by Joni Sensel
Feeling her at his elbow, he pushed her an arm’s length back toward Willow.
“Aye, inside to our halls,” came the woman’s voice again. “We can get a good look at each other, and Mo will stop acting like he’s about to crack your heads.”
“That don’t mean we’re friendly,” the man added sternly. “But if you’ll mind manners for a moment, so can we.”
The hostility had already worn through Scarl’s meager patience. Ariel could see from his posture that he meant to reply with hot words. She clutched his arm to stop him, sorry the darkness prevented them from communicating with only their faces.
He pulled free and growled, “This doesn’t feel right to me.”
“I’m scared, too,” she whispered. “But I think we should go with them. At least, that’s what my feet want to do.”
CHAPTER 31
Dog Moon and Strife
Ariel knew Scarl had never doubted her more, but after a long hesitation he returned his knife to its sheath. His hand on its hilt, he waited silently for what happened next. She held her breath but stood her ground as the two shadows neared them.
The man and woman stopped just beyond the reach of a handshake. The bare-chested man was hefty and hairy and much younger than the thin, careworn woman. He gripped a formidable metal pipe that rested on his shoulder, but she clasped her hands almost in pleading.
“You see,” she murmured to the man. “They’re people like us. A family, mayhap.”
“Odd family.” His face almost lost in an orange beard, he peered up at Sienna. “That the Farwalker, on the beast?”
Ariel spoke fast. “No. Me.”
Both strangers regarded her like an unfamiliar bug that might bite.
“Meet the boogeyman face-to-face,” the woman said, “and it isn’t so bad.”
“We’ll see,” he muttered. “How’d you get past the Reapers?”
Ariel’s mind raced. “You mean where everything was burned? So your people did that?”
“Not ours, exactly,” said the woman. “We let ’em in during winter. They bring meat. And their work helps protect us.”
The man snorted. “They’re like fleas on a dog. Worse. Never mind. Since they must not ’a reaped you, it ain’t none of your business. Come on.”
“We’ve given our names.” Scarl’s voice held an edge. “Will you let us have yours?”
“Time for that inside, in the light.”
“My son Mo, and I’m Trisha,” said the woman. “Fishers. Come along.” She turned to lead them. The man stepped aside so he could take up the rear. Scarl motioned Nace into the front with Willow and Sienna. Then he nudged Ariel and fell in behind her.
“If we step off the path that you feel in your feet,” he growled in her ear, “I want to know the instant it happens.”
Ariel nodded. She returned Mo’s frank stare as she passed him. Though it felt like a fib, she flashed him an amiable grin. He flinched.
They climbed up an outcrop of rock and a few moments later stood at a convergence of the water wall and the slope. The wall was as thick as the largest house Ariel had ever seen. At the far edge, beyond a fence of metal pipe not unlike Mo’s club, she could feel the vacant air of a steep drop. In the near end of the wall stood a door. Sienna couldn’t keep her eyes off the tiny, bright fire in a jar hanging over the doorway. Amazement and questions, both barely contained, flittered over her face.
Scarl studied the door and the building and gave Ariel a grim look.
“We have to,” she said under her breath. His reluctance frightened her more than the door. In fact, if she’d dared to open it herself, she would have. Both her curiosity and her path called her forward. Required to wait, her toes curled in her boots.
“That thing is too big to go in.” Trisha gestured at Willow.
“Haven’t you ever heard of a horse?” Ariel asked. She’d visited places that kept few animals, but even villagers without horses of their own had known what they were.
A scowl compressed the woman’s face.
Regretting her question, Ariel pushed a wry smile to her lips. “He’s a good horse, but he probably wouldn’t go in even if we wanted him to.”
Through clenched teeth, Scarl said, “We can tie him here to the rail.”
Sienna slid down. While Nace secured Willow’s reins, the Finder moved to unlash their bags.
“Never mind that,” Mo told him. “You won’t need nothing you’ve got there inside. I said don’t!”
Scarl spun. Mo took a step back and brandished his pipe.
“Look,” Scarl said, his voice quiet but deadly. “I’m wearing the only weapon we have, and we’ve gotten this far without testing mine against yours. There are things here we don’t want to lose. We’ll bring them.”
