by Dana Davis
“You’re such a liar, Quin,” Cait said as she inspected the fish in his hand. Her mind flashed to their childhood and the mutual teasing.
“Is that anyway to talk to a full-grown, girl.” He grinned again, and she stomped her foot at him. “Who wants the honors?” He said as he held the fish a bit higher. Whithelen stepped forward and he immediately pulled the fish away from her. “I think we’d all like someone who can make him edible.” He wrinkled his nose at the warrior.
Whit’s hands went to her hips and she started to retort.
“I haven’t cooked anything in a while.” Marjordan placed a hand on Whit’s arm.
The warrior gave her a nod. “Well, you are a better cook than I am.”
“My horse is a better cook than you, Warrior Whit,” Paulucas added. He wasn’t much for jests and the group looked at him in astonishment. “What? I’m only telling the truth.”
“I’ll give you truth, Warrior. Or is it Finder today?”
Cait studied the two and realized their attraction. Where had she been that she didn’t see this relationship heating up over the last few days? Finder’s Fever must have been stronger than she realized. She glanced at Nat, who smiled stupidly at her brother.
At that moment, Paulucas advanced on Whit. “Care to find out?”
“Enough of that,” Marjordan scolded. “Not in front of the children. If you two need time alone, the lake is free.”
Cait took exception to her primary’s condescending tone about her but she knew better than to say anything. Instead, she focused on the couple, waiting for their response.
“Go on.” Marjordan shooed them toward the water.
The two looked at her in astonishment before breaking into a full run toward the lake.
Marjordan stood smack in Cait’s view and she had to crane her neck to see around the woman.
“Just what are you two looking at?” the healer said. “Go gather more wood for the fire.”
She was about to protest but Nat grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward the large woodpile that the warriors had created.
The pile had been replenished and Cait stooped to retrieve several fallen logs. “You’re awfully eager to get firewood.”
“Well, I want my brother to take a mate and I like Whithelen. She seems to calm him. Strange for a warrior, don’t you think?” Nat gathered small cuts of wood.
“Not for her. Whit’s always had a soft side. Not that she isn’t a fierce warrior in a fight. She’s good with a sword. But she is observant of people. I think she must’ve learned those skills from P-Marj. That woman doesn’t miss much.” In Cait’s sub-sanction, as in many others, healers had a lot of influence on the children. After all, they brought them into the world, gave regular exams and treated their ailments.
“So I’ve noticed.” Nat adjusted the wood stacked in her arms. “Your primary is very tough on her patients.”
“P-Marj does everything in her power to make sure her patients recover, whether they like it or not.” She smirked at the girl.
Nat snickered. “I’ll make sure I never get sick around her.”
“Good idea. So,” she leaned in toward her new friend, “how’s it going with Sam?”
The girl took in a deep breath and glanced at Sam, who sat by the fire with his splinted leg propped on a rock. “I told him that story. The one about the underage couple in your sub-sanction.”
Cait nodded and retrieved one last piece of wood, making sure her arms were full.
“He didn’t like the idea of living with another family for five years. So, we’re going to try really hard not to do anything stupid. It’s been pretty easy since his injuries. He hasn’t been alone very much, especially with Healer Marjordan around.”
“I’m sure your brother would be more than happy to break Sam’s other leg if it will keep you two apart.” Cait smiled at her own wit.
A tiny laugh came from Natjulie. “Don’t give him any ideas.”
The two walked back to camp and stacked the wood near the fire. Then Cait added a couple of smaller logs to the flames.
“You girls sit and rest until noonmeal,” Marjordan told them. “Jen tells me everyone will be allowed a peek into the new room as the digging progresses.”
Nat sat on the ground next to Samcoty’s stool.
Cait took a seat on a flat rock and looked around for the finder but she was gone. “Where is Jen?”
“She and Quin are inspecting the site. I think they’re deciding on the next order of shifts.”
