by Marissa Burt
Wren didn’t wait to see what. She pulled the trigger on the crossbow, which blasted her off her feet and onto her bottom, and sent an arrow shooting skyward.
“Dust and Ashes!” a voice shouted. “Take that thing away from her. Auspex, is that you?” And then there were people there. People dressed in lavenders and grays that matched the forest. People with dirty faces that broke into wide smiles when they saw that she had been trying to protect Auspex. One of them came up to Wren. She looked like a grandmother, but she was lean and strong. She pulled Wren to her feet, eyeing her from head to toe with sharp blue eyes. Her voice was raspy, but it carried loud and clear through the woods. “Take them to the island.”
SIXTEEN
See a feather, pick it up.
Hide it, or you’ll have bad luck.
A dozen or so Outsiders surrounded Wren. A handful of them peeled off to fashion a makeshift carrier for Auspex, and the others fanned out through the forest, watching for predators.
“There was a boy with us,” Wren said to the Outsider nearest her, a middle-aged woman with hair cut short to frame her sunburned face. “My friend Simon. Have you seen him?” She dreaded the answer. If a hovercat had gotten to Simon . . .
“No,” the woman said, conferring with two of the other Outsiders, who then took off at a sprint. “But if he was in the woods, we will find his trail.” After that, Wren didn’t feel much like talking. She hoped Simon was somewhere safe.
The trees grew thinner, the purplevines melting into bare branches and slim trunks that looked like bamboo. The clear skies became visible once again. Wren guessed it must be nearing dusk. Near the outermost trees, a pearly lake glistened. As Wren drew near, she saw that it wasn’t in fact a lake but a moat. The nearly pink water stretched about twenty feet across. The closer they got, the clearer it became that the mountain she had seen from afar was really an island that sloped upward out of the center of the water.
As they approached, the Outsiders formed a tight circle around Wren and Auspex, the old woman who was clearly their leader at the forefront. Wren looked for a boat or a ferry or some such contrivance, but she was unprepared for what emerged from the water. First a periscope and then a shiny metal rod, followed by a round craft the size of a bus, which bobbed there like a forgotten bath toy. The Outsiders headed directly for it. The round glass window at the top hissed open, and they began to scale an exterior ladder one by one. Wren had plenty of time to watch them maneuver Auspex’s litter into the vessel, so when it was her turn she clambered up the ladder and down into the vessel like she had been doing it all her life.
The interior was more spacious than she’d expected. Long benches had been bolted to the metal floor on either side, and the Outsiders took their seats. It was as though entering the submarine had given the Outsiders permission to relax. Their taut expressions melted into smiles, and their bodies lolled against the hard steel walls. Some of them even began laughing at Auspex’s predicament.
“Never thought I’d see the day that Auspex fell in the woods,” a woman with raccoonlike circles under her eyes was saying.
“Aye.” A man with nearly orange hair chuckled. “And to think a Magician girl-apprentice saved his life.”
Wren prickled at this. The way he said “Magician girl-apprentice” did not sound like a compliment.
When the submersible jolted to life, bobbing like a cork and then plunging beneath the surface in a stomach-dropping descent, Wren scrambled against the wall, groping for a seat belt or a handhold until Raccoon Eyes laughed at her. Very slowly, very intentionally, Wren folded her arms, trying to act like diving down beneath a pink lake was something she did every day. For fun.
After its initial heart-stopping plunge, the submersible’s motion was remarkably smooth, whirring along as the older woman steered it from a command center near one of the regularly spaced round windows. Wren tuned out the joking Outsiders and strained her eyes for her first glimpse of alien aquatic life. Again, she thought of how much Simon would’ve enjoyed all this and felt a pang of worry for him. If only she could know he was safe! And then, selfishly: If only he were here with me!
A large, dark shadow swam by the window. It was close enough that Wren could discern jagged spikes and a tentacled tail, making her feel even more anxious and lonely. She found herself wishing not only for a friend but for something remotely Earthlike. A fish, perhaps, or even an octopus.