Unable to remain still in the wave of tension that followed, Sienna quivered and clutched Ariel’s arm. Nace didn’t even glance up from his hands, frozen in midknot. Yet his entire body went taut, ready to spring.
Afraid the slightest motion would set the men off, Ariel barely parted her lips to point out, “We’ve done everything else that you’ve asked.” She was more concerned about Scarl than their gear, but she knew she couldn’t ask him to back down again.
Looking equally worried, Trisha murmured Mo’s name.
The big redhead’s fingers tightened on his pipe. Its tip bounced in the air. Yet Scarl must have seen something in Mo’s eyes that reassured him enough to turn one shoulder, if not his back. He reached again for the lashings holding their gear. The pipe remained poised, but it stilled. The travelers each soon hefted their packs, save Nace, who had none. Too heavy to easily carry, Sienna’s trade gear was left on the horse.
Trisha reached for the door handle. The door opened on a small, bright space made of the same gray stone as the exterior walls. Remarkably flat and smooth, the room looked to Ariel more like the inside of a sand castle than anything built of stone. It was nearly as empty. The space held nothing but chunky stairs that descended immediately beyond the door.
Scarl gripped Ariel’s shoulder from behind. She didn’t need to see him to know he questioned entering a place that would obviously be so difficult to escape from. She didn’t think Mo and Trisha offered any choice, short of a fight. But she took a deep breath and confirmed the sense in her feet: Go. She jerked a tiny nod before she stepped forward from under Scarl’s fingers.
She ducked through the doorway and followed Trisha down the stairs. Coming last, Mo yanked the door shut behind them. It banged like the lid to a tomb.
They descended, it seemed, to the center of the earth. Ariel had never seen so many stairs, which twisted a corner every dozen steps. Hollow echoes rose behind them. The way stretched wide enough to descend two by two, and she welcomed the tight grasp of Sienna’s hand. She could see Sienna trying not to wince at each bend of her burned, weeping legs.
They reached a landing with a door. Looking down over a rail, Ariel saw more landings below. This door opened on a huge, echoing hallway like a great cave. But the walls were smooth and flat, their corners square, and lectrick fires dotted the ceiling. Along one side sat a row of rounded metal shapes as big as cottages. Ariel gasped. Tucked between them, behind curtains and lean-to walls, people lived. Ariel saw no hearths, garden plots, or livestock, but at least two dozen families filled the strange cavern.
“The whole village is down here?” Ariel asked. Voices murmured from corners, and the smell of cooked fish awoke a growl in her stomach.
“Haven’t you ever heard of a dam?” sneered Trisha.
“Sure, with beavers living in it,” Sienna said under her breath. “Not people.”
Though she had to agree, Ariel hoped to win over Trisha. She said, “No, but it looks nice. Is that what you call your village? Dam?”
Trish snorted. “No, goose girl, this is the dam.” She waved at the structure around them. “The name is Electron.”
“Lectrick,” echoed Sienna.
A shadow fell over Trisha’s face. She urged them fo
rward and called to the first adult she saw. “Run and hail the master. We found strangers.”
The word “strangers” flashed through Electron like lightning. By the time the group reached the middle of the great hall, flocks of children and adults lined their path. Despite what seemed a warm and dry place to live, or maybe because of it, their clothing was skimpy and ragged. Like Mo, most of the men went bare chested. Everyone’s skin was quite pale, almost bleached, except for rosy cheeks. They were thin, though. The only decoration or jewelry Ariel noticed were fishhooks through earlobes. Those looked like they’d hurt.
Although the crowd’s attention included no smiles, her fear receded. She heard Scarl, behind Sienna, exhale a lungful of tension as well. They were both accustomed to a curious mob. And although the vast hall and its strange shapes in no way resembled a normal village, the presence of children lifted some of the threat.
Nobody dared to touch, but the onlookers raked the newcomers with sharp eyes. Questions and unkind remarks flew. Trisha and Mo ignored the hubbub completely. Ariel smiled hard and told the friendlier faces that they were visitors from far away. Sienna, who glowed in the attention, had fewer qualms. Scarl had to keep prodding her forward as she lagged to introduce herself, especially to young men.
