Queens of Tristaine

by Cate Culpepper

  “And this little guy will be handy too.” Dana tickled the soft black hair on the baby’s head with uncharacteristic tenderness. “Jodey Elijah Junior.”

  “Named for my mom, really, not for me. Jodoch is the male form of Jocelyn.” Jode smiled at Jess sadly. “I sure miss her, Jess.”

  Kyla stopped stroking the puppy sleeping in her lap and laid her hand on Jode’s leg. “All of Tristaine misses her, sweetheart.” Though Jode was Jocelyn’s only child, she had been spiritual mother to dozens in their clan, and one of Shann’s most trusted advisers.

  Jess checked the lowering of the sun through the window. “We have a few hours until we move, adanin. We’ll spend them resting.”

  “Pam’s great grub brought me back to life, Jess.” Dana rubbed her belly. “I could stand to head out now.”

  Jess shook her head. “We’re on schedule, Dana, let’s stay with it. We won’t find rest again until we leave the City. We need to replenish our energies while we can.”

  “I’ll get the pickup ready,” Jode said. “Jess, I don’t like the idea of just dropping you guys off downtown. You won’t have any way of signaling for help if things go sour. What if your friends don’t meet you? If I went in with you, at least you’d have one more pair of—”

  “You’ll get no closer to the City than the edge of the Borough, Jodoch.” Jess swallowed and rubbed her throat. “You’ve risked enough for Tristaine, and your little one needs you home safe tonight.”

  Pam threw Jess a grateful look and rose from the sofa, balancing her gurgling infant easily. “All right, we have a baby to burp, and beds and a couch to make up. You,” she said to Dana, “will sleep on the floor. Grub, she calls my dinner.”

  “You never learn,” Kyla told Dana and knuckled her hair affectionately.

  *

  “Shanendra, he is my son.”

  There was no transition this time, and no sign of Elise. Brenna just suddenly found herself standing in a corner of Shann’s private cabin.

  She could see her mother seated in the wide padded chair near the dark fireplace. Shann’s head was resting against its high back, and her complexion was gray. But she gazed compassionately at the large warrior standing before her. Oisin and Jackson flanked Shann’s throne, and they looked much less sympathetic.

  “Perry, I know you cherish your son.” Shann lifted a small cup of steaming tea and sipped it before she continued. “Tristaine cherishes all her children. But you cannot take your family off the mesa.”

  “Lady, I’m Tristaine’s true daughter. I asked for this private council out of respect for your reign.” Perry’s large fists bunched at her sides. Brenna didn’t know this warrior well, except as a quiet woman who was intensely devoted to her adonai and their five-year-old child. “But I’m telling you that we’re leaving. Alex has blood kin in the settlement south of the gorge. We’ll go there.”

  “I’m not hearing much respect for our lady’s reign, warrior.” Jackson eyed Perry warily, her thumbs hooked in her belt. “You serve under Jesstin’s command, and we follow our queen’s will.”

  “Jesstin isn’t here.” There was a dangerous tension in Perry’s low voice. “And she took her top commanders with her. I don’t follow your orders, Jackson.”

  “Then you’ll abide mine, Amazon.” Oisin unsnapped the sheath on her belt, her threat unmistakable.

  Shann reached out weakly and touched Oisin’s arm, and she stepped back reluctantly. “Perry, all you will accomplish by leaving our village is bringing death to Alex’s kin. I’m sorry, adanin. But I will use all the force necessary to stop anyone who tries to leave Tristaine’s mesa.”

  Brenna saw the muscles in Perry’s jaw stand out, and for a moment she thought Oisin would have to draw her knife. “I’m not alone, Shanendra. It’s not just the women of the Mothers’ guild who chafe at your rule now. Many of our warriors are sick, but some of us still standing have young to protect. I pray you remember that.” The big Amazon straightened, nodded respectfully to Shann, and strode to the cabin’s door.

  Shann waited until it had closed and latched behind Perry. Then she rested her head on the chair’s back again and closed her eyes. “Jackson. Double the sentries around our periphery tonight. We must guard our boundaries closely until Brenna and Jess return.”

  “It’ll be done, lady.”

