There was a face at the window above her, blocking out the faint light of night, and then the bright glow of yellow light suddenly in the cabin, spilling over walls and furniture, a table in the middle of the room. The light flicked off as quickly as it had come. “Looks okay. Nice table. Wouldn’t mind havin’ it in my place.”
“Make Pete an offer, It’s his, now.”
“Since when?”
“Since Savas left the cabin to him. See anything else in there?”
“Just old furniture and some dishes.”
“Let’s go. I’m gettin’ cold standin’ here.”
“I gotta piss,” said another man.
“So use the privy. Pete won’t mind.”
The dog was still barking and whining, but had been pulled several paces away from the cabin. A door banged outside.
“Watch out for the snakes in there!” Somebody laughed.
“They come after me, I’ll drown ’em,” came the muffled reply.
Baela let out her breath in a silent whistle, then the door banged again, and the voices were growing fainter along with snuffling sounds from the dog and the crunch of heavy boots on dry grass.
“Come on, let’s go. Damn dog can’t smell anything.”
“You’re just in a hurry to meet those Greek women, Jake. We’ll get back in time. They’re probably all fat and ugly, anyway. See any of them?”
“Just a little kid.”
“Jake likes ’em young,” said someone, and everyone laughed just as the dog let out a yelp and a howl.
“Here we go. They went up the hill right here. Come on, Roy!”
“Shit, I do hate climbing.”
The noises of crunching grass and breaking brush faded with the whining of the dog and muffled voices of the men, until the only sound was that of air caressing pine needles, and the ever so faint breathing of five Tenanken refugees locked in a darkened cabin.
They sat in silence, afraid to speak, wondering if Pegre would return before morning, but prepared for a long wait. They thought of sunlight, and the cave, tried to imagine standing in long grass in a valley they had seen only from a distance.
Baela shared their visions, quickly becoming bored with them because she had spent much time outside, had actually stood in the places they dreamed about. Her own thoughts returned to the great hunting bird, and this time she tried something new. She imagined she was the mother bird, felt herself springing from the nest with powerful legs and a down stroke of whistling wings pushing air beneath her. She arose in lazy circles, higher and higher, imagining the land dropping away until the trees were green dots on yellow rock, and the canyon was a dark gash leading to a valley of rippling green and gold.
She felt wind pulling at the small feathers along her head, the tension as giant feathers in her wings tilted and spread to change speed and altitude, her body wobbling from side to side as updrafts came and went, and she spotted something moving across the valley in a rhythm telling her it was a rabbit. She steadied herself, wings outstretched and motionless, focusing keen eyes on the target, then suddenly folding her wings tightly and dropping like a rock from the sky, the ground rushing up at her before she deployed a wing to brake and maneuver as the rabbit changed direction, then she was dropping again, her victim coming towards her in a blur, and—
“Ohhh!” cried out somebody in the cabin, and was instantly shushed into silence by the others. Baela was startled from her vision, Eagle and rabbit popping out of existence and leaving her shaking in the cold room. Quick breathing in the darkness, some of it her own in frustration and anger at the intrusion of the outcry. Her pleasure had been ruined. Heart pounding, she bit her lip to force back her anger, hugged herself tightly, and pouted—
At that instant, the familiar clattering of Pegre’s wagon came to their ears.
They all rushed to the windows, crowding each other for a look. Pegre hurried to the cabin, the door rattled, opened, and they streamed outside, babbling wildly in the Tenanken tongue while Baela sulked in the background. Pegre looked at her for help, but she offered none, and so he understood only a little about what had happened to them. It was enough.
They climbed into the wagon, Baela still pouting, sitting at the back and facing away from the others. She endured her mother’s squeals of fear and surprise until they reached the smoother road back to town. Mercifully, she was left alone on the long ride back to the ranch house, but out of the corner of her eye she could see the others watching her silently. Suddenly, she missed her hidey-tree where she could sit and see everything around: waving grass, trees, roiling clouds, and the animals. It was the place where she could dream her dreams. Alone.