“Animachine within range,” the gray-haired woman said. “Speed warning.” The other Outsiders nonchalantly reached for the handholds that were, after all, neatly tucked into the wall above them. Wren grabbed hers tightly, avoiding the mocking gaze of Raccoon Eyes, as the gray-haired woman turned several knobs and the vessel bolted forward, away from the shadowy creature.
Raccoon Eyes was watching her closely. “There’s a spiroshark nearby,” she said. “It’ll attack the sub if we linger.”
Wren couldn’t tell if Raccoon Eyes was trying to be nice or not, but she decided that looking out the windows might not be the best idea.
Whatever the gray-haired woman had done was effective. After a few minutes, she announced that they were in the clear, and the vessel slowed, attaching to some unseen dock with a clang. Then the Outsiders were standing, hoisting Auspex’s litter, and clambering up and out. Wren lingered, watching Auspex’s unmoving form with wistful eyes. She had never thought of the man as friendly, but he at least had been somewhat familiar, and here she was alone once again.
“Coming, child?” the gray-haired woman said. She might have looked like a grandmother, but there was nothing grandmotherly about her. Her attitude demonstrated that she expected Wren to obey her commands. Wren nodded and followed the Outsider wordlessly out of the submarine. They had docked at the shore of an underground lake, and the others moved through a damp cavern to a rusted metal ladder and began to climb.
The world above was as different from the city of Nod as the city’s rainy skies were from the clear ones beyond its walls. The ground was covered with the spongy red bushes Wren had seen earlier, and the uneven terrain created a sloping terrace that stretched as far as Wren could see. The island itself must be quite big, and for all the Outsiders’ scorn for the city’s wall, they themselves were protected by a natural rocky formation that encircled their camp.
They walked down what must have been a thoroughfare, because dwellings flanked it on either side. They resembled earthen huts, but they were more organic, cut out of the terraced ground itself. There were other Earthlike things about the settlement. Clothing had been left flapping on lines to dry, and outside of every hut was an ordinary fire, where Outsiders had gathered for what seemed to be the evening meal. Some of them hailed the party returning from the submersible, and others merely stared at Wren.
A few of their party peeled off to disappear down side routes that hinted at many more dwellings, but Wren was sticking with Auspex. They walked for some time, until the hovels gave way to what looked like farmland, which sprawled out beneath the darkening sky. Beyond that were more dwellings, and some of these had bricks and stone worked into the exterior. In a few she even saw shiny glints of metal. The light was fading, so that by the time the gray-haired woman stopped, Wren couldn’t see much about her surroundings, except that they were in front of a long, low hovel. The gray-haired woman rapped firmly on the door, which opened to reveal a wizened old man who grinned toothlessly at them.
“Courage and Honor, Maya,” he said with a bow.
“Auspex is hurt,” Maya said. “And in need of a Healer.”
The ancient man bobbed his head, ushering in the litter-bearers, but Maya blocked Wren’s way when she moved to follow.
“No city dwellers here. No compromise,” Maya said.
The old man winked at Wren, but he said, “Of course, Maya.”
“Can you heal him?” Maya asked, but it sounded more like an order. “Send me status updates on Auspex’s recovery.” And Maya spun on one booted heel and stalked off into the darkness.
The ancient man shut the door in Wren’s face, and she stood there for a moment, wondering what exactly she was supposed to do. Until she heard Maya’s voice. “Come!” she barked.
Wren followed Maya through the darkness until she stopped in front of a nondescript hut with no fire blazing outside. The woman ushered Wren inside with an expression that brooked no disagreement.
In the dim interior, Wren could see the glowing coals of an untended fire, and the woman knelt, blowing on them and adding bits of the reddish shrubbery. The mantelpiece above held none of the gaslights and gadgets of Nod but was instead sparsely filled with homely, simple-looking things: a few clay dishes, plates, mugs, and a crude candelabra.
