyone favors. We owe Ramhorn double for everything they did. Tomorrow Sigrid is taking the babies down the Escarpment for us.”
“Why? Why not the older, more experienced Fathers or the First Prime?” Alain asked, puzzled.
“Because,” Cheobawn said patiently, as if she had explained this a thousand times before, “Samwell Wheelwright knows and recognizes Sigrid and Sigrid has sworn on the heart of his Nestmother that he will not kill Sam no matter how impertinent and offensive his words might be. I cannot trust the other Fathers to do the same.”