Widows of the Sun-Moon

by Barbara Ann Wright

  Mamet scowled harder. “Any plains dweller will be more my people than these.” She glared around as if the very walls offended her. Any small sound made her jump, and once or twice, she stared at a shadow as if it might attack. Cordelia wondered if anyone she’d attacked in Gale ever had a morning this bad.

  Nettle rested a hand on Mamet’s, and she nearly leapt out of her seat. “Be easy, young one,” Nettle said, her voice soft, almost a croon though she was no shawness. “Do you wish to speak of your time here?”

  Mamet trembled, and Cordelia thought she might cry, but she breathed deeply. “I heard some names, Fajir and Nico. Halaan. But I only know who they are because you told me. It was so dark. They…there were…whips. Kicks.” Her free hand tightened to a fist. “They only laughed when I asked them why. They said the rest of my kinfolk who were captured with me are dead. They said if they’d gotten hold of me when I was first captured, I’d be dead, too. I tried so hard not to cry.”

  Cordelia hurt for her. “You’re free now. You don’t have to think about it.”

  “I’m sorry I tried to kick you. I’d been thinking about escape for so long.”

  “It was a good effort. I’m proud of you, kid.”

  Mamet smiled and then grimaced as if it hurt her. “I don’t know if I can pretend to be their ally. And if Fajir makes you keep your promise, you’ll have to hunt one of my people.”

  “It won’t come to that,” Cordelia said. “I’ll…think of a way out. And we’ll get out of this fight, too.”

  “We can see about your fellows who are still imprisoned here,” Nettle said. “They might be alive.”

  “Do you think Fajir will give them to us without another bargain?” Mamet asked.

  Cordelia shrugged. “With Horace distracting the Sun-Moon by trying to figure out how to heal them, we might be free to poke around, see what we can find.”

  Nettle leaned close and kept her voice down as if the Sun-Moon could hear through walls. “They cannot read my mind. Perhaps I can arrange an escape that we will appear innocent of.” She grimaced slightly. “Though I do not like deception. Sa tells me it is all right to deceive your enemies, but…” She frowned harder.

  Mamet smiled a little. “I’m in your debt, honor bound to help you, but I’d like to see my people free.”

  “We won’t forget them,” Cordelia said. “I’ve been spending too much time with the drushka, and now I’m trying to make everyone part of my tribe.”

  Mamet smiled a little wider. “My parents would like you.”

  Cordelia sat up straighter. “Doesn’t everyone?”

  Nettle touched her knee. “You would not care if they did or did not.”

  “Just you.”

  Mamet sighed as she looked between them, clearly a kid in love with love. “Do you think we will have to fight for the Sun-Moon at all?”

  “Well, I doubt Naos’s army will ask if we’re Sun-Moons before they kill us, so maybe.”

  “We could hide,” Mamet said softly. She flinched as if the thought was new and unsettling.

  “I’m not so good at that,” Cordelia said.

  “We are not,” Nettle added.

  “But to fight by the side of…” Mamet shivered.

  “We can’t leave without Horace,” Cordelia said. “And they’ve got a hold on him.”

  Mamet nodded, and Cordelia could almost see her mind working. When the moment came, could she lift her sword in defense of those who’d killed her people? Could any of them promise they would?

  But, Cordelia told herself, she’d already done that. No matter that she’d said she could get out of hunting an Engali, part of her hoped she could pull Fajir out of this vengeance spiral, and maybe one dead plains dweller was all it took. She felt as if she had to do it just to prove it could be done.

  No, she thought. She should focus on escaping and not having to think about any of this shit anymore.

  Horace came in later that day. When Cordelia asked if he’d know if the Sun-Moon were listening in on their conversation, he shrugged, clearly exasperated after spending the morning and afternoon with them. “They’re too powerful. They contacted their people from space. They can speak through them. Do you know why Fajir speaks our language? The Sun-Moon put it in her head. Put it in her head! They can use their telepathy through their worshipers. They can project not just thoughts but images. If they wanted, they could probably make us think we were seeing them right now or hide themselves from our sight if they were here.”