“Sit,” Maya said, pointing to a stool next to a rough wooden table. She adjusted a rack over the flames to fit a cauldron. As the fire warmed the room, Wren could better make out her surroundings. The hut was rounded like the terraces it was cut from, and the furniture and possessions that dotted its shelves were rudimentary. Some brightly painted pottery. A small stack of very weathered books. A lumpy mattress on the floor in one corner, and several garments hanging on pegs above it. Compared with the crowded halls of the Scavengers’ Nest, the Outsider dwelling was positively austere. Except for the wall of weapons. Crossbows of varying heights were hung in order of size next to ordinary bows and clusters of arrows. Swords and daggers hung from nails in between a few other weapons that Wren didn’t recognize.
“Do you admire my collection?” Maya said with the closest thing to a smile that Wren had seen from her.
“Um, yes,” Wren said. “It must be useful out here.” The woman was pouring cups of a steaming liquid that Wren accepted eagerly. The night air here was very cold, and she cupped the clay mug in her hands, soaking up its warmth. She heard the cry of a wild animal and shivered, but this time not from the cold. “Hovercats?” she asked, but the gray-haired woman only shrugged.
“The cries of the animachines are all alike.” She turned her unconcerned gaze on Wren. “They may look different, but they all die the same.”
“Ah,” said Wren, focusing on the tea in front of her. It smelled minty and tasted wonderful. “Will Auspex be okay?”
Maya’s face looked just as stern, but Wren noticed the skin around the woman’s eyes softening, maybe a sign of tenderness. “The Healer will do what he can. But if the hovercat bit him—” She shook her head. “How did you defeat it, child?”
All softness was gone, and Wren squirmed under her gaze. She instinctively touched the cord that hung around her neck. She could tell Maya about the stardust, but she didn’t think that was a good idea. To say that Auspex had seemed anti-stardust was an understatement; who knew what the other Outsiders would think? Wren listened to the cautious little voice inside that told her to take care.
“I’m not sure,” Wren said, which was true enough. The creature had basically evaporated into smoke. Even stardust didn’t normally do that. “I was so frightened.”
“You mastered your fear,” Maya said, and Wren detected a faint note of praise. “Admirable for one so young.”
“I guess so,” Wren said, fiddling with the mug. “I wouldn’t like to meet another hovercat, though, that’s for sure.”
“You might change your mind in time,” Maya said evenly. “There is great honor in fighting the animachines.”
“I guess. But is there another way to deal with them? With all the resources in Nod, surely something could be done?”
“And interact with those dust-handlers?” Maya spit on the floor with scorn. “I’d sooner deal with the cursed Alchemists than any stardust-wielding Magician.” She spit again at the word Alchemist, and Wren shifted uncomfortably in her chair. It was only in that moment that she realized she had expectations. She had expected the Outsiders to be “good guys”; that they would welcome her in and help her. Now she wondered if that was premature.
“I didn’t like killing it,” Wren said, thinking of how easily the creature had burned with the stardust. Though she was grateful Auspex was okay, she hated using the stardust as a weapon again. Was that how it would be for her from here on out? Stardust failing her unless she was using it to hurt another living thing? She hunched over her mug. Maybe the Outsiders weren’t so far off track. Maybe stardust was more of a curse than a gift.
“We might be able to make an Outsider of you, given time.” Maya’s lips curved fractionally upward, and Wren wondered if that was the closest thing to a smile she was going to get. “Auspex never brings city dwellers with him.” She took a sip of her drink, wincing at the heat. “Now. Why are you here?”
Wren wasn’t used to such bluntness, or the way in which Maya offered no smile to gentle her curiosity. She studied the amber liquid in her mug, wishing she knew the right thing to say. Should she mention the prisoners? Or Winter’s rally? She wished she knew more about the Outsiders and what their power structure was like.
“I’m looking for my friend. A girl named Robin.”
Maya’s face tightened imperceptibly at the name, which, given her stoicism, was probably the same as if anyone else had gasped out loud and fainted. “I know Robin,” Maya said.
“Is she here?” Wren half stood. “Somewhere in the village?”
“Sit down, child,” Maya said. “Robin hasn’t been to the village for six months or longer. She left to try to find allies among the city dwellers.” Maya’s scornful look showed what she thought of that. “If you were hoping for more,” she said, and shrugged, “I’m sorry. You’ve wasted your journey and risked your life in the forest for nothing.”
Wren sat back down heavily. Was that really it? Was this another dead end?
Maya stood and worked a pump at a washbasin, rinsing her mug and setting it to dry on a wooden frame. “You may stay with us and return to Nod with the next expedition. We have no use for curious bystanders. You’re either one of us or one of them. No compromise.”
Wren was tired enough to fall asleep, even on the hard, unwelcoming pallet Maya prepared for her by the fire. She burrowed under the fur blankets and shut her eyes tight. She was all alone. Cole and Mary were locked up in the House of Never. Jack, despite his heroic effort to give himself up to save her, might as well be dead for all that she knew. And Simon . . . her heart gave a throb of pain. She flipped over onto her other side. She wouldn’t think about Simon.
She woke several hours later, the pelts twisted around her frame and her face clammy with sweat. It had been another nightmare. A repeat of the one with the wall of water, only this time she didn’t wake until it crashed over her. She lay very still on her pallet, trying to calm her panicking body. You are in Maya’s hut, she reminded herself. In the Outsiders’ camp. The ominous wall of water wasn’t real, and the city of Nod was miles away. She studied the ceiling and the sparse shelves, waiting for her breathing to return to normal. The fire had burned low, only a few embers glowing in the small room. Suddenly, Wren shot up with a jolt, barking a quick cry of fear. That wasn’t just a shadow on the stool by the fire. It was a person. Watching her.
“Peace, child.” Maya’s voice came from the darkness. “And Courage.”
Wren gathered her jacket more tightly around her. “You were watching me?” Even though the room was warm, she felt a sudden chill.
“Keeping watch, you might say.” Maya fanned the embers into life and added a few twigs. “The night hag has been to call on you.”
“The what has done WHAT?” Wren didn’t feel any better at that pronouncement.
“The witch who brings the nightmares.” There was no empathy in Maya’s voice, only observation. “You were whimpering in your sleep. Tossing and turning like one flogged by Craven Fear herself.” The fire was stirring back to life, and its welcome, Earthlike warmth made Wren feel a bit calmer.
“The nightmares?” Wren thought the idea of a witch bringing them sounded more like folklore than fact.
“Have you not seen the taint of stardust?” Maya’s face was half cloaked in shadows. “Evil
things cause evil deeds, and the nightmares are yet another injury we can attribute to the city dwellers’ use of stardust.”
“Everyone in the city is having nightmares as well,” Wren said. “Why would they use stardust to hurt themselves?”
“I didn’t say they were doing it on purpose,” Maya said impatiently. “I said it was a side effect of stardust use.” She peered closer, her angular face jutting into the light of the fire. “You use stardust.”
Wren let out a wildly inappropriate nervous laugh. All she could think of was how fishlike Maya’s stern face seemed in that moment. “I’ve worked the stardust,” she admitted. “Though not very well. And lately not at all,” she added as an afterthought.
“A wise choice.” Maya’s face relaxed a bit at that. “Though the night hag haunts you yet. Take care, child. It is better to be done with stardust altogether. No compromise.” She got to her feet. “Not to worry. While you’re with us, we’ll train the desire out of you.”
“What?”
“Get up. Training began at dawn.” Maya drew aside an animal pelt that had been tacked over a hole in the dirt wall. Beyond, Wren could see the pale colors of the lightening sky.
Wren’s first full day among the Outsiders was long and hard, with little room to discover much about the Outsider plans to rescue the research subjects, let alone what had happened to Simon. There had been no word from him, and the Outsiders hadn’t found his trail in the woods. In the morning, when Wren pressed to go out and look for him herself, Maya scowled at her.
“Don’t be an idiot, child. The scouts will find his trail without the help of an ignorant city dweller.”
When Wren began to argue, Maya slammed her fist down on the table.