Doublesight (14 page)

Zimp got shivers up her spine at the motion.

Idune said, “Yes.”

“What's your sense about these three?” Brull said.

Idune lifted a thin arm and stretched a long finger toward Zimp, then Noot, then Breel saying, “Crow, crow, thylacine.”

Brull shrugged his shoulders. “There you go.”

“An intuitive,” Zimp said.

Bennek laughed and stroked Idune's arm gently. “She is nearing birth,” he said as though that was answer enough.

Brull reached out and hugged Zimp before she could react. His arms wrapped around her as he pulled her tight against him. He let go and did the same to Noot. With Breel, he hesitated, then placed his hand at her head and let it slide down along her hair. His fingers stroked a few strands clear to their ends below her shoulder. He backed and turned to retrieve the cart.

“There is something terribly strange about these people,” Zimp said.

“What do you notice?” Breel tested as though she were Oro.

Zimp smiled at her. “Seven trees behind them. The wind bends each in a different direction. They are each a different type of tree.”

“That is strange, to be sure,” Breel said. “Perhaps they do not hold the same image.”

“Exactly,” Zimp said.

“That's not normal,” Noot said.

Breel glared at him. “Thylacines traveling with crows. And that's normal?”

“But they are one family,” Noot said.

“I knew what you meant.” Breel reached for Noot's arm and walked into the woods holding it. “That wouldn't be so bad, a mixed family, would it?” she teased.

Noot pulled his arm loose. “You're not funny.” He ran on ahead. “I'll inform the others.”

Zimp laughed as Noot ran by. “I'd like to see you do that with Arren.”

“He wouldn't run off, I'm afraid. I'm the one who would feel slimy. He brushed against me the other day, on purpose, attempting to feel how solid my stance was.”

“How do you know that?” Zimp said.

“In thylacine image, we play like that. Pushing and shoving, trying to mow one another over. It's fun.” She got quiet for a moment. “It was fun.”

Zimp slowed and turned toward Breel. “I'm sorry about your family. I've never said it out loud, but I've been sorry.”

“You lost a sister,” Breel said. She began to walk again, shrugged her shoulders as though death suddenly made sense. “What happened to your parents?”

“When I was young, we were in Crell at Westlake on a southern trip. Crell at Westlake is a beautiful city if you haven't been there. I still remember the sparkling beaches, the miles of shells and colored stones. It was magic. We danced and played music nearly every night and the people loved us. But they didn't know we were stealing from them. We could have taken anything. And we did. But there is only so much time we can spend in any one city before we are noticed, before someone finds out. We stayed too long. Oro had made the warning known and gathered up Zora and me. My mother moved on with us, but a half-day's travel south, we got word that a battle had broken out and she flew back for my father. We waited three days before moving on.”

“The townspeople never came after you?”

“Oro said that Crell hated and feared the doublesight. All that had to happen was for several of our clan to shift image and the people of Crell would have fought in fear.”

“Fear makes a warrior a difficult opponent,” Breel said. “Do you miss them? Did you blame Oro?”

Zimp laughed. “Oro channeled our mother so well that it was like she was there with us for years. She channeled our father, too, but he moved on to another realm, and then another, until Oro lost track of him. Our mother eventually followed and we slowly became used to having only Oro.”

“But you are an intuitive,” Breel said. “Couldn't you channel your own mother?”

“I did for a while. I suppose I resented her, too. For returning to Crell and getting killed. Zora maintained the link much longer than I did, even though my connection had been stronger at the beginning. I stepped away from contact.”

“Zora was an intuitive, too?”

“All crow image doublesight have an intuitive side. In crow image especially, we can see into at least two realms, if we wish. As human, there are a wide variety of levels of intuition stemming from a sense about something to full channeling like what Oro is capable of.”

“She's a wizard, isn't she?” Breel said. “I've seen her behind the wagon mixing things, looking into a cup filled halfway with tea leaves. She had a small sack last evening and dumped it onto the
ground. There were leaves, buds, sticks, stones, shells. She stood over them a long time moving her lips. She read them.”

The two of them were almost back at camp. “She's been teaching me, too. Some of it is impossible to learn. Oro sees so much more than I do. But I'm learning. I hear Zora more that ever, now. I've relearned how to listen. There is a sort-of trick to it.”

In the clearing, Oro sat next to a cold fire pit. “Where have you been?”

“Those Flandeans are doublesight,” Zimp said. “But there's something strange about them.”

“Strange?”

Breel nudged Zimp, “Tell her what you noticed.”

“What did you see?” Oro said.

“Seven trees behind them. The wind bent each in a different direction. They are each a different type of tree,” Zimp repeated.

“Flandeans are known for their mixing,” Oro said. “Perhaps only seven are doublesight. How many are there?”

“Ten,” Zimp said.

“Three humans. Don't tell me one is Brull Willenstock.” Oro pushed her hands to her knees and stood.

“He's a council member?” Zimp said.

“It's difficult to say for sure. Once a year the council meets. He comes to the council once every several years. Not that I blame him. He must feel terribly uncomfortable.” Oro reached out and gripped Zimp's forearm with one hand and Breel's forearm with the other. “He's human, you know. Human only. There is a hunger in him to be a doublesight. That is the way of many people from Flande.”

“He hugged me,” Zimp said.

“Rude. That's him.” Oro looked away as though thinking back. “He is a fake. He tries too hard to be part of the doublesight. We need humans to understand us. There could be many Flandeans who would be more worthy to represent the humans. I never understood why they would pick Brull.”

“So they are mixed,” Breel said.

“Oh, you don't know the half of it,” Oro said.

16

BROK SCRATCHED HIS SHOULDER where the wound had been. Little was left of it but the itching caused by the healing of the final layer of skin. He thought of the carcasses left behind. Nothing had been buried. He hoped that thylacines fed off his family, nourishing his own kind in some small way. He had taken to sleeping under one of the wagons and often woke up, like this morning, with Therin and Breel by his side. He rolled from under the wagon. This time it was Arren's wagon, which nestled between two cedars nearest the edge of the council grounds.

“Slept in?” Arren sat with his back against a tree several feet away.

“I could have slept longer.”

“I don't doubt it. You were all up last night, roaming the forest out there.” He motioned beyond the camp. “What do you do all night? Kill?”

Brok bent at the waist and stretched his arms to the ground until his fingers brushed the dead leaves and needles that lay at his feet. When he returned to an upright position, he cracked his neck by bending his ear to his shoulder on one side, then to the other. “Kill,” he said. “Not often. Only when we're attacked by another animal. Of course you'd like to think that I kill on instinct, without regard for the life I take. Like an animal. Perhaps you're hoping that I performed a kill for you?”

“You're not funny, little man. I should have known you couldn't do it.”

Brok sauntered over to Arren and looked down at him. “Of all people, you should know what it's like to be in beast image. I don't
know about you, but we play. We relish in the senses of the beast. Sometimes, when I'm human again, my memory allows me to catch a scent that illuminates within me. A scent with color and texture, a trace of my beast image memory.” He bent down to Arren's level. “I couldn't agree to anything for you that evening. When I shifted, I smelled your fear. It stunk of weakness. I could never do the dirty work for a weak person. That would only make me weaker than you.”

Arren turned his head away. “What you did, your ceremony, was disgusting. You could do that. You could eat the heart from your own parents.” He wrinkled his face.

“You could ask a stranger to kill for you, so that you can falsely step into a role you are not yet able to perform. Being in front of the line of wagons does not make you the leader.”

“You'd align with her?”

Brok laughed and rose so that he could look down at Arren. The man tensed as though he thought Brok was about to strike him. “I align with no one unless I have chosen to. I am simply grateful for the hospitality your people have shown me. It must be difficult having such a predator inside your own camp. I notice most of you step aside when we come around. Some place a hand over the hilt of a sword or knife when Therin's near. You think we don't notice?”

“Do you blame us?”

“My father once said that fear alone can make someone kill. He meant fear of any kind. