Dreamwood

by Heather Mackey

  “Niwa!” Lucy cried out before the girl could disappear. For the first time since they’d been captured she felt some hope.

  The girl turned, surprise and recognition in her eyes. “Lucy?”

  For a split second, Niwa’s face lit up in a smile. Then, as she saw the raven men, her expression turned cool and forbidding. Her mouth compressed into a line, eyes like blades. She let loose a string of rapid questions in Lupine.

  The raven men answered hesitantly, with uneasy glances at one another. They were nervous, even a little scared of Niwa. And seeing this, Lucy was both proud that she knew the girl, and worried, too, remembering the way the lumberjacks on the train had been afraid they’d offended her.

  Niwa had grown impatient with what the men were telling her.

  “Now what is this?” Niwa asked Lucy. “You were on the sea bridge. Why?” The gold cuffs around her wrists gleamed as she crossed her arms.

  Pete spoke up. “That’s our business.” He stood close to Lucy; he was protecting her, she realized . . . which was sweet of him, but unnecessary.

  “We can talk to her, Pete,” Lucy said. “She’s the girl I was telling you about. The one I met on the train.”

  The leader of the raven men—perhaps sensing that he was about to lose control of his prisoners—barked, “We take them to Arekwoy.” He pulled roughly on Lucy’s arm and his henchmen grasped Pete.

  “No, you do not,” Niwa said haughtily. “I can do that myself.” She followed this with something quick and dismissive in Lupine. With angry looks the raven men turned and walked away.

  They were free. Lucy heaved a deep breath. “Thank you.” Niwa would get them out of here. “I don’t know what we would have done if we hadn’t seen you.” There was so much to tell her. And so much she wanted to ask. “I don’t know why those men stopped us. We were just—”

  Niwa quickly raised a hand. “Don’t speak here,” she said in a rasping whisper. She looked up and down the corridor. “Follow me.”

  The Lupine girl swept ahead down the leather-paneled corridor . . . Presumably she was leading them to the exit? Lucy felt the first twinge of doubt.

  Pete muttered, “Don’t think we’ve got a choice.” He fell in line behind Lucy and they followed Niwa through the maze of hallways.

  They came to an opening in the skin wall. Niwa stopped with her hand on the flap as if compelled to make some explanation for her behavior. “The red sickness has spread so far the clan leaders have come together to decide what to do,” she said. “That you are here and coming from the sea bridge at this time . . . Some will see a meaning in that and try to use it.” Her eyes lowered. Then, as if not trusting herself to say more, Niwa lifted the edge for them.

  There was an instant before they ducked beneath the skin curtain that Lucy and Pete looked at each other. How could their presence on the sea bridge mean anything to the Lupines?

  There was no chance to talk. They entered a room so large and packed with curiosities, Lucy had the oddest sense they’d entered a Lupine museum.

  But no. In the center a man sat at a desk, writing. Lucy was aware of several things at once. He was in a wheelchair and was old—gray braids came nearly to his elbows—and yet, despite that, she had the impression that he was the most important person in this lodge.

  Around him the room was cluttered with shiny, obviously precious things scattered carelessly about: crystal goblets jumbled on a shelf and silver platters stacked like newspapers. But here and there were a few old and rather used-looking objects. A ratty feathered headdress hung on one wall next to a dusty mask. And Lucy, who had seen ceremonial artifacts before, guessed that these were the room’s real treasures.

  As they came in, the man looked up. “What’s this? Who are these children?” He had piercing eyes, so dark they appeared black, which shone from under the brim of his homburg hat. Around his neck he wore an elaborate necklace of polished wood and shell.

  Niwa answered. “This is Lucy, from the train. And . . .” She frowned at Pete.

  “And I’m Pete Knightly,” Pete said, planting his feet apart and crossing his arms, “from Pentland.” He had taken in the room in big, wary sweeps.

  The old man regarded them without surprise . . . but without any detectable welcome, either. “I am Governor Arekwoy, leader of the Lupine Nation,” he said with stiff formality. “Are you the reason my daughter has not yet changed clothes for dinner tonight?”

