“Yes.”
“Right. I’ll drop by and see you again later today.” Lynn smiled a goodbye.
Natasha stood and stared at the door for some time after the Imprinter had gone. Everything had seemed so straightforward back at the temple in Landfall. Now there were five children she would be making orphans, and to her utter dismay, Natasha realized that Lynn gave every appearance of being a nice person.
*
After a few more days working with Lynn, Natasha was in despair. She envied the Guards in the companies sent to storm the walls. They had died for the Goddess, honestly and openly, without betraying anyone’s trust. Now she prayed that she would be given a supporting role in the assassinations.
Late one afternoon, Lynn called in at the barn with her youngest child, Becky, a toddler of three. The sheep had been out in the open fields and were being brought in for the night. Lynn and her daughter waited by the gate, watching. One of the older shepherds had come to help and continue Natasha’s training in the art of controlling sheepdogs. The lessons were fun, although Natasha would rather not have had an audience for her incompetence.
Natasha whistled what she hoped was the command for “Go left.” The sheepdog, Tipsy, lay down. Natasha knew it was a safe bet that she, rather than Tipsy, had made the mistake. The sheep took advantage of Tipsy’s obedience to make a bolt for a ditch. Natasha tried to work out the correct command to whistle. There were a number of signals the dogs understood, but none of them was “Do whatever you think best.” Which, to Natasha’s mind, was a big oversight, since Tipsy definitely had more idea of what to do than she did.
Becky gave a high-pitched giggle of excitement, jumping up and down. The elderly shepherd was no more restrained, bent double in laughter. But eventually, the gray-haired woman got her breath back and took pity on Natasha. After a few more helpful words of advice, the sheep were rounded up. A count revealed one missing.
“I’ll take Tipsy and go find it,” Natasha said.
“Becky and I will come too. In case you need help.” Lynn’s voice was gently teasing. Over the previous few days, Natasha’s lack of experience in handling sheep had become very obvious.
At the word of command, Tipsy set off in a straight line up the hillside. Lynn and Natasha followed, swinging Becky along between them. The child squealed with laughter as she kicked up snow. Bobbles of ice stuck to the fringe on her fur-lined snowsuit.
“Are sheep always this awkward, or is it due to them being imprinted?” Natasha asked.
Lynn threw back her head and laughed. “Does having a soul make you self-willed?”
“I didn’t mean I believed in...” Natasha broke off, wondering whether she had made a blunder and displayed her lack of knowledge of the heretics’ doctrine.
Lynn seemed unaware of any contradictions. “It’s just the way sheep are. Anyway, these adults are cloned. It’s the lambs they’re carrying that I’ve imprinted. The climate here is a bit more extreme than the Homelands. I’m trying to produce a hardier strain.”
“What will happen to the lambs when they’re born?” Natasha could not stop herself from asking.
“Are you worried someone will eat them?” Lynn responded quickly, but she was grinning. “You’re not the only one here with reservations about imprinted animals. Gina was convinced that the equation of uniqueness with having a soul was utter rubbish. But it’s one thing to know something rationally and another to act on it. The lambs will be kept for breeding. Their cloned offspring will be fair game for a stew, though. Which keeps everyone in Westernfort reasonably happy.”
Natasha thought of the horses killed in the avalanche. “Dani didn’t seem bothered in the slightest about eating imprinted animals.”
“Yes...well, she wouldn’t,” Lynn said. “Cloning humans is the other side of the debate.”
“Surely there aren’t...” Natasha’s words died as an appalling possibility occurred to her.
“We haven’t cloned anyone in Westernfort yet. But it may come to it.”
This did not answer Natasha’s question. Dani had been born in the Homelands. But before Natasha could begin to frame the words, Lynn continued, “I won’t last forever, and I doubt we’ll be able to help another Imprinter escape from the temple. It’s been the hardest dilemma of all. We gave a lot of thought to whether I should clone myself.”