Cait felt a pang of jealousy. She had located the room, and Jenellen was making plans around her find. And the woman was with Quin. She eyed the cave.
“Here,” Marjordan said, jolting her attention back to the fire. The woman held out a bowl of water and some tubers. “Wash these.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She forced her attentions on meal chores.
Her primary gave similar tasks to Nat and Sam then turned back to her own work of cleaning the fish. A messy job that Cait was more than pleased to avoid. Her thoughts turned to Quinpatrik bathing in the lake again and she hid her face from her primary. Perhaps she should confess her feelings to him. Then they could make plans for their future.
You don’t even know if he likes you that way. So stop those stupid thoughts.
She caught a laugh now and then and looked toward the lake but couldn’t see where Whit and Paulucas had gotten off to. She fought a sigh. This was going to be a very long dig if she couldn’t control her desires.
Chapter 11
The Room of Antiquities
Cait joined Jen and Quin in their efforts to expand the opening to the newly discovered room. They braced the area with rough, wooden planks and picked carefully through the dirt. Since Cait was the smallest of the group, she was allowed to wriggle through the opening as soon as it was large enough. Quinpatrik handed her a lamp once she was on the other side.
The room flickered with shadows as she stepped tentatively on the dirt floor. She’d been right about the living quarters. There were several, intact pottery items, as well as many shards. Material and fiber scraps covered one area near the far wall, and she guessed that to be the sleeping area. A clay lamp with a curved handle sat on a nearby rock, as though someone had simply set it there and gone out for the daily hunt. She was surprised how similar the ancient lamp was to her own. If not for the centuries separating her from these people, she could’ve sworn that whoever lived here would return any moment.
“What do you see?” Jenellen said with impatience.
She had her body halfway through the opening. “This was definitely someone’s home, Finder.” Something brushed against her foot and she yelped.
“Cait?” Jen said in a near panicked voice.
She held the lamp out in front of her to illuminate the room more and saw a small creature scurry into a hole and disappear. “Sorry.” She tried to slow her rapid heartbeat. “Ratmouse.” She heard curses and knew the woman worried about damaged artifacts from the furry creatures. “It looks like whoever lived here abandoned this place in a hurry. Most of the items are in positions of usage.”
Cait had learned to tell a lot about people’s last moments at a site from her father. The man had called that detective work. She knew the term was archaic, but he had liked using words from the old languages now and then. Caitlanna’s thoughts lingered on the archaic tongue then turned to the Elders. The Elders were still deciphering the ancient mountain diaries, the only ones that existed in pieces large enough to read. So far, all they had decoded were a few syllables. The diaries were said to be complicated with older languages and full of unknown words.
Cait didn’t think she would have the patience for deciphering work, but then she wasn’t old. Perhaps in several decades, she would tire of the digs and opt for a seat on the Council, if she lived that long, but she doubted it.
“This is unbelievable, Jen.” A shiver took her when her fingers touched a beaded necklace that lay on one of the cloths. It l
ooked small enough for a child and, except for the string, was complete, bone clasp and all. She turned toward the opening and, when something shimmered off to her right, stepped to the object. “Oh, Finder,” she said in awe as she realized the shimmering artifact was made of ancient metal. Not the dull pounded type of her time, but a smooth, soothing metal of shimmering silver and gold. It was older than the people who had lived here, from another era, probably a find of a much earlier dig when such treasures were plentiful.
“What’ve you found? Bring it to me if you can.”
Cait didn’t have to be told. She already had her fingers on the object before the finder spoke. As she pulled the thing from its resting place, a leather sheath half-eaten with age, crumbled away to reveal a long, sharp knife. The handle had intricate gilded carvings of animals that she could only imagine, for they no longer existed in her world. She studied the ancient writing along the handle but the archaic words made no sense to her.
“Cait?”
“I’m coming, Finder.” She stepped to the woman, lamp in one hand and the precious knife in the other.
“This is beautiful.” The finder took the artifact and cradled it in her hands. “Should bring a profit at least half that of the Mask.”
