Reading the Wind (Silver Ship)

by Brenda Cooper

  Kayleen was not with any of them.

  At the end of the aisle, I called again, “Kayleen, are you here?”

  Still no answer.

  We stepped out the back door into the big practice ring, and I called a third time. “Kayleen?”

  Liam stepped out into the corral, and leaned against the metal bars of the big practice ring. “I don’t see any sign of her.”

  A single light bolted high on the outside of the wooden barn illuminated his face and shone on his blond hair.

  I walked over near him, and clambered up on the bars, sitting on the top one. It made me taller than him by almost a meter. “Do you remember last fall, when I told you Kayleen seemed so lost—somewhere—that I could barely get her attention?”

  He reached a hand up and set it over mine where it clung to the bar. “Yes, I remember.”

  “I’m scared for her. Maybe, like Joseph, she’s become too different.”

  “Have you talked to Gianna?” he asked.

  “Not this trip, not enough to ask about Kayleen. Besides, Gianna is so much older. It’s not the same as having friends.” A brief shock of bitterness crossed my heart. “And you know who’s here. Garmin and most of the other people our age haven’t changed, so there’s no reason to think they’re kind to Kayleen.”

  “I know.” Liam hopped up next to me on the bars. “But it’s not like the East Band loves us. Surely some of how she’s treated is up to her. If she’s distant with us, imagine how she must be with everyone else.”

  I moved closer to him, brushing thighs. “I’d still like to help her if I can. I think… maybe she’s living too much in the nets and not enough in the real world.”

  “Maybe.”

  His profile in the half light swelled my chest. Simply looking at him made me feel I could float from the bars and land on the barn roof. “Being with us in the wild, she wouldn’t be in the nets so much. You have to pay attention out there.”

  Liam sighed. “Well, I wonder if she’s focused enough for that? I wouldn’t trust her to travel by herself. Someone would have to come back for her, and we’ll be way out by Rage Mountain this summer. It would be too hard.”

  I nodded. “I should be able to help her. She and I used to be so close.…”

  “She has to let you help her.” He reached an arm over my shoulder and pulled me close, unbalancing us a little so I gripped the rail harder. “You can’t solve every problem.”

  I never could. It had always taken us all. I missed Jenna’s watchful eye and weird way of helping us learn, and I missed Bryan’s silent strength. I even missed willful and lost Alicia with all of her pain and anger. Most of all, I missed Joseph. He’d be able to help Kayleen in ways I couldn’t—he, too, rode the wind. And more. He flew space ships. Where was he, and how different from me had he yet become?

  Liam must have felt my need, because he held me close and began to hum softly, a sweet song of summer fields. I looked up at a sky full of stars gathered around Faith and Summer. I searched for a third moon, which would have been a sign of good luck, but didn’t find one.

  The barn light switched off.

  “Why did the light go off?” Liam asked.

  “Because I couldn’t stand to watch you two anymore,” Kayleen said. “Because I’m crazy and I do crazy things. Because I live too much in the nets and not enough in the real world.” A pause. Her voice, ripped with pain, floating down from the top of the barn. “I can’t be trusted to travel by myself.”

  I sat up. How much had she heard? “Kayleen?”

  She didn’t answer.

  I turned on my flashlight and shone it upward, looking for her. We called her name, and Liam took my light and scrambled up onto the roof. After a while, he called, “She’s not here.”

  He climbed back down and stood a little distance from me, his arms by his sides, the closeness between us turned awkward by her sudden absent presence. She was fast—if she wanted to ditch us here in the dark, in her place, she could. I looked up at where the light had been, and spoke, hoping she was still close enough to hear me. “Kayleen. We’re just worried about you. I miss you.”

  The hebras stamped quietly in their stalls and a cool wind blew softly through the rafters.

  Liam added, “Come out. So we can talk.”

  We waited, still standing a little apart, listening carefully for any sound that might be our friend, our sister. Twenty minutes passed, in which we said nothing, afraid she would hear, or that she wouldn’t hear.