By the time they reached town she was feeling better; her stomach growled, and hunger made her forget the anger. Her companions dozed, back-to-back in a huddle, and she watched their heads flop back and forth with each bump. As they finally approached the ranch, a tightness was again in her chest, and her breathing quickened at the sight of all the animals and carriages around the house filled with noisy Hinchai. Was there no need for privacy here?
Pegre parked outside the fence because there was no room left in the yard. The noise in the house came out through an open door, spilling over them in waves. Pegre smiled when they were standing together by the wagon, putting an arm around a young boy newly named Stefen, and taking Baela’s hand in his. “This is your new home, and these are your neighbors. See what a good time they’re having? Relax, and eat. Everyone wants you to be here.”
He led them inside.
People hardly noticed them come in.
Everywhere they looked were Tenanken surrounded by chattering Hinchai women, listening politely with little understanding, answering haltingly and using hands to help make a point, concentrating intensely but without fear. Pegre dragged them to a table filled with food, where a blonde woman, happy-faced and very pregnant with his child was pouring stew from a metal kettle into a giant crock, enveloping herself in steam. Baela’s smile was spontaneous, for she saw again the goodness in this woman, and had liked her the first instant of their meeting.
“And here’s Baela,” said Bernie, ladling out a bowl of stew for her. “Be sure to try one of these, too. Every little girl loves chocolate.” She popped something dark into Baela’s mouth, laughed when her eyes widened in delighted surprise at the taste, then led her, Pegre and her parents to a relatively quiet corner of the big room. While Baela shoveled food in her mouth, Pegre made the introductions to Bernie. Moog and Deda had become Michael and Dee Astosis, also from Rhodes, and like their daughter they were well rehearsed, falling easily into a halting conversation with the blonde woman. It was an interesting hour for Baela: stomach full of good foods, tastes she had never experienced, animated conversation. Exciting.
Someone shouted, “Hurry up, it’s gettin’ cold!” The front door had banged open, letting in a burst of cold air and several haggard-looking men wearing heavy boots and jackets. Faces burned red by wind chill, huffing and puffing dramatically, they removed gloves from their hands and stamped their feet on the hardwood floor. Gradually they paired up with women in the room, except for one, the thin, sharp-featured man with sad eyes who stood alone for a time by the stew crock, eating slowly and neatly until he saw Pegre and elbowed his way over to him.
“Hi, Jake. You’ve met Baela. These are her folks, Mike and Dee Astosis, and this is Jake Price, a close neighbor to us.”
Jake nodded politely at everyone. Baela sensed in him a desperate loneliness, a need to be close to someone. It made her sad.
“See anything?”
“Naw. We got as far as Cascade Creek, and the trail disappeared. Pretty sure they followed the creek before coming out again, so we’ll have to start all over in the morning. Bad cold out there.”
I recognize that voice, thought Baela. You were very close to me earlier tonight.
“Sorry I couldn’t go with,” said Pegre, “but I didn’t have much warning about my relatives arriving.”
/> “No problem. We’re meetin’ at the hotel seven in the morning, if you can come along. Personally, I think it’s a waste of time. Whoever we’re followin’ knows trackin’; for all I know, they was followin’ us tonight. Spooky out there.” Jake looked at Baela with the trace of a smile on his thin lips. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” said Baela, lowering her eyes.
Jake shook his head. “Never heard of a blonde Greek before. Learn somethin’ new every day. I’m ready for more coffee, How ’bout you?”
“I’m fine, Jake,” said Pegre.
“Well—nice talkin’ to y’all. I’m gonna get a cup.” He turned suddenly, and shuffled back to the table.
“Nice man,” said Bernie, “but a lonely man. Wish I could fix him up with someone, but he’s cautious now about getting involved.”
But Jake’s caution lasted only a few minutes.
They were still talking, Baela’s back towards the door, Bernie looking past her. Baela watched the blue eyes moving back and forth across the room, taking everything in, every face, every gesture, reading her guests by sight alone. Her eyes widened, lips curving into an expression of delight. “Oh, did you see that?”
“I saw,” said Pegre. “That’s Diana, and as far as I know she’s unattached.”
“He just said hello to her, and she hit him with a smile that would reduce most men to quivering jelly. What a beautiful smile.”
“I think he’s paralyzed,” said Pegre, and they both chuckled.
Baela looked slyly over one shoulder. The one they called Diana was leaning against the wall by the door, looking up at Jake Price bending near her, his one hand on the wall, trying very hard to smile. To Baela, the expression on Diana’s face was clear; she had looked into the man, and liked what she saw there. Jake was trying to relax without success: face flushed, eyes darting, coffee sloshing in the cup he held in a shaky hand. He mumbled some words, and then Diana touched him without moving. The wrinkles of tension in his face seemed to fade. His hand became steady, and he even laughed at some little thing she said. Baela watched all of this fascinated. I wish I could touch someone like that, but it may never be—because I was born a Hanken child.
The evening wore on, and yawns appeared. Gradually the crowd thinned to reveal Pete’s relatives sprawled in chairs, some asleep. Bernie hustled the rest of them out, tugging at Jake’s arm to finally pull him away from Diana and send him on his way with the promise of another visit soon. The door banged shut, and Bernie flopped into a chair, letting out a deep breath.
“Hoo, I can’t take much of this with the load I’m carryin’ around.”
“I’ll clean up,” said Pete.
“Pegre—I help,” said Baela enthusiastically.
“What did she call you?” Bernie looked curiously at Pete, then Baela.
“Pegre. It’s a kind of pet name from the old country. I don’t know what it means.”
“Oh. Well, it’s fine with me if you want to clean up. I’ve really had enough. Good night, all.” She stood up, walking over to Pegre and kissing him full on the mouth. “You too, whatever your name is. I’m glad your people are here.”
Bernie shuffled out of the room, looking tired, rubbing the back of her neck, and stretching tall. Her time is near, thought Baela. Very near.
Pegre had already settled those few Tenanken who were staying in the house. The rest, including Baela and her parents, would sleep in a single bunkhouse fifty yards up a grassy slope leading to rocky cliffs and the high maw of the canyon from which they had come only hours before. Pegre took them there, showed them how to work the lamps, a pump for running water, the indoor privy, all of which they found both fascinating and amusing, and the whole time they were getting settled someone was either pumping water or fiddling with a lamp while the rest murmured approvingly. When at last they had distributed themselves among the beds and figured out how to sleep in them, they sat down wearily and began removing their clothes. Pegre stood at the door, smiling, looking from one to the other, then suddenly surprising them.
“You see,” he said in the Tenanken tongue, “we are all together again.” And then he closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. The feelings of love, affection and unity washed over all of them. Baela strained mightily to project something wonderful in return, but all that seemed to come was a beautiful smile, and she was satisfied that Pegre saw it, for there was delight in his eyes. He turned down the lamps and closed the door softly behind him. In only minutes the exhausted refugees were sound asleep.
Baela hovered at the edge of consciousness, hearing the deep breathing sounds, the unfamiliar squeak of a bedspring, the rustling of sheets and blankets as someone shifted position. The bird-vision came to her again, and she circled lazily, lazily, gaining altitude, soaring until she could see to all horizons.
A night cry startled her back towards consciousness. An agonized cry. Some animal—wounded. The sound had come down from the canyon, and she wondered why it vaguely disturbed her, but then she was soaring again, spinning dizzily, slipping into a sleep filled with visions of trees and sunlight, as seen through the eyes of a great hunting bird.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
HIDAIG’S DAY
Occupation of the caverns took place at dawn.
Hidaig moved swiftly and boldly, anticipating little opposition from the female-heavy band of his former Keeper, and though his warriors were not battle hardened, they had developed the hungry look that had to be dealt with if he were to maintain leadership. He sent forth one scout, a slender, rat-faced teenager named Dougal, who reported back that the caverns were quiet with no guards near the entrance, and so at dawn they pulled aside the entrance cover and marched inside without resistance. This was disappointing to the warriors, and particularly to Kretan, whole bloodlust was running hot after the slaying of Han. They turned into the tunnel without bothering to search Maki’s sleeping place, and marched straight into the main cavern dimly lit by torchlight.
