Raging Star (35 page)

Now they’re wantin to shake our hands. There’s nods an smiles an the chatter of hopefulness surrounds me. I reckanise quite a few. They’re dry folk, these people, parched in body an spirit. Stand ’em next to the fresh green Stewards, they’d look poor specimens indeed.

Who are the best stewards of the earth? The old and weak? The sick? Or the young and the strong? There isn’t enough clean water or good land to go around. You know that
.

DeMalo’s words hiss in me. Slither in dark corners. Be silent, be gone, yer his thoughts, not mine.

Make way! Make way! Slim sails a path through the crowd, belly-first. Molly follows in his wake. His gappy grin stretches ear to ear. Whaddya say, Angel? Does all this put yer mind at rest?

I cain’t believe it, I says.

We’d barely got here ourselfs when they pitched up, says Molly. They caught us on the hop. But they jest set to without no fuss, diggin latrines an all else.

A wiry little man pardons his way through. He’s got a woman with worn red hair by the hand. They’ve both bin edged sharply by a lifetime of want. They got springtime years but wintertime faces. I don’t s’pose you remember us, he says.

You s’pose wrong, I says. How are you, Ruth? An—

Webb, he says. Webb Reno, ma’am. Ruth’s hangin on,
ain’tcha girl? Not givin up, jest like you told her to. You did us a great service that time. We come to help you fight. I mean me.

I’m glad to see you both, I says. What about food? I says to Slim. An water?

Only waterhole’s half a league off, says Slim. Moses don’t mind playin water carrier.

We didn’t have time to collect much in the way of provisions, says Molly. With what they brought, there’s enough fer a few days. I tell you somethin. She leans in close an lowers her voice. Some of these folk ain’t in the best shape, but every last one of ’em’s hell bent on doin their bit.

Beg pardon, ma’am, says Webb Reno. But d’you think there’s any chance we can find our girl they took? Our Nell? It’s all Ruth lives fer, me too, to have her back with us.

That trigger inside my head. It clicks agin. Nell. The same age as Emmi. If she’s still alive, she’ll be at Edenhome. We need a way in there. Maybe this man is it. I says, I cain’t promise nuthin. But let’s talk about it later.

When yer starved of hope, even lean words can make a meal. A spark leaps in their flat, faded eyes.

Oh, thank you! Thank you! Ruth seizes my hand an kisses it before I can stop her.

I ease from her grasp, gentle as I can. I says, If the day comes that I earn yer thanks, Ruth, offer me yer hand. I’ll be honoured to take it. Hand to hand, eye to eye. That’s what’s fittin between people.

I surely will, she says.

The crowd surges us towards Auriel Tai. I can see her waitin in front of her tent that’s bin pitched atop a small rise in the land. The same high-peaked tent made of tatters an patches that I remember so well from the Snake. The wind twitches at her long black shift.

I ain’t met everybody on this earth there is to meet. Still, I know there cain’t be none other like Auriel. This star reader servant of the light. Sixteen an fine boned as a sparrow, with skin the clear white of a watery moon. Her milkfire hair hangs loose to her waist, threaded with feathers an beads. A dark eyeshield covers her eyes. Any glint of light—the sun on water, say—can set her off in a vision so fierce she’ll be laid out cold on the ground.

Auriel knows my black water. She knows it like nobody else. In night skies an lightnin, she’s read me. Past an future. Mind an soul. She’s roamed the grey plains of my dreams.

I knew what she looked like. I knew her to be sixteen. But her power is such that since I left her at the Snake, my memory’s changed her to someone more like Mercy. A older woman with long knowledge of the world. A little spray of shock hits me at the sight of this small girl.

As I stop jest below her on the slope, Nero lands on my shoulder. I can feel the press of bodies behind me. All of my people. All of her people.

She stands there quietly. The chatter stops dead. She raises
her voice so none miss her words. They fall clear as spring rain upon a lake. The hotwind dies down, as if soothed by the sound.

The starworld is unsettled, she says. Change in the skies foretells change here on earth. The stars told us to leave our Snake River camp. They sent us here to this place. They sent us to be of service to Saba. My Snake River friends know this land well. It was their land before the Pathfinder came. Before he stole it from them an named it New Eden. He stole their children, their hope fer the future. He killed an enslaved their loved ones. Their friends an their neighbours. They fled in fear of their lives. Yet here they are, returned. Prepared to risk all in the hope of real freedom. The stars say that hope lies with Saba. We wait upon her command.

She motions fer me to come to her. As I go up the slope, settin Nero loose to fly, my Free Hawks crowd behind me. Slim an Molly, Ash an Creed, Tommo an Lugh.

I glance back at them. I’ll see her on my own, I says.

Lugh says, But surely I can—

On my own, Lugh, I says.

He stops with a frown. He has a iron dislike fer Auriel, forged in his soul by our star-scarred life. He despised her the moment he set eyes on her at the Snake. Thanks to our misbegotten father, he’s always spat at the very mention of star readin. Auriel ain’t no never-was, not like Pa. But despite that she proved to a certainty she ain’t no fake—maybe becuz she did—Lugh will
not give her credence. He’d claim disbelief even if she raised our mother from the dead right in front of him.

She’s holdin the tent flap open. As I’m about to duck inside, she lays a cool hand on my arm. Where’s Emmi? she says.

Not here, I says. She’s back at base.

Auriel goes completely still. Jest fer a moment. Like that warn’t the answer she espected. Then, Come in, Saba, she says.