At that moment, something stirred in Caitlanna, something she’d never experienced in all her young years as a striker. Her mind tried in desperation to recreate the owner of the ancient knife. Not just so she could locate other artifacts like it. But to know who these people were and what they’re lives had been like. Did they have families like now? What were their hardships? Could they possibly be Caitlanna’s direct ancestors? She would never know that for certain but the thought thrilled her. A desire to hold onto the find and study it welled up. She stroked the artifact in Jenellen’s hands and felt a pulse of excitement race through her veins. This was so old. Older than Cait could envision.
“Do we have to sell it?” she uttered, not taking her eyes from the gilded animals.
“Of course, we have to sell it. Don’t be ignorant, girl. How would everyone get their share of the profit if we kept it?”
She shrugged uncomfortably. All her days, she had excavated for profit but there was something about this place, these artifacts, something she couldn’t explain. And she didn’t dare try to rationalize her feelings to Jen and the others. They would never understand. I don’t even understand.
“Come out,” Jenellen ordered. “Leave the lamp. I want to take a look before we let the others in here.”
“Yes, Finder.” She reluctantly wriggled back through the opening. Quin helped her widen it enough for the others to get through and watched with interest as Jenellen surveyed the ancient room.
“Looks like they may have left much of their belongings. It’s just the way you said, Cait, everything’s in its place. Oh, this is a rich site, indeed.” One dusty arm made a sweeping motion. “Looks like the ratmice haven’t had a chance to eat away at anything yet. They must’ve just found this place, too, probably through our opening. Even if we don’t find the Mask here, we’ll each have enough profit to live well for quite a while. Quin, you’re next then Paul. Nat and the others can take turns after him.”
The finders exchanged places. Each person, including Marjordan and the other warriors in the camp took a turn, except for Samcoty. With his broken leg, he couldn’t maneuver the tunnel. He sulked on a stool outside the cave until Jenellen gave him the gilded knife to inspect.
Cait had observed that most finders tried to keep high morale among their strikers. Work proceeded quicker when everyone was in a decent mood.
“A fortunate warrior must have owned that,” Whit said as her black eyes focused on the artifact. She sat close to Paulucas but the two kept space between them.
The knife was so beautiful, so mysterious, a relic of a lost time, a time Cait couldn’t even imagine. She couldn’t help her reluctance about bartering the artifact and she frowned.
“Cait?” Marjordan stepped to her and placed a brief hand on her forehead.
“I’m not ill, P-Marj.”
The healer studied her a moment. “Well, I think we could all benefit from a good night’s sleep. Especially you. And I want to clean those scratches before you bed down.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She spoke with some distance in her voice. Marjordan studied her. She smiled and decided that a hearty nighmeal would divert her primary’s attention. Though her thoughts remained troubled over the treasures they’d found.
Chapter 12
Dagbeasts and Mutants
The next morning, Cait worked first shift with Jen. The group had heard dagbeasts sometime before dawn, so Paulucas was on warrior duty and wouldn’t resume finder shifts until that threat had abated. Cait hoped to take advantage of the available shift. As she worked, her mind raced with excuses she thought Marjordan would accept. She used her trowel and brush to unearth a metal box buried near one corner of the ancient room. It was dull and, by the dents and scratches that adorned it, had been well-used. When she pulled the box from the ancient resting place, the thing rattled, startling her, and she chuckled at her reaction.
Jenellen turned to her. “What have you got there?”
“A box. But there’s a lock on it.” When she looked closer, she saw that the lock wasn’t fastened and slipped off with little effort. “Got it.”
“Put it here.” The finder carried a lamp to a stool they had brought in.
Once she’d placed the weighty box on the stool, she looked to the woman for further instructions. It wasn’t a striker’s place to open anything on a dig. That was the finder’s job.
Jen smiled and nodded. “You found it. You can have the honor.”