It was empty.
Cold fire rings were scattered around the shelves, along with small caches of personal belongings, food, a few sleeping robes. Hidaig’s first thought was that Anka’s followers were hiding in the many fumaroles leading off in several directions, but search revealed only a few old ones who had reached the point in life at which one separates from family, and awaits death. No warriors there. Hidaig’s troops dragged them out in a line along the top shelf of the cavern, where their leader marched back and forth, mustering up his fiercest look and snapping his questions.
“Where did the others go, and when did they leave? Tell me, and I’ll spare your miserable lives and treat you well until your spirits soar. It is more than you can expect from Anka.”
No answer. There was silence in the great cavern, except for the sound of water dripping far back in a fumarole.
“Say something quickly, or you will die many times. Where did they go, and when?”
Silence. Not an eye moved. The old ones stared ahead as if blind. Hidaig pointed to one small female, wrinkled and bent, making a random choice. He chose Ba, grandmother of Baela, only to make a point, because he had no time for lengthy inquisitions. He looked at Kretan, and made a chopping motion with his hand. “This one,” he said dramatically.
Ba raised her eyes sorrowfully, never to see her grand daughter again, as Kretan stepped behind her, swinging his war axe horizontally against the base of her skull with a loud pop. Fragments of bone and brain splattered on the floor as she pitched forward on her face and lay still. The old ones began keening, tears in their eyes, wringing their hands in grief over the body.
“Once more,” said Hidaig, “I want to know where they went, and how long ago. Tell me, or you will all die like this one.”
They cried and screamed, going down on their knees, but not one would say a word. Hidaig repeated his question over and over in higher and higher tones, face reddening with anger. Still, they would not speak, and finally he could stand no more and screamed at Kretan, “ALL OF THEM!” The bi
g warrior obliged his master with a grin, swinging his axe in roundhouse arcs as someone began to scream.
“STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!”
The screams continued until the last old one had crashed to the floor. Hidaig jerked around to see Tel glaring at him from the entrance to a fumarole, teeth bared in a snarl, fingers entwined in her thick hair. “Murderer! You come here to kill the sick and helpless because you haven’t the courage to face a true warrior! Murderer! MURDERER! Your spirit will wander in torment, and I will spit on it when it passes me in the night! You disgrace all Tenanken left alive; their faces will turn away from you, and you will be Tenanken no more!” Her voice was a shriek, eyes twin beams of fire, face a hideous mask of something half Tenanken, half wolf as she stepped towards them, claws outstretched.
Hidaig stumbled backwards a step as she came at him. Kretan leaped to the line of warriors staring open-mouthed at the spectacle, and snatched up a spear, drawing back his arm to heave it at Tel.
“NO!” cried Hidaig hysterically. “NO! PUT IT DOWN!” Spittle flew from his mouth, his eyes rolling. “SHE IS A KEEPER!”
Kretan hesitated, holding his position, eyes locked on Tel, legs quivering with the tension of coiled muscles as he turned to follow her progress.
“Throw your weapon!” she screamed. “Kill me, too, and spend a spiritless eternity after death as a blind cave lizard licking bugs from the dirt. IT IS MY CURSE ON YOU!”
The huge warrior blanched white, lowering his spear ever so slightly, but holding his position while Hidaig stumbled out of her way as she knelt beside the bodies of the old ones.
“Oh—oh—ohhh,” she wailed. “What have we done to bring such evil among us? De? Ba? Show me a vision of my innocence, or invite me to soar with you....”
“What have you done?” The voice was soft from behind him, so that Hidaig twirled, nearly falling.
Anka’s moist, amber eyes gazed at him, full of sorrow. Maki came out of the darkness of a fumarole, from where he’d been awakened with his father. A spear was in his hand. While Tel keened her grief and anger, Maki stood by his father’s shoulder, eyes darting, suspicious, sensing betrayal.
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