  Daughter! Lucy looked at Niwa, the Lupine girl standing so straight and poised, her long dark hair with its woven charms framing her face. Lucy had thought the girl held herself like a queen—she wasn’t that far off.

  “Greetings, Governor,” Lucy said with a curtsy, although she felt ridiculous executing such a movement in her thick dungarees and soggy shirt. Her thoughts were racing—be polite, diplomatic, flattering, but not overtly fawning . . . help! Was there a certain protocol for talking to First Peoples heads of state? Probably, although she didn’t know it. She would have to hope for the best. “We didn’t mean to delay your daughter, sir, but our business can’t wait.”

  “You were on our land without permission,” the governor said, studying them as if they presented a particularly vexing puzzle. “What’s more you were caught trying to go to a place that has been forbidden to our people for generations.”

  Lucy felt a weight settle on her as she realized what his words meant. The governor already knew where they’d been trying to go and the raven men were his men. Now she understood why Niwa had looked so troubled.

  Governor Arekwoy clasped his hands together. “Traditionally the penalty for trying to cross the sea bridge has been death.”

  Death.

  “Just for crossing that little bit of rock?” Lucy burst out before she could stop herself. She paced to the edge of the governor’s desk. It was covered in neat stacks of paper, and a carved stone fetish of a bear stood at one corner. “Yes,” the governor said coldly. Even the deep wrinkles in his cheeks seemed to contract with disapproval. “Death. That is how serious an offense you have committed. But we are in the modern world and no longer punish trespassers in that manner.” He sighed, perhaps regretting this. “You will spend the night in my lodge. In the morning I will send you home to your families.”

  He bent once again to the document he’d been reading, picked up his pen, and gave his signature with a flourish. The nib scratched violently against the paper—the only indication he gave of being annoyed.

  “Excuse me,” Lucy said, feeling her cheeks grow hot. “But you have to let us cross that bridge, sir.” She twisted her hands together as if they could hold back the outburst that was building.

  Niwa stepped forward on silent feet and put a warning hand on Lucy’s shoulder.

  “Have to?” he asked icily. “Why is that?” He looked down his nose at Lucy and she felt herself quail under his gaze.

  Lucy swallowed. “My father went there, sir. William Darrington, the inventor.”

  Governor Arekwoy shook his head. “The bridge is guarded. You must look for him somewhere else.”

  “No, he’s there all right,” Lucy said stubbornly. Here she went, contradicting the head of the Lupine Nation, but Lucy felt more sure of herself now that she was talking about her father. “He’s resourceful. Once, we were trying to get to a haunted fort in Florida—only it was surrounded by swampland just crawling with alligators. And you know what? He talked a carnival into lending us a hot-air balloon and we flew to the fort. So I know he’s on the Thumb, sir, sea bridge or not.”

  But the governor was not moved by stories of hot-air balloons. “It does not matter. There are other ways there, but they all bring death.” For the first time the governor looked at her with a measure of compassion.

  It lasted only a second, however. He turned to his daughter. “Take them away.”

  Niwa pressed her lips together and shot an agoni
zed look at Lucy. Then the same girl who had tossed her head and told Lucy she would live her own way nodded obediently. “Yes, Father.”

  “No, wait.” Lucy had to think of something. She remembered what Niwa had said: The red sickness has spread to the trees down the coast. She blurted out, “There’s dreamwood on the Thumb and it’s the cure for Rust.”

  Niwa startled. Governor Arekwoy said something under his breath that sounded like a curse. If Lucy didn’t know dreamwood was so valuable she would have thought he was frightened.

  Maybe they didn’t believe her. “I’ll prove it to you,” Lucy said, feeling desperate.

  Lucy dug through her pack and produced the vitometer. She held the brass disc on the palm of her hand, and felt its mysterious whir, as if a bird were trapped inside. Solemnly, Lucy raised the lid revealing an ivory face, like a clock’s, inscribed with spidery black markings. A thin brass needle hovered above the surface, then began a tentative dance, ticking over the compass points.