Nace only hung on Ariel’s heels—until abruptly he whirled.
“What’s your problem?” asked a boy of similar age in the crowd. He glided forward to meet Nace’s glare. “You got trouble with the word ‘scarface,’ mayhap?”
Nace curled his upper lip. Ariel, who had also heard the mean words about her, reached for his arm. He’d slipped the wounded one out of his sling.
The Electron boy crooned, “S’matter? Cat got your tongue?”
Scarl pushed his way over, but not quickly enough. The boy flicked Nace in the cheek with a finger. Nace smacked the boy’s arm down. The boy lunged. His sneering lips met the Kincaller’s fist.
Ariel’s hands flew up to stop them, but she tangled in a flurry of elbows and curses. Village boys surged into the action. Something hard caught her temple. Reeling, she felt a yank from behind. Scarl shoved past her into the fray.
Pulled out of harm’s way, she caught a glint of Mo’s club as it drew back to swing.
“Don’t!” She flung herself toward him.
If she thought at all, it was to catch Mo’s arm before he could deliver his blow, but instinct forced her to duck her head out of its path. She fell about his legs, clutching his knees. Mo lurched and then recovered his balance. Ariel clung, her eyelids squeezed tight, dreading the thud of that pipe on flesh.
Instead, she felt it tap her ribs. She cracked open her eyes. Scowling down at her, Mo jerked his head for her to get off his feet.
Holding on through the weakness of relief, Ariel spun her face toward the fight. Nace wasn’t large and he had limited use of one arm, but he’d pounded the bigger boy back. A hail of blows thrown by others rained at him from either side, though. At last Scarl yanked him bodily out of the melee. Nace’s feet scraped and stumbled as the Finder spun him away and beyond the reach of any swing Mo still decided to take. A few of his opponent’s comrades gave chase. They backed off the instant Mo’s pipe raised again.
Nace squirmed so hard to escape Scarl’s grip that the Finder jerked him to the floor and pinned him there, shouting his name. Nace’s face formed a mask of frustrated fury, the more disturbing for its eerie silence. He gestured wildly toward the Electron boy, who mopped blood from his nose with the heel of his hand.
Scarl slapped down Nace’s gesture. “I don’t care!” he snarled. “You’re putting all of us in more danger—including her!”
That finally quelled Nace’s storm. Shortly Scarl helped him back to his feet. When he was sure punching would not start again, the Finder shoved Nace toward Sienna. She caught him and clutched, partly to keep him close and partly to soothe him. Breathing hard, he tipped his face to the floor, his eyes closed and his jaw clenched.
Scarl turned to Mo. Only then did Ariel release the man’s legs and scramble to her feet. Startled to discover her there, Scarl shot her a glare nearly equal to what he’d shown Nace.
“Thank you for your restraint,” he told Mo. “I’m indebted.”
“Like I said, strife.” Mo glowered at Nace. “Consider yourself lucky you still own a head, boy.”
“Yeah, you dumb—”
Mo spun to interrupt. “Your mouth began this, and don’t think I don’t know it,” he told Nace’s opponent. “I wouldn’t have let him whale on you as long as he did elsewise. Sounds to me like you’re asking for more. Or d’you want to be cast out with the Reapers?”
When the boy looked away, dabbing the corner of his mouth, Mo turned back to Scarl. “As for yours—”
“I have rope,” Scarl said quickly. “I’ll bind him if you’d feel better.”
“I’d rather you beat him.”
“Beating never fixed a brawler, and he’s still just a boy.” Scarl eyed Mo and then added, “I’m guessing you had your share of fistfights.”
The two men shared an almost friendly look. “Aye.”
A shrill whistle split the hall. When it died, a voice hollered from the far end. “Here, Mo! What’s going on?”
“Just gettin’ acquainted,” Mo grumbled. He jerked his head and herded them forward once more. A white-haired, chiseled man awaited, his hands on his hips. A beaver or mink fur draped his shoulders.
“Ennis Allcraft,” Mo murmured behind them. “Master of Electron. You seem to have a fair hand, Finder, so I’ll give you advice: be more humble with him than you have been with me.”