  We walked back, side by side, not touching, not saying anything.

  2

  KAYLEEN RESPONDS

  The next day dawned clear and bright, with no sign of clouds. The clatter and calls of the East Band’s departure made a chaotic background to the relative routine of readying my little home. I looked out the window every few minutes, hoping for a sign of Kayleen in the chaos of comings and goings. I watched for her as I fetched Stripes from the barn and rode her back to the wagons, as I tied her into her harness, and checked the long-rein I would use to guide her.

  Stripes shifted in her traces, her head twisting sideways to watch me, her flanks quivering. She had been trained as a riding beast, and a slight sense of disapproval lingered in her eyes as I tightened her chest-band.

  The wagons began to line up. I spotted Sasha, her younger brothers, and her mother and father in the lead. The single white streak in Sasha’s long dark hair made a distinctive mark against the dark green lead wagon. I waited my turn, watching them start off, a ragged line neatening behind them as they headed for the High Road. Wagon wheels creaked and hebras called to each other. Goats bleated.

  At least half of Artistos had turned out for our departure. Children clutched parents’ hands or pointed at the various bright and noisy bits of the wagon train. Joseph and I used to do the same, clutching Steven and Therese while watching the long line of roamers snake away up the hill, wanting to go with them to find adventure. Some hot summer afternoons we pretended to be roamers running from paw-cats or climbing trees to catch new birds or animals.

  A hand touched my elbow. “Chelo?”

  I turned to find Paloma standing next to me. “Did you find her last night?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “No. Not exactly.” I didn’t elaborate; I didn’t want to worry Paloma more than necessary. “Did she come home?”

  Paloma’s eyes were filled with concern. “No. I hoped she’d be here—she’s always come to see you off before.”

  Stripes stamped her feet and I reached a hand up to scratch her just behind her scraggly beard. “I know,” I said. “I’ve been watching for her.”

  “I talked to Nava. She says Kayleen’s too valuable to risk in the wild.”

  I didn’t quite keep the anger out of my voice. “You mean it’s possible Nava might lose control of her pet altered if she lets Kayleen spend time with us wild ones?”

  Paloma grimaced. “Maybe.”

  I glanced at the line. It was almost my turn. “Doesn’t Nava know Kayleen could escape if she wanted to?”

  Paloma let out a short sharp laugh.

  “Nava used fear to cage us, particularly Joseph. It didn’t work, so now she’s trying to make Kayleen too precious for her freedom. I rather expect this new tactic won’t work either. You might explain that to Nava.” I gave Stripes one last scratch and climbed up on the wide seat of my wagon.

  Paloma shook her head. “Easier, maybe, to just convince her that the nets are working well enough to give Kayleen a vacation. Did you ask about staying next winter?”

  I picked up the long-rein. “Akashi and Mayah were asleep when I got home.” I swept a hand toward the wagons still waiting, like me, to leave. “I’ve hardly seen them this morning.”

  “But you will ask?”

  “Of course.” I glanced up to find Liam, who Akashi had assigned to be ride boss for this first leg, astride Star, beckoning me to start off. At Star’s feet, a big-boned rangy red dog with white ears paced just out of kicking
range: Ritzi, the lead camp-dog. She gave me an even sterner look than Liam’s. I laughed at the dog, then looked back at Paloma. “Take care this summer. May your crops come in well.”

  “May you find new treasures.” She reached a hand out to touch my thigh. “Thank you.”

  I smiled at her and clucked at Stripes, starting us off. The wagon moved more easily now than it had on the way down.

  Lighter wagons or not, the ride up started with a long hot pull in bright sunshine. Sweat trickled down Stripes’s flanks and dripped from my nose. The camp dogs followed us, running back and forth from the beginning of the line to the end. Ritzi led them, holding her white ears and white tail up as far as she could get them. Liam, too, rode up and down the line, checking on us all. The responsibility sat well on him, and he wore a serious smile whenever he reined Star up by my wagon and spoke to me.