  Niwa and Pete huddled around her, and even the governor—although at first reluctant—leaned forward in his seat to see.

  “This is an instrument my father made to measure changes in life energy,” she told them. “According to his notes, dreamwood carries a very high charge, more than anything he’s ever seen.”

  After a moment, the needle settled, although the disc continued to vibrate.

  “Which direction is this?” Lucy asked.

  “The direction of the setting sun,” Niwa said, shooting a significant glance toward her father.

  “You see!” Lucy exclaimed. “West, the direction of the Thumb. The closer we get, the more it will vibrate. It will lead us to dreamwood and my father.”

  The two Lupines were silent. Seeing their expressions, Lucy closed the disc. What was wrong?

  “Don’t you want there to be dreamwood?” she asked, slumping inside her shapeless clothes.

  “Dreamwood.” Governor Arekwoy rubbed his hands together in a gesture that made him suddenly look old. “You should call it nightmare. We believe—we fear—that one tree remains. But such a tree is more dangerous than you can imagine.”

  Lucy didn’t understand. Dreamwood—she still remembered her first sip of Ulfric’s tea, the glistening web that made his toys move—was wonderful.

  “But dreamwood heals,” she said, turning to look between Niwa and her father.

  “Yes,” Niwa said, her slender neck glowing in the lamplight. “His-sey-ak could help us.”

  “His-sey-ak destroys.” Governor Arekwoy looked at them from under the brim of his hat. His eyes fell upon Niwa, and Lucy had the impression this conversation was something he long dreaded. “That is dreamwood’s name in our language. The name of the dreamwood spirit. He is the Devil of Devil’s Thumb.”

  Lucy could feel her mouth hang open stupidly. This made no sense. And just as it made no sense, at the same time it brought up old memories of the Maran Boulder—the ancient hunger she’d felt coming from the rock, a sense of something alien and dangerous. But dreamwood wasn’t like that at all. She was going to tell the governor so, when the flap to the room opened and a man came in, bowing his head and saying something in Lupine.

  The Governor listened, then nodded. “I must go,” he told them. He wheeled himself from around his desk, his broad upper body dwarfing two thin and childlike legs.

  As he left he turned around one last time. He spoke to his daughter. “Send them home.”

  The creak of the governor’s wheelchair faded away. The three of them were left in the room with its strange, half-shadowed treasures and lamplight as rich as gold.

  Lucy looked quickly at Pete. They could not get sent back. He nodded at her. So they were decided, then.

  “We’re leaving,” she told Niwa. “But we’re not going back to Pentland.”

  “And don’t try to stop us,” Pete said. He stepped behind a wooden music stand, as if that would defend him.

  Niwa looked between the two of them, tilting her sleek dark head to the side. “Do not think you have to fight me, settlers.” She gave the faintest hint of a smile. “I am coming with you.”

  In her relief Lucy almost knocked over the carved stone bear on the governor’s desk. “You are?” Lucy broke into a grin.

  “You are?” Pete furrowed his brow.

  “Yes—”

  Voices sounded outside the passageway, and for a moment the three of them froze. But whoever was talking passed them by.

  Niwa continued more softly, drawing closer to them; she smelled of wild sage and soft leather. “Do you know what is happening here? They are meeting in council to decide whether to cut all our trees. Nobody knows what to do. My father wants to wait. Maybe the red sickness will slow down and kill not so many trees. But others say it is already too late. I will go with you and stop it.”

  Lucy was pleased—if a bit taken aback by Niwa’s certainty. After all, Pete had laughed at her the first time she’d told him of her theory. But the Lupine girl seemed perfectly convinced.

  “Your father seemed like he didn’t want to believe me,” Lucy remarked, hoping Niwa would offer an explanation for the governor’s behavior. She could understand that a nature spirit lived in dreamwood—that was like the Maran Boulder. But she didn’t understand why the governor had called the dreamwood spirit a devil.

  “Yes,” Niwa said brusquely. “Many people are afraid of His-sey-ak. He used to allow people to live with him. But now my father thinks he wants them to die.”