  Cordelia grinned. “So that’s a no?”

  He gave her a dark look. “No.”

  In the end, they decided to keep their voices low and hope for the best.

  They spent the rest of the day resting, but just before nightfall, Fajir knocked on the door and told them she had news. Mamet seemed torn between the desire to run and the need to rip out Fajir’s throat. Nettle sat beside her, one long arm slung around her shoulders.

  Fajir didn’t even look Mamet’s way, and Cordelia resisted the urge to snap at her.

  “Our scouts have found this army,” Fajir said. “They are three days from here, perhaps four if they move slowly.”

  The scouts had to have been moving fast indeed. But they wouldn’t have to come back before they reported, not with the Sun-Moon listening in.

  “A big force will have to move slowly,” Cordelia said, thinking of her time in the swamp. This wasn’t difficult terrain, but more people equaled more problems that could slow an army down. “All warriors or others, too?”

  Fajir shrugged. “Everyone, it seemed. They come from the southeast.”

  Cordelia nodded. Even if she managed to escape with the others, they’d have to turn north to avoid any confrontations with scouting parties. “Did your scouts run into theirs?”

  “This Naos doesn’t use scouts.” Fajir frowned as if the idea perplexed her.

  “If she’s powerful enough,” Cordelia said, “she won’t need people to see in front of her. And she might be sucking up everyone in her path. She might do the same to your outlying villages.”

  “Our people would never leave the Lords!”

  “Your Lords aren’t the only ones with telepathy,” Horace said. “If Naos is powerful enough, she won’t need words to convince them.”

  “Most are fleeing into Celeste,” Fajir said. “This army is too great to meet in the plains, but you don’t have to fear. The walls will protect us.”

  “We are not afraid,” Mamet said in a strangled whisper.

  Fajir finally looked at her, a glance of pure disdain, before turning to Cordelia again. “That’s all the Lords wish you to know. If you want me to hold your hand some more, you know where to find me.”

  Cordelia would rather have broken her hand at that moment. They’d barely had a fight before, but Cordelia wouldn’t mind another. Still, for the sake of the peace, she let Fajir walk out the door. Like so many things, she’d have to wait.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Liam rested on Shiv’s abdomen as her small tree sheltered them from the sun. Pool had asked him and Reach to be go-betweens for her and the plains dwellers, sort of like ambassadors, Liam supposed, though he’d never thought of himself as such.

  Both Onin and Wuran had kept their clans close since the Storm Lord had attacked. Liam told them Pool planned to move if the Storm Lord came this way. She wanted to be closer to Sun-Moon territory in order to find Nettle, Cordelia, and Horace. The two chafas had glared at each other as if declaring they might fight in Pool’s absence.

  Liam said there’d been enough killing, and Reach cautioned them about risking the people they had left. After two long, arduous days, Onin had offered reparations for those his clan had killed, and the two chafas seemed to reach an uneasy peace. Many people had died, but the clans could both either move on or finish the job and annihilate each other. Even then, Wuran seemed as if he might not fully accept peace until Onin offered to die for the crimes his clan had committed. Wuran accepted that offer at last, and
that brought an end to things.

  Liam had caught Wuran’s arm before he could leave. “I wanted you to know how much I admire you for even coming to this meeting. I don’t know if I could’ve done the same.”

  Wuran smiled, though the pinched look around his eyes said he still carried an undercurrent of anger. “When you travel east, we may follow.”

  “You will always be welcome,” Reach said.

  He nodded with a faraway look. “Some of our people were visiting family in the far south when we were attacked. Now they have returned and bring rumors of a gathering of clans moving east, too. I think something larger than all of us might be happening.”

  When Pool heard this, she said they’d move sooner rather than later, not wanting to get caught between the Storm Lord and this new group. She wanted to stray farther to the north and stay away from any humans. Liam hoped Cordelia wasn’t caught up in any strange fights. Best to rescue them quickly, Pool said, and get out of the way, with scouts trailing behind looking for a way to spirit Simon Lazlo out of the Storm Lord’s hands.

  From his place under the little tree’s branches, Liam sighed. Simon Lazlo could rot with the Storm Lord for all he cared. If Simon hadn’t healed the bastard after Liam shot him, they’d still be in Gale, out of this mess. He’d be a lieutenant, Cordelia would be captain, and things would have just continued as they were.

  But would that have been enough? Negotiating between the two chafas had been difficult, but he’d done it, leaving him with unexpected pride. He’d had plenty of practice keeping calm in the face of irrational anger, let alone anger that had a cause. And no matter how enraged they were, the chafas couldn’t hold a candle to his mother.

  Shiv passed a hand through his hair, followed a moment later by the leafy tendrils of her tree. They tickled his nose and made him sneeze.

  “You are not sleeping,” she said.

  “I was wondering if I talked the chafas into something, or if all they needed was a little room to think for themselves and decide not to kill each other.”

  “Reach told me you led them to that but let them think they led themselves.”

  “I’ve never led anyone to anything before.”

  “Who else is there to lead the humans now?”

  “Cordelia,” he said.

  “Sa is not here. Besides, your people have need of two leaders, or so Reach tells us, one of the body and one of the mind. Sa enjoys battle more than you.”

  He barked a laugh. “The mayor’s niece leads the paladins, and the captain’s son leads the people?”

  “Two circles, each locked with the other.”

  He looked into her lean face. “Does that bother you?”

  Shiv threw her head back and laughed. “I like Sa, and I like you. We are all excellent good friends.”

  He ran a finger over her lips, and she nipped him gently. “If I see a chance to attack the Storm Lord, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself. I don’t know if I can be like Wuran.”

  “Reach could teach you.”

  “She has, a little.”

  Reach had told him he must find the answer in himself; no one could teach him the ways of inner peace. She’d reminded him that the price of the Storm Lord’s life might be his own death, and he must consider all those he’d leave behind. It’d been a good speech, but he still didn’t know if it would be enough.

  He thought of all his friends, closer than family; of Shiv, whom he was still getting to know, but every layer he uncovered he liked better than the last; and he loved Cordelia without question. And if he was going to truly be a leader, if there was no one else who could fill that role, he couldn’t leave them.

  Liam sat up and pulled Shiv close, kissing her deeply and forgetting the rest of the world for a while.

  The next day, the scouts told them that the Storm Lord’s army was leaving Gale. Pool’s tree moved north, leaving a trail of drushka behind her. The Storm Lord moved fast, and when it seemed he might be able to see the tree, Pool laid it down, not taking any chances. Liam kept near Pool with Samira, but Reach was one of the scouts. Shiv sat beside her mother, her little tree next to her, and her eyes as unfocused as Pool’s as they watched and listened.

  “Reach can see the Storm Lord,” Shiv said softly.

  Liam’s heart thudded. He wished he could have been one of the scouts even as he was glad he wasn’t. He wondered if Reach had volunteered because of what they’d talked about. Had he stirred the flame of vengeance inside her? Surely she wouldn’t risk leaving her son an orphan again.

  Samira shifted. “Can she see Simon?”

  Pool didn’t respond, though Shiv’s eyes shifted across the ground as if searching. “Yes, he rides upon a cart at the Storm Lord’s side.”

  Samira grunted and looked pained. “Is he…”

  “He is unbound.”

  Liam could see the questions gathering, but he caught her eye. “Let them watch.”

  “And smell,” Shiv said, her vision clearing briefly before going distant again. “Reach says the humans smell differently than when she lived there; not a wholly unfamiliar smell, but one she has not associated with humans before. She cannot name it.”

  Odd, but Liam didn’t know what they could do with that.

  “None of our concern now,” Pool said.

  They watched until the Storm Lord was well into the plains.

  “Are you looking for a way to get Simon back?” Samira asked.

  “Yes,” Pool said impatiently.

  Samira stood to pace.

  “Easy,” Liam said.

  She shook her head and seemed as if she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I’m usually a lot calmer than this.”

  “It’s a bad time for everyone.”

  “Someone follows the Storm Lord,” Shiv said. “A group of…families? They have children among them and follow far behind the army.”

  “Who could that be?” Liam asked.

  Pool focused on him. “Go to Wuran. He must see these newcomers and tell us if he knows them.”

  Liam ran, not stopping until he was among the tents of the Uri. Onin had died the night before, executed by his own people, but there’d been no celebration. The mood in the tents was as somber as before. They still mourned their dead.

  Samira trailed Liam, and he slowed to let her catch up. She was a risk, just as he was, but since they weren’t going near the Storm Lord, her power might be useful.

  Wuran agreed to go with them to see these new people, and they gathered up Reach on their way. They spied on the little group of families that followed the Storm Lord’s track, but Wuran shook his head as he studied them.

  “I don’t know them.” He frowned hard as the children struggled to keep up with the adults. “They might need help. We can find out what they want at least. Perhaps you should stay behind, Reach. No offense.”

  Reach’s eyes took on an unfocused look, but without a chain of drushka, she was probably having a hard time communicating. “I think Pool would agree. I will be watching.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Samira said. “If they turn nasty, I can help.”

  Liam nodded. “The three of us, then.”

  *

  Ap froze when he saw the strangers, but they made no move to hide. They stood in the open with bare hands, no weapons in sight. Of the three, one was dressed like the people of Gale, though they’d come from the wrong direction to be part of the Storm Lord’s pack.

  “What should we do?” Et asked.

  One of the newcomers dressed as the plains people did, and Ap supposed they might be curious. As he watched, one of them waved, a friendly smile in place. He said something to the other two, and all of them tried a gesture that seemed friendly.

  There were probably more of them hiding. Ap took Et and one of the young girls who was better at the language of Gale and went to meet them, leaving the others to keep going slowly.

  The man who’d waved said hello in the language of the plains, which Ap had l
earned some time ago. “I understand you,” he said, though the words felt rusty and unused in his mouth.

  “I’m Liam, this is Samira and Wuran, chafa of the Uri. We’re from a clan to the north.”

  “I am Ap, shaman of the Deliquois people. Greetings.”

  “The Deliquois?” Wuran said. “The islands to the south?”

  Liam looked blank, but Samira brightened. “I’ve heard of you! What are you doing all the way up here?” She seemed to notice her outburst could be rude and closed her mouth, cheeks going pink.

  Ap suppressed the urge to chuckle. After all the hiding in Gale, some forthrightness was refreshing. “We’re traveling.”

  Liam nodded slowly, but Wuran frowned as if he didn’t believe.

  “Are you travelers as well?” Ap asked.

  Liam glanced at the others and said, “We’re following the Storm Lord. He has one of ours, and we’re going to rescue him.”

  Samira looked at him in surprise, but Wuran kept watching Ap. Ap copied Liam’s slow nod. “So, you’re sure I’m not his ally?”

  “I can’t help but notice you’re traveling in his tracks,” Liam said, “rather than with him. Is there something he took from you, too?”

  Ap felt anger creeping along his neck as he relived the Contessa’s death, but he kept his face expressionless. “He killed our goddess.”

  Now they all exchanged looks. “If it’s revenge you’re after, killing him won’t be easy,” Liam said. “I did it once, but he didn’t stay dead.”

  “We’ve noticed.”

  They all smiled even though they were discussing grisly business.

  “We were a peaceful people,” Ap said. “Not so long ago.” He told them of the Contessa’s death. They seemed confused, understandably so. The goddess had never revealed her magnificence to them.

  Samira shook her head. “The children, too?”

  “They can stay with the Uri,” Wuran said. “I know you’ve no reason to trust us, but surely—”

  “No,” Ap said, “we’ll stay together.” He didn’t add that their task would fall to the children if the adults should fall. “Please, don’t try to stop us.”