Even the people watching looked nervous now.
CHAPTER 32
Dog Moon and Grace
The master of Electron turned and strode before them. They reached the end of the great cavern, turned corners, climbed many steps, and passed through a much narrower hall. This one, frightening in its blankness, seemed to squeeze down upon Ariel before at last they reached another door at its end.
Trisha rushed forward to open it for Ennis. When it swung outward, he swept past.
Ariel stopped in her tracks. Scarl stumbled into her. The inner side of that door bore a section from her map.
Before she got more than a glimpse, Mo urged them into the room. Once inside, Ariel spun, but Mo closed the door, set his back to it, and folded his arms. His bulk blocked her view. With a twitch of his head, he directed her to face Ennis.
Too many other wonders vied for her attention. One wall was scattered with tiny colored lights like glowing berries, plus half circles with arrows and squares marked with symbols. A large section sat dark and still, but the rest reminded her of the flagstones at Tree-Singer Abbey, if the marks on the stones could have come to life, blinking and moving. The opposite wall, mostly glass, looked down a dizzy drop onto the great hall. Many people below had their faces turned upward as if awaiting what occurred there.
The white-haired master seated himself on a throne at a far corner of the room, crossing his arms. Trisha murmured in his ear and they both turned their gazes first on Ariel, then Scarl.
“Did the Finder guide the Farwalker here, or t’other way ’round?” Ennis’s voice was both sharper and colder than Ariel expected from a man of his years.
“Neither,” Scarl answered. “She walks where her feet take her. I just help as I can because she’s not yet of age.” He licked his lips, choosing words carefully. “But we’ve visited many places together, and I beg you to welcome her and hear the news she brings.”
Ennis scoffed. “Electron once had a room called a visitor’s center. But we haven’t had visitors since the days of my grandfather’s father. And the last met his fate on the spillway. The only thing I would hear from you, Farwalker, is why you should be any different.”
Afraid to say the wrong thing, Ariel shot a look at Scarl. He clamped his jaw and gave her an encouraging nod. He’d told her often that for farwalking matters, he trusted her instincts more than his own tongue.
Feeling like an ant about to be crushed by a boot, Ariel took a deep breath. By the time the air flowed back out, she’d decided not to say anything just yet. Although she thought briefly of the eel skull in her pack, her fingers reached to her new hair clips. Unfastening them, she stepped forward to give them to Ennis.
He narrowed his eyes at the glass in her hand and shot suspicious glances toward Trisha and Mo. They shrugged, baffled.
“We mostly bring gifts,” Ariel said. “These are almost the color of your lake and they’d look nice in your white hair. Will you accept them?”
A quizzical look flashed over his face. He looked askance once more at Mo.
The bearded man flapped one hand. “They’re strange.”
Except for a tremble in her outstretched fingers that she knew he could see, Ariel stood like a stone while Ennis stared her down. Although they were blue, his eyes might have belonged to a serpent for all of their warmth. Fighting a panicky impulse to retreat out of reach, she finally had to drop her gaze. But she kept her hand out.
At last Ennis plucked the glass from her palm. He inspected the clips, scorn on his face.
“I made those,” Sienna whispered.
Scarl twitched. Ariel knew he would silence Sienna if he dared. For the second time in an hour, though, Ariel thought the young woman’s instincts for when to be quiet and when to speak up might be considerably better than Scarl’s.
“Tell me, then, Flame-Mage,” Ennis said in a soft, venomous voice, “why I would want a girl’s hair pretties.”
Ariel heard the dry click in Sienna’s throat from three feet away.
“Because… even a place that has the lectrick needs beauty?” Sienna twisted her hands together and went on, more firmly. “They might be my best work so far, and you can’t say it’s not beautiful glass. Even if the master of Electron doesn’t want them, you must know a girl or woman here who would.”
Ennis pursed his lips.
Ariel saw the narrow opening. “We mean no harm to anyone,” she told him. “We’ll keep walking if you don’t want to speak with us, but we bring only goodwill from other villages and the news that the Vault has been found. But perhaps you—”