  Lucy shot a quick glance at Pete, who now looked as if he needed the music stand to steady himself. “That seems like a good reason to be afraid . . . ” Lucy began hesitantly. She stopped when she saw what Niwa was doing.

  The Lupine girl had unslung from her shoulder the leather bag that she wore, and to Lucy’s surprise began to fill it with precious objects. “Help me,” she said, looking up at Lucy.

  Pete went right to the skin door, clearly not liking this new development. If they were already in trouble for trying to cross the sea bridge, how would the governor react if they were caught stealing from his office? He raised his eyebrows significantly at Lucy.

  “Niwa, what are you doing?” Lucy asked, taking a cautious step toward her.

  “We must have offerings,” Niwa replied as if this were obvious. She stepped lightly around the room like a cat burglar, quickly sweeping up whatever valuables she could find. Eagle feathers, a carved stone whale, a small dagger with a jewel-encrusted hilt. She stood for a moment in front of a glass-fronted cabinet and scrutinized its contents.

  “Offerings for what?” Lucy asked uneasily. Ulfric had said nothing about making offerings.

  Niwa ignored her. Reaching into the cabinet she brought out a small porcelain figurine. It was a laughing shepherdess in a froth of pastel petticoats and ribbons.

  “Is this precious?” she demanded of Lucy, waving the little shepherdess in the air. “Does it have power? A duke sent it from France so I hope it has something. It is pointless otherwise.”

  Lucy felt woefully unprepared to comment on the figurine’s power—or lack thereof. She crinkled her nose and tried to think of the correct response. What was one to make of such a dainty, delicate thing except that whoever made it had no idea what a shepherdess actually looked like? “I don’t know. But it’s probably worth a lot.”

  “Hm.” After a moment’s consideration, Niwa put it back on the shelf and examined some silver cutlery. She swept the larger pieces into her sack and then took it all to her father’s desk, where she began to go through it, looking at the same time both girlish and fierce—like a teenage pirate chief.

  Lucy’s anxiety grew and she tugged at the buttons on her flannel shirt. “Niwa, we should go.”

  “Yes. Yes.” Niwa hooked one gleaming lock of hair behind her ear. “Don’t you have anything?” She looked pointedly at Lucy and Pete.


  Pete squirmed like someone with fleas. “Erm, to offer? We still have some money, I guess.” He looked at Lucy and shrugged. He stood by the door, ready to make a quick exit if necessary.

  “And I’ve got some of my father’s instruments,” Lucy said, even though she did not want to contribute them.

  To her relief, Niwa frowned in a way that told Lucy these offerings would not be acceptable.

  “Perhaps what I bring will be enough.” Her glossy brows flexed like bird wings. Then, making a quick decision, she wrenched off one of her gold wrist cuffs and added it to her plunder.

  “But why do we need offerings?” Lucy asked in frustration.

  Niwa’s dark eyes widened in surprise at the note of protest in Lucy’s voice. “How much do you know about dreamwood?”

  “It’s better than gold,” Pete said from the door.

  “It gives you strength and hope,” Lucy said quickly; she didn’t want Pete to appear crass. “And it’s a carrier for spirit energy.”

  “Those things are true, but there is much more than that.” Niwa stood up and again a slightly mischievous smile flickered across her face. “I’ll show you.”

  Reluctantly Pete left his station by the exit, and he and Lucy followed Niwa to a corner of the room dominated by a large armoire, inlaid with chevrons of ivory and a polished black wood. Stealthily the Lupine girl bent to its lower half, unlatching the door. A squat metal safe lay behind it.

  With the air of a magician about to perform a dazzling trick, Niwa produced a key from a cord around her neck and fitted it into the lock.

  Inside were stacked trays of black velvet. The first contained an oblong wooden mask with a severe expression. The face was vaguely human, with empty black eyes. The wood was soft and creamy looking and shone like gold.

  Only it wasn’t gold. Lucy could feel that from two feet away. She swallowed, feeling a slight buzzing in her ears as if the sound of the blood rushing through her body had been amplified a hundred times.