The tent of a shaman ain’t jest her home. It’s the place where seekers come. To hear her speak startold secrets of their lives. To journey drugged dreams born of strange powders on the fire. It’s odd to see Auriel’s tent here in New Eden, jest as it was at the Snake. The cot, the stool, the chest, the little table. All of it plain, rough stuff. By the firepit, her rocker chair an tin box of dream powders. Their smell hangs thick in the air. Sweet an sharp an strange.

She settles in her rocker like thistledown. I pull up the stool an sit, facin her.

The hotwind that was leashed by her voice now roams free. The tent walls billow an snap. The harsh light of middle day’s softened here inside. It’s safe fer Auriel to take off her
eyeshield. I know what I’ll see, but a tiny shock jest the same thrills me. She’s got eyes like Tracker. The palest blue of a thin winter sky. Uncanny wolfdog eyes.

I wait fer her to speak. She don’t say nuthin. She jest holds me with her steady gaze. I feel a red heat wash my neck. She knows about me an DeMalo. She knows about my tangle of lies. Of course she does. I so wish she didn’t. Auriel’s all air. She skims above the ground. Not fer her the hot earth of bodies. The drag of unwanted desire.

She told me I’d meet DeMalo. She told me to beware of him. She begged me to stay longer with her, so I’d be more prepared. She said other things, too, an I shrugged her off. All I could think of was goin after Jack.

I should of heeded you, I says. You warned me about him. You said he would know my shadows. He does. I … I lay with him, I—why am I sayin this? You already know.

The time’s short, she says. The blood moon draws near. What would you have my people do?

I give a little laugh. What would I have them do? I says. You know very well. Go onto the farms, back to the land. An I gotta git them kids away from Edenhome—if Webb Reno’s girl is there, she’ll be the key—but I need you to tell me what I gotta do after that. I bin thinkin an tryin to work out that final move that’ll bring all these things together an bring DeMalo down. I know that’s what’s gotta happen. The babyhouse, the slaves, how I needed these people from the Snake—that
all came to me pretty clear. But after Edenhome, I cain’t see nuthin. It’s jest blackness. I bin so badly needin to see you, Auriel. Even you probly got no idea how much.

To my dismay, my voice wobbles. I gather it up an carry on.

Jest … please, I says. All I want is fer you to tell me what I gotta do to finish this.

I’m so sorry, she says. I cain’t.

A chill runs over my skin. Of course you can, I says. It’s my destiny. You told me so yerself. You said long before I was born a train of events was set in motion. You said all my roads lead to DeMalo an you was right, they have. An you told me—an my pa did too an he warn’t much of a star reader—you both said, all these people would need me an they do. An you said I mustn’t give up an I don’t. Yer grandfather knew about me. He gave you his bow to give to me. So, I don’t unnerstand. I jest need to know this one … this one last thing becuz I hafta git it right. So I need you—please—to tell me … please tell me what I need to do, Auriel. If this is my destiny, you must know.

Things ain’t the same as they was, she says. That’s why the tumult in the stars. You’ve changed so much, Saba. Yer changin all the time, so quickly. You ain’t the same girl you was at the Snake. You ain’t the same person you was two days ago, yesterday, this mornin. Who you are is yer destiny. As you change, so it changes. Do you see? Yer remakin yer destiny, rewritin it as you go, every moment of every day.

I am?

Yes, she says. The future is yers to shape.

I make my destiny myself, I says.

By the choices you make, she says.

But—there’s too much at stake, I says. So many lives. I dunny what DeMalo’s got planned. Here’s all these people an—How will I know if I’m doin the right thing?

The right thing is to do what yer doin, she says. Take one step at a time. Moment by moment, step by step, that’s how you got here. That’s how you’ll git there. An in every moment, as you choose, stay true to yerself. Who you really are. What you believe. You ain’t like nobody else.

There’s silence between us a long moment.

That’s all you got to say to me, I says. When I ask fer yer help, when I need to know, when—

I hafta stop fer a moment. The hot tightness of fear has my voice.

This ain’t nuthin, I whisper.

It’s everythin, she says.

My head’s poundin. The hotwind circles the tent. I can hear the chatter of voices outside. I feel distant from myself. Like I ain’t in my body. The tent walls bluster an threaten. In an out. They close in on me. There’s a roarin sound in my ears.

I stand. So does she. She reaches up to my face. Her fingers rest on my birthmoon tattoo.

Never lose sight of what you believe in, she says. Never, no matter what happens. What one person does affects the many. We’re all bound together, Saba. All threads in a single garment of destiny.

As I halt from the tent, the wind blasts at me, hot an gritty. I’m numb. I cain’t believe it. Auriel cain’t help me. I bin countin on her to see my way clear. Two nights to the blood moon. Two nights.

What now?

What do I do?

The voices shout at me from the bottom of the hill. Everybody that was there when I went in to see Auriel is still hangin around. Her people. My Free Hawk gang. All waitin, eager to be told what comes next. Where they’re goin. What’s gonna happen. My heart starts to pound. I need to think. I head away from them, fast as I can.

They come rushin after, yellin questions at me.

When do we fight? cries a man.

We don’t, I says loudly. I don’t turn to look. I keep walkin.

We need guns, calls another man. Bows an arrows.

No weapons, I says. This ain’t no blood vengeance.

We got guns in plenty. It’s Creed’s voice. More’n we’ll ever need, right here beneath our feet. Tunnels full of ’em.

I turn to face them. I said, no weapons! I yell.

A great furore erupts. Then why’re we here? We’ll go it alone! No weapons? That’s crazy.

I raise my voice to be heard above the noise. It’s the smartest an quickest way to win this fight!

Climb up where they can see you. Here! says Slim. On the cart!