Tipsy had led them to a small copse and disappeared into the trees. They let go of Becky’s hands, and the child scrambled forward beneath the branches, while the two adults forced their way forward more slowly through the tangle of twigs and knotted vines. Natasha was too confused to know what to say, but Lynn appeared not to notice and continued talking.
“Of course, there was no guarantee my clone would be an Imprinter, and it didn’t seem logical to create one clone to avoid making any others. In the end, we reached a compromise. Did you know Gina was originally an Imprinter?”
“Er...no.”
“She lost the ability due to a head injury, but it wouldn’t have affected her DNA. So we decided Gina would be gene mother to Becky.”
“Didn’t Kim mind?” Natasha was feeling dazed.
Lynn shook her head. “No. She was fond of Gina, and we already had four children. We’d both carried two, and...”
Suddenly, from up ahead, Tipsy erupted into furious barking. Becky shrieked and then stopped. At the sound, Natasha leapt forward, hurling herself through the trees, not noticing the branches whipping her face. She broke into a clearing where a huge dead tree had fallen and created a small landslide. Lynn was half a step behind her.
Becky stood in the open, five meters away, frozen in fear. Tipsy was tearing back and forth around the edge of the clearing, snarling at the animal crouched at bay with the dead sheep at its feet. It took Natasha several stunned seconds to recognize the beast as a mountain cat. Not that she had ever seen one before, but she had heard them described. The wild predator was much larger than Tipsy, with a dappled brown coat and long saber teeth. The animal was angry and agitated. Its eyes darted between dog and child.
“Becky...” Lynn began.
“Stay still, Becky!” Natasha snapped the order. Any sudden movement, and the cat might pounce. Natasha formed her lips into a circle and whistled. Instantly, Tipsy stopped cavorting, dropped to the ground, then looked at Natasha, tongue lolling in a canine grin, happy now that there was someone to take charge of this new game. Natasha pulled out her knife and whistled again, calling the dog on while she also advanced slowly. Lynn needed no instruction and took up a position between them, forming a row.
The cat watched them get closer. A low, threatening rumble sounded in its throat. The beast’s ribs were visible down its side, and its eyes were hazy. It was old, starving, and unpredictable. A young, fit cat would have run—would never have taken a sheep in the first place. Natasha wondered whether it had discovered that it could not eat the sheep and now thought the child a better prospect.
She whistled Tipsy on again. The dog shuffled forward on her belly. The cat snapped its teeth, half rose, and then retreated. Step by step, Natasha advanced, never taking her eyes off the cat. She passed the point where Becky was standing. The child tried to grab her leg. Natasha disentangled herself. She dared not take her eyes from the mountain cat. Then Lynn said, “It’s okay, I’ve got her.”
“Get her back to safety.”
“Won’t you—”
“Tipsy and I will cope with it.”
Natasha heard the sounds of Lynn’s cautious retreat. But what should she do next? If they all left the clearing, would the cat take it as a signal to attack? And she did not want to take the risk that Tipsy might bite the mountain cat. Wild animals were even more poisonous to domestic ones than the other way around. Maybe if they pushed the cat far enough, it would turn and run.
Natasha took more slow steps forward, using herself and Tipsy to drive it along the trunk of the fallen tree. The cat’s agitation grew, and it was less willing to back away. Natasha lifted her
foot again, but her toe caught under a branch. She looked down, her attention distracted for a second, and the cat pounced.
Guards were not trained in this sort of combat, but Natasha’s instincts were good. She threw up her left arm to protect her throat. The cat’s jaws locked onto it, teeth sinking through clothes and flesh. But Natasha’s other hand was free and punched forward with her dagger. The cat fell back with a yowl of pain. Natasha shifted her weight into a snap kick under its jaw. The force shot the cat’s head up, breaking its neck and somersaulting it backward to lie, unmoving, on the snow.
Tipsy gave a whine of disappointment that she had not been able to play as well, and Becky started crying.
“Jess! Are you all right?” Lynn hurried to her side.
“Yes. I’m…er...” Natasha looked down. Her sleeve was soaked in blood.
“Let me help.”