  “Thank you.” Shann smiled up at the young warriors. “You’ve both been a wonderful support these last frightening days. I’m going to check in on Samantha before I lie down.”

  Brenna saw Jackson and Oisin exchange concerned glances.

  “Carelle told us this morning your daughter is resting more comfortably, lady,” Oisin said. “Don’t you think you should sleep now?”

  “I’ll sleep better if I see my girl myself, adanin.” Shann grasped the arms of her chair and rose slowly. “Oisin, please go to our healers and ask if we should harvest more—”

  Brenna saw the color fall out of her mother’s face, and she tried to cry a warning she knew they couldn’t hear. Luckily Jackson’s reflexes were swift and sure, and she caught Shann as she fell.

  “Cripes!” Oisin gasped. She helped Jackson lower the queen gently to the white pine floor. “Jackson, find Aria and Sarah. Bring them here. And a healer. Go!”

  *

  “Brenna, Jesstin, it’s time to go.”

  Brenna felt Jode shake her awake gingerly, and Jess stirred against her on the narrow bed. Shivering, she turned into Jess’s arms and clung to her as Jode moved on to wake Kyla and Dana.

  “Bren?” Jess sounded alarmed. “Are you sick, lass?”

  “No. I’m okay.” Brenna didn’t want to move, but she had to. “Shann’s running out of time, Jesstin. Please, we have to move fast.”

  Chapter Nine

  Conversation was impossible while Jode’s flatbed pickup rattled over the poorly kept roads, the worst of the jarring potholes cushioned by the sleeping bags they lay on. Brenna sweltered in the close confines of the truck’s bed. The green tarp covering them was just inches above her nose, braced over plastic cartons at each corner. Jode had strewn small tools and sawdust over the tarp, effectively concealing the presence of the four women below.

  Brenna felt Kyla’s warm side on her left and Jess’s on her right and drew reassurance from the contact, hot or not. When the road began to smooth beneath them, she groped until she found Jess’s hand. “Darling. It’s like our first date.”

  She heard Jess’s rumble of grim amusement. Jode had helped them escape from the City in much this same way, and she was having flashbacks of green tarps and sick fear. Jess had to be affected by this claustrophobia more than any of them. The bed of the Army truck had been expansive compared to this close space.

  “Bren, are you sure she’ll be at this bar?” Kyla was invisible in the murk and barely audible over the thrumming of pavement beneath them. “Your friend?”

  “It’s Friday night,” Brenna said sadly. “She’ll be there. Are you sure you can find the utility doors at the back of the Civilian Unit?”

  “You drew out a good map of the Clinic’s compound.” Dana squirmed, grunting in the darkness.

  “You’re on my hair,” Kyla said.

  “Sorry.”

  “There’s plenty of cover behind the Clinic. You won’t lack for hiding places.” Brenna knew she was reassuring herself as well as her adanin. “No expense is spared when it comes to landscaping Government facilities.”

  “Brenna.” Jess sounded a bit hoarse. “Everyone down here has had this vaccine the Clinic brewed? Even those in the outer Boroughs?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. Inoculations are mandatory.” Brenna squeezed Jess’s hand. “I know. I worried about exposing Jode and his family too, but they’re protected.” A sudden chill worked through her as she remembered the faint rasp in Jess’s voice. “Jesstin. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fit enough for the night.”

  Brenna shuddered, fresh anxiety sinking into her gut. Then she slammed on her mental b
rakes, hard. Her imagination could not dwell on Jess in the grip of this lethal flu, not if she wanted to function.

  “We’re starting to hear traffic.” Jess shifted against her. “Brenna, you’re certain you can make safe passage from this tavern to the Clinic?”

  “Yes. It’s close, and I’ll start out well before curfew. We left plenty of time.” Brenna fingered the sheathed knife in her belt. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Just be sure we don’t have our butts wagging out there when curfew hits,” Dana grumbled. “Perimeter checks are done ten minutes after the siren at every base I’ve ever known.”

  The speed of the truck abruptly lessened, and Brenna’s throat went dry as Jode pulled off the pavement to park. The bed tipped slightly as he stepped out of the cab. The tarp rippled above them, and she felt a welcome gust of fresh air as Jode threw it back.