  After the first two hours, Liam called for a brief rest. He chose a spot known as View Bend, just below the rock fall remains we would soon thread through. He knew how hard the next part of the trail would be for me.

  Tree-studded cliffs rose above and below us. Here, the trail was wide enough to take two or three wagons side by side. A thin strip of trees lined the stream near the cliff face, and the fresh scents of forest and new spring growth blew across the trail on a soft breeze. The older dogs flopped down to pant in the shade of the wagons, and the younger ones followed the midsized children as they ran off to fetch water from the stream for the hebras.

  The cliff fell down away from us, yielding a long view. Artistos already seemed small from this height, the neat rows of houses and big oval of Commons Park looking like children’s toy blocks, or a painting on a wagon side. The Lace River looked like a small winding snake, and smoke puffed from the industrial area on the far side of the river. I took a deep breath, happy to be away from the noxious smells of the town. I hadn’t noticed them often when I lived there, but now that visits to Artistos were rare, its smelter and mill smell had become noticeably aromatic.

  I closed my eyes and took another deep breath of forest and running water and sweaty hebra, of the oil used to lubricate the wagon wheels and of the goats and chickens we brought with us from Artistes. Only then did I look out over the grass plains, to the empty concrete pad, even smaller and further away than Artistes. The silver ship, the New Making, had sat on the pad until the year I was seventeen. When Joseph flew away.

  Perhaps Akashi sensed my feelings. He climbed up on the wide seat next to me. “Still hard?”

  The first year, he and Liam had stopped here with me. I had cried on their shoulders for hours at the loss of Joseph, of Bryan, and of Jenna. “Not as hard as it used to be.” I swallowed and gave Akashi a soft smile. “He should be getting to Silver’s Home any time.”

  “I’m glad you stayed. You’ve been a help.”

  Praise from him still made me warm, even though it was no longer rare. “Don’t worry, Akashi. I’m happy.” I sighed. “I know I did the right things—the best ones, anyway. It just doesn’t stop me from wondering what it’s like on the ship.”

  Akashi laughed. “Don’t worry too much about the paths you don’t go down.” His expression turned serious. “Besides, you’ll probably outlive us all, and it’s hard to imagine any paths closed to you.” He climbed down from the wagon and took my hand, briefly, squeezing it. “Call me if you need anything.”

  I smiled. “Sure. Thanks for stopping.”

  “Are you and Liam going to the cave tomorrow?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Sasha promised to drive my wagon for the day we’ll lose.”

  “That’s good for her. She’ll do well.” Akashi walked off to check on the other wagons. Two boys, Justin and Amil, came over to Stripes and stood in front of her with a skin of water. She drank noisily, shaking her head up and down and splashing.

  The boys, one tall, one short, laughed and wandered off, and a few moments later the long train of twenty-two wagons started back up the hill. New growth had covered the raw scars left by boulders and trees as they’d tumbled and fallen over the cliff face, and butterflies flitted through the bright yellows and whites of the spring flowers. I sang my way through the tumbled stones and the bones of the old rock fall. As I sang, I silently wished my adoptive parents, Therese and Steven, good journeys. They had died here. I sang for them, to show them I was healthy and strong.

  The next morning, just before dawn, I poured myself a cup of sun tea made the day before, now cool and tart, and pulled out a handful of small dried apples from last year’s harvest. As I ate, light slowly faded the stars. This must have been the time of day Jenna most often snuck into the cave herself. She had shown it to us just a few days before she and Joseph left. It had once been a war base for our altered parents, and Kayleen used to joke that we were probably born there. During the years Jenna had spent living by herself on the outskirts of town, she had gathered many artifacts from the war, altered weapons and altered communication devices and altered tools and clothes. Our legacy. Much of it stashed in this cave.

  Sasha’s footsteps crunched across the road. Her dark eyes glittered with excitement. She greeted me warmly. “Good morning. How are you?”

  Her excitement made me smile. “Great.” I reached for a dried pongaberry, shrunk to half-size and flat. “Would you like to help me harness Stripes?”

  She took the berry from me and went to get Stripes, her dark hair contrasting with Stripes’s dun base coat and the yellow and light brown stripes that gave the hebra her name. Stripes bugled a soft greeting to her, and immediately nudged her for the treat. Greedy beast. Sasha fed her the berry delicately and then led her back. She had helped train Stripes to the wagon, and she and I had spent many days gathering pongaberries and twintree fruit and wild onion.

  As we each picked up one end of the shoulder and chest strap to drop it over Stripes’s head, she asked, “Where do you go? You always leave on this day and come back sometime the following morning. Is it so you and Liam can have quiet time together?” There was a hint of mischief in her voice. “I bet you two can run fast enough to get to a lake cabin in less than a day.”

  I laughed, saved from answering by Liam’s enthusiastic, “Good morning!”

  It took us a few more moments to extract ourselves. The morning shadows were still long when we started off, purposely heading in the wrong direction. After about ten minutes of easy loping, warming and stretching our bodies in the cool air, we turned up, still angling wrong, increasing our speed, racing each other. Redberry bushes and grasses slapped my legs. Spiky trip-vine and stinging ivy threatened to tangle our feet. Where the trees thinned to scrub, we turned almost back on ourselves, heading for the top of the ridge that separated the High Road from Little Lace Lake. We stopped at the high point, breathing hard from the long run and scramble.

  He put an arm around me, holding me close, his breath only a little hard. “I love being out here, with just you and the wild.”

  I laughed at him, my face warm from more than just the run. “We’re always in the wild.”

  He shook his head. “Maybe it’s leaving Artistos. I’ve never liked town.”

  A pair of knotted twintrees—one taller than the other—twined around each other like lovers below us. Liam leaned down and kissed me, and I returned the kiss, fiery and hard. A tempting distraction.

  But the cave called. I pulled away gently and gazed up at him. “Let’s go.”

  We approached the cave from the top, dropping down, my feet stinging as I landed on the smooth floor. I reached up for the shelf we kept our flashlight on.

  My hand came back empty.

  “I have it.”

  Kayleen stood just inside the shadowed darkness of the cave’s mouth, sunlight touching her face and darkness filling the void behind her. Her legs were spread wide and stiff, her dark hair combed neatly around her face. The dark blue of her eyes glowed nearly black, glittering and feral, a contrast to her unusually neat appearance. Her voice went with her hair rather than h
er eyes, too sweet for Kayleen, as if she were speaking a line she’d practiced over and over: “Hi. I knew you’d come here. I wanted time to talk to you. I’m sorry for being rude last night.”

  Liam sat cross-legged on the floor, like he sometimes did when talking to a misbehaving child. Kayleen responded the same way children responded to the gesture, sitting herself, fairly close to him but opposite. I sat, too, so we made an uneasy triangle on the cave floor. I blinked at her, unsure what to say. I finally just said, “I’m sorry. I care about you, and I came looking because I hadn’t seen you.”

  Only then did she look directly at me. “Do you really miss me?” she asked.

  “Of course I do.” How could she question that?

  Her voice was even and sweet, cool. “I bet you don’t. You didn’t even look for me the first day you came down this time.”

  “I had to help set up for Trading Day. I watched for you all day.”

  “You’re in love. I see it in your eyes.” She glanced at Liam, the wildness in her eyes shaded with longing. For a moment she looked as vulnerable as a baby hebra before it stands the first time. I fought back a stab of hot jealousy.

  This was Kayleen, and I loved her. But I would not give up my happiness for her.

  Her eyes fell away from Liam and her gaze stuck itself to the smooth and nearly featureless cave floor. Her words spilled out low and fast. “I’ve been coming up here every few nights this spring. We can’t take years to learn. I have to do whatever Hunter and Nava and the other Council want, and even Mom won’t help me fight to change it. She says we have peace and we should keep it.” She looked at me. “I’m sick of acting like Nava’s slave.”

  Liam leaned forward, closing the gap between them, putting a hand on Kayleen’s shoulder. “No one has seen you come up here?”