“Really? Thank you, Finder.” She steadied her anxious hand, pulled the box flap up, lifted the lid, and gaped at the contents. “What are they?” She felt as though she’d unearthed something forbidden.
The finder reached in and took a handful of the flat, round objects. When she held them to the lamp light, some shimmered.
“Copper,” Cait said in answer to her own question.
“Yes. Ancient copper coins. These were old when whoever lived here had them. Perhaps even older than that knife you found.”
Cait had heard tales of ancient money but she’d never seen any, until now. They weren’t valuable in the same way they’d once been. No one traded items for money anymore. That was just foolish. People wanted useful things. Coins could be melted down to make tools, if there were enough. But there didn’t look to be enough here for any large profit.
“Can I?” She wanted to touch the coins for herself.
“Here.” Jenellen gave her several.
She turned them over in her fingers and held one close to the lamp. It seemed to be perfectly round, smooth along the edges, and she wondered what miraculous technology had created it. There was ancient writing in several places. The profile of a man with short hair and a beard was on one side. He must have been important. Some ancient building had been carved on the other side.
Suddenly, there was a commotion from outside the cave. The voices were muffled but Cait could tell something was wrong. She tossed her coins back into the box with Jenellen’s. The two scurried out of the room and through the tunnel to the cave entrance. Cait’s weapon lay next to Jen’s and both took them up. They headed out toward what were now screams and clangs of metal.
Three, sword-wielding, painted-face strangers were engaged in a fight with the three dig warriors. Marjordan had her own sword drawn and stood in a protective stance with Sam and Nat behind her.
“Stay with the healer,” Jenellen ordered.
“But—“
“Do as I say!” Jen pushed Cait toward her primary. She then stepped toward the fight and stood next to Quinpatrik.
Cait held her sword in the defensive stance that Ian had taught her as fear shook her body. She watched as Whit brought her weapon down, slicing into an invader’s chest. He cried out and lowered his sword tip to the ground. By t
he pain etched on his face, Cait thought he would drop the weapon, but his hand never let go. Then with an animal screech that sent chills down Cait’s spine, the man brought his sword toward Whithelen’s middle.
She gasped and clutched her own weapon tighter, then shifted her weight and prepared to charge into battle to help her friends.
“Stay!” Marjordan ordered, and Cait froze.
Whithelen was agile and jumped back from the man’s blade. The sword caught her tunic but no blood appeared. Her face contorted in anger and with one last swipe of her sword, the man writhed on the ground in a bloody heap. She had opened him down the middle.
Paulucas took a blade in the leg. Whit was quick to come to his aid and the two took the other man down.
A female stranger fought with Ianandy. She was quick and appeared a bit younger, though it was difficult to tell her exact age with the painted face. The two went back and forth, exchanging blows with their swords, dancing the way warriors did. Each crash of metal made Cait cringe with fear for Ian. He was bleeding from his left hand but didn’t seem to notice.
The stranger had a slice along one of her painted cheeks that bled freely down her neck and onto her dirty clothing. Her face twisted with hatred and, as she turned for another parry, Cait saw her eyes for the first time. Wild, like a dagbeast’s, untamed and fierce. The woman appeared to fight more with desperation than skill, though she certainly had training.
Whit and Paul stepped toward the feral woman, but Ian waved them back. He seemed determined to win against this formidable opponent.
Caitlanna’s muscles began to cramp but she didn’t dare relax. Behind her, Natjulie sobbed.
Suddenly, Ian lost his footing and went down. The stranger sneered with an insane expression and brought her sword up in a motion that would slice him in half. Cait held her breath. Ian was quick and rolled out of the blade’s reach. The woman found only grass and dirt with her weapon and screamed in frustration. By the time she could get the sword up again, Ian was on his feet. The strange woman suddenly went rigid and gasped, giving him a look of pure shock and disbelief as her sword fell to the ground. Confusion etched Ianandy’s face as he hesitated. The stranger fell to her knees before collapsing. Her corpse lay still on the ground with the feathered end of an arrow protruding from her back.