  “Downtown and points north,” Jode announced, cloaking his tension in joviality. “Everybody out.”

  Brenna sat up and searched the night sky, yearning for Tristaine’s starfield, and as expected, saw only a shroud of City smog. The polluted clouds were lit a dull gray from the murky illumination of streetlights. She pressed Jess’s hand one more time, then followed Kyla stiffly off the tailgate of the truck, steadied by Jode’s supporting arm. Her heart was beating a queasy tattoo in her breast.

  Jode had chosen their drop-off point well, deep in the shadows behind a large retail outlet. He closed the tailgate with a firm click, then joined them. They stood quietly for a moment, hands joined in the center of their circle.

  “Our thanks, Jodoch.” Jess cleared her throat. “You served Tristaine well. Now our trails part again. We’ll send you word when we can.”

  “See that you do, treetop.” Jode swallowed audibly. “Don’t get killed, please. And give my love to my Amazons.”

  Jess nodded and returned the gazes of her women. “We hold the life of our clan in our hands, adanin. May the Seven Sisters guide our path.”

  “Amen,” Kyla whispered. She hugged Jode in farewell, and Jess took Brenna in her arms.

  “Please, Gaia,” Brenna whispered into Jess’s shoulder. “Please don’t let me fuck up.”

  “You have all my faith, lass.” Jess kissed her, her lips lingering gently for a moment, and then she released her quickly.

  “Don’t you dare take any chances, Brenna.” Kyla held her. “No falling off cliffs, no jumping into rivers. Don’t you make me tell Sammy you got squashed by a City bus. I hate to let you out of my sight.”

  “I hate it, too.” Brenna sighed.

  Dana leaned over Kyla and kissed Brenna’s cheek. “You be safe, little sister.”

  “You too. I’ll see you in three hours.” Brenna threw Jess another look and made herself move.

  When she looked back moments later the shadows were empty, and gravel spun beneath the tires of a flatbed truck turning back toward home.

  *

  Brenna had convinced Jess and the others that she should approach Nell alone. The shock of seeing her again would be enough of a jolt to her friend’s fragile psyche without adding strange Amazons to the mix. She kept reminding herself of the wisdom of this strategy as she neared the entrance to Bruner’s, her craving for Jess’s protective presence as keen as thirst. She stared at her image reflected in the bar’s glass door, then pulled it open.

  The smell of alcohol was chemically pungent in the dim, high-ceilinged tavern, sparking in Brenna an almost atavistic revulsion. She used to inhale those stinging fumes as naturally as she now breathed Tristaine’s pure mountain air.

  Music from a jukebox jangled loudly from one corner. Whistles and sharp yells broke out as a new song started, evidence that the night’s liquid intake was well underway. The single large room was crowded and dank.

  Brenna found Nell where she thought she would, where Nell had been almost every Friday night for the last nine years. Many other nights too. She commanded a full booth without apology, her heavy backpack, filled with books, slung across the opposite seat.

  Brenna stood beside her table. She knew Nell realized someone was there, she just wasn’t looking up from her book in hopes that the intruder would go away. Brenna announced her presence the same way she had every time she’d joined Nell for a beer during medical school. She lifted her backpack, laid it gently on the seat next to Nell, and sat down opposite her.

  Nell’s eyes were owlish behind thick glasses as she glanced at the backpack beside her, then at Brenna. She jerked in her seat, her book clapping shut like gunshot, and hit the bottom of the table with her knee. The half-full pint near the edge of the table almost toppled, but Brenna righted it quickly.

  Nell seemed frozen for a moment, staring at her with a lack of comprehension that was almost bovine. Her friend had one of the finest clinical minds Brenna had ever known. Gaia grant it was still working under that alcoholic fog.

  “Sorry. Heightened startle reflex. It’s the meds.” Nell spoke in a monotone. She blinked at Brenna in incredulous silence.

  “Will you talk to me?” Brenna tried to keep her dismay out of her voice. She had prepared herself for the ravages four years might have wreaked on Nell’s appearance, but she was Brenna’s age and looked two decades older. “If you’re going to freak out or yell for help, Nell, let me walk away now.”

  Nell didn’t answer at once. She downed a few swallows of the dark ale Brenna had salvaged. “If I were in my right mind, I’d make you go. You’re taking a hell of a chance, Brenna, showing your face around here again. And you’re not only risking your own hide, but mine as well. What do you want?”

  “I need your help.” Brenna swallowed. “Nell, I want you to give me your keys to the Civilian Unit.”

  “Sure. Here you go.” A hint of Nell’s glittering intelligence appeared. “Why do you need them?”

  Brenna expelled a low breath. When Nell was calm and not too drunk, she could be reasoned with. “Because my family is at stake, and everyone I love. You’d be saving hundreds of lives, Nell. You don’t need to know more, and the less you know the better.”

  “So I can’t give away too much when the Fed’s goons interrogate me? Brenna, how can I even consider helping you?” Nell’s chewed fingertips gripped the edge of the table. “I’ve been through this once before. I was called in for three interviews after you disappeared. Because we worked together in Civilian, before you were transferred to Caster’s Military unit. They thought I knew something about—”

  “I’m sorry, Nell.” Brenna reached for Nell’s hand, and after a moment, she let her take it. “More sorry than I can say, for the trouble I brought you. And I can’t promise I’m not bringing you more now. But we’re desperate. Will you listen?”

  Nell looked down at Brenna’s hand covering her own and rubbed her forehead. “Yeah. Talk.”

  Brenna checked their surroundings, grateful for the general clamor of the bar, and leaned closer over the table. “You give your keys to me and go straight home. I’ll leave them under the pagoda, in the park across from the Clinic’s main entrance. Then show up to work Monday as usual. You never saw me.”

  “And what will I find out on Monday?” Nell slid her hand from beneath Brenna’s and lifted her glass again, draining it. “That political radicals have stolen a chemical weapon to wipe out the Army?”

  “All they’ll find missing is enough kestadine to save six hundred women and children. With luck, the Clinic will never learn who took it.”

  Brenna sat back, trying to calm her pounding heart. If Nell refused, they could get into the Clinic through the ventilation ducts. It could be done—probably—without triggering an alarm. But breaking into the pharmacy would sound sirens they had no way of disarming. Please, Brenna pleaded silently.

  “You said, ‘with luck.’” Nell smiled without humor. “Luck has not been my life’s forte, Brenna. What if you’re caught and they find my keys on you?”

  “At the first sign of trouble, your keys go into a medical waste drop shaft. You know Clinic o
rderlies aren’t paid enough to go through that slimy mess to find them.”

  She studied Nell’s closed face. She was alone in the world and bitterly unhappy since adolescence. But she was a good woman, and she became a medic for the same reasons Brenna had. Nursing political prisoners involved monitoring their physical interrogations, even in the Civilian unit. Seeing her patients tortured was shriveling Nell’s soul as surely as it had Brenna’s.

  “Six hundred lives,” Nell mumbled.

  A passing server plunked down a full pint of ale in front of Nell and collected her empty glass, an automatic refill born of long practice. Brenna shook her head when he raised an eyebrow at her, and he went on without comment.

  Nell reached for her backpack, and Brenna held her breath. She unzipped a side pocket, and drew out five silver and brass keys on a simple ring. She put them on the table in front of Brenna.

  Air gushed quietly out of Brenna’s lungs, and she curled the keys in her palm. She stared at Nell, a small spark of hope igniting inside her. “Nell, come with us.”

  “What?” Nell sat up, alarmed.

  “Not to the Clinic,” Brenna said quickly. “Join us later tonight. Come with us to the mountains, to our village. It’s a different life there. You could have a different life, honey.”

  “As a political criminal?”

  “As a free woman.” Brenna gripped Nell’s hand again. “Nell, there’s peace and beauty in Tristaine you will never know here. Please, think about it. What would you be leaving behind that you could possibly miss?”

  Nell said nothing, staring into her beer.

  “You could heal there,” Brenna whispered. “I have.”

  The chaos and noise in the bar faded, and the murky light dwindled down to illuminate this one booth and Nell’s worn face. They had never been the kind of friends who had heart to heart talks, she and Nell. They’d rarely spoken of their childhoods, and less of their dreams. They hadn’t even talked about work. They drank together to forget what happened there. But Nell was her friend, and Brenna hadn’t had many in the City.