Natasha insisted that they move away from the dead mountain cat first; Tipsy was altogether too interested in the body. They didn’t stop until they reached the outer edge of the wood. Then Lynn took hold of Natasha’s hand and closed her eyes. The healer’s trance swept over her. Immediately, the burning in Natasha’s arm faded and disappeared. The adrenaline-induced shaking went also. Lynn continued to exert the healer sense long after Natasha felt fully better, but at last, she opened her eyes and released Natasha’s hand. Natasha knew that if she looked, the bite would be no more than a ring of clean scabs.
Becky’s crying had subsided to an intermittent grizzle. Lynn picked up her daughter and hugged her close, burying her face in the child’s neck. When she looked at Natasha again, there were tears in her eyes. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d have done without you there. I don’t even have a knife on me.”
“It was noth...er...” Natasha felt herself blushing. “I’m just surprised I remembered the right signals for Tipsy.” She shrugged. “I guess my memory works better under pressure.”
Lynn’s eyes continued to hold hers. “I’m in your debt. If you ever need someone to speak up for you, I’m on your side.”
Natasha dropped her gaze to the ground. It was a rather strange thing to say and, in the circumstances, sickeningly ironic.
*
Lynn and Kim sat by the fire in their home. Kim held one of Lynn’s hands in her own, gently rubbing a thumb over Lynn’s knuckles. Lynn had gone through various stages of shock and was now feeling calm. She stared silently into the flames. Kim was also preoccupied with her thoughts. A potentially messy situation had become even more complicated. If the worst fears about the new family were confirmed, it would make an unpleasant decision more painful.
There was a knock on the door, and Chip Coppelli entered. “We’ve checked the woods as best we can for now. We’ll go out again at first light tomorrow, but it looks like it was just one rogue animal.” She stood hesitantly by the door.
“And what else?” Kim asked.
“In regard to...?” Chip queried.
“You’re looking nervous.”
“I’m frightened you’re going to bawl me out for being careless with security.”
Kim laughed, mainly in relief. “Would I do that?”
“Yes. About once every five years. I think it’s due again.”
Kim beckoned the captain over and pointed to a chair. Chip had been lieutenant when Kim was in charge of the Rangers. They were close friends of many years’ standing, dating back to long before the 23rd Squadron had deserted.
“Was it an old animal?” Kim asked once Chip was settled.
“Yes. Too sick to hibernate, but it was huge. I wouldn’t relish the thought of taking it on with just a dagger. Jess must have a kick like a mule. If she does turn out to be straight, I might try recruiting her for the Rangers.”
Lynn had been frowning thoughtfully. Now she spoke. “Chip, I know this will sound odd, but do you mind if I check something—your DNA?”
“Er...no.” Mystified, Chip held out her hand.
Lynn took hold of it and closed her eyes. For a while, there was silence in the room, apart from the crackling of the fire. When Lynn released Chip’s hand, her expression was even more puzzled than before.
“So? Are you going to tell us anything?” Kim asked.
“Jess is a relative of Chip’s. So either Cal or Rohanna must be as well.”
“What?” Kim said.
“I don’t know why I did it, but when I healed the bite on Jess’ arm, I looked at her DNA.” Lynn shrugged. “I wasn’t in a fit state to think clearly. She’d just rescued Becky, and I wanted to know who she was. I haven’t got a clue what I expected to find out, but the DNA was familiar. I’ve been trying to remember from where, and then you came in.”
“If my family is involved, it’s trouble,” Chip said. “Do you have any idea how close Jess is, or on which side?”
“I’d guess at something like second cousin. If I found out which parent she relates through, I could be more precise. But there’s no way I could tell which side of your family.”
“And either side make unlikely relatives for a fugitive horse thief,” Kim said.
Chip frowned. “I know what you mean. None of my family are petty criminals. They are top-ranked, major-league criminals.”
“Is that any way to talk about two of the most respected families in Landfall?”
“Yes,” Chip retorted. “The Coppellis are powermongers, and the Tangs are just plain stinking rich. They do what they like and then buy or blackmail the judges. I wouldn’t be surprised to find any of my relatives involved in theft, but not small-scale theft. They aren’t the sort of people to steal a woman’s horse. They’d pay someone to forge evidence against her, have her imprisoned, and confiscate everything she owned.”
“You escaped from them. Maybe one of Jess’ grandmothers did the same,” Kim suggested.
Chip looked thoughtful. “I remember talk about a great-aunt who fell in love with a farmer and ran off with her to the country.”
Lynn shook her head. “I don’t think that’s it. Jess is city-born and bred. She’s okay with horses, but before she got here, I’ll bet the only time she was close to a pig or sheep was when it was lying on her plate.”
“Oh, well. But as I said before, if my family is involved, it’s trouble,” Chip said grimly.
Chapter Twelve—Games for the Guards
The cemetery was on a hillside overlooking the town. Only the traditional wooden grave markers showed above the snow covering the ground. Natasha followed Dani along a trampled pathway between lines of crosses. Thick fleece-lined coats protected them from the cold. Frost rimmed the edge of Natasha’s hood where her breath had frozen.
When Dani invited her along, Natasha had considered using the weather as an excuse not to go, but it would be strange for a new heretic to avoid paying her respects to the founder of the cult. Fortunately, her unease could be passed off as regret at not meeting the living woman. Dani also was subdued as she led the way to the spot where Gina was buried.
The grave was distinguished only by the newness of the wood. In death, Gina was not being granted any special status. Natasha stood beside Dani and gazed around. The scene was peaceful, as one would expect from a cemetery. Despite her mixed feelings about the grave they had come to visit, Natasha could not restrain a feeling of reverence in the presence of the dead. Whatever crimes these heretics had committed, they were now answering for them to Celaeno.
The cemetery was not large, barely a hundred graves, quite reasonable for somewhere the size of Westernfort after sixteen years. Natasha bit her lip. It represented half the number of Guards who were buried in a common grave below the wall. Really, she should be there, mourning the loss of comrades who had died bravely in the name of the Goddess.
“It’s a shame you didn’t get to meet her.” Dani’s voice broke into Natasha’s thoughts.
“Yes. I’d been looking forward to...” Killing her. Natasha bit back the last two words.
“She was an amazing person.”
Natasha made a noncommittal noise. Gina was the reason why Dani would spend eternity in hell. Natasha did not feel generous toward the woman.
“So much knowledge has gone with her—stuff the Sisters want to keep hidden. Gina used to be an Imprinter; then she had her accident. It cracked her skull, and she lost most of the healer sense. They wouldn’t let her leave the temple, so they forced her to work in the library.” Dani was rambling, unable to cope with the silence of the graveyard. “She spent over thirty years there, secretly reading the books about the Elder-Ones—the real ones that tell the truth, not that stupid Book of the Elder-Ones someone made up. Gina wrote down all the important stuff she’d found out, but she’d read so much, there wasn’t enough time for it all...not when she was running the town as well. And there were so many little things she knew that would just pop into her head when something prompted her. Like...” Dani pointed to the head of the grave. “Do you know why people always put a cross where they bury someone?”
Natasha frowned. Every grave she had ever seen had been marked by a cross. It was traditional, but the design was too manifestly practical to require any explanation. “It’s a marker post with a horizontal bar to write the person’s name on.”
Dani shook her head. “It’s an old symbol of another goddess, who people used to worship on the original Earth. Gina found out all sorts of things like that. Of course, she wasn’t supposed to read the books in the library. Nobody was supposed to read the books. She was just there to dust and sweep. And now she’s gone, and...” Dani’s voice was becoming less steady, with a hint of desperation. “Nobody else is going to get the chance to read anything in the temple library. The Chief Consultant ordered the doors sealed after Gina fled. Without Gina, there’s no...no...”
Suddenly, Dani’s self-control broke. Her lips twisted, and she covered her eyes with her hand. After the barest hesitation, Natasha put her arms around Dani’s shaking shoulders and hugged her close. At last, Dani’s sobs eased, and she turned her head to look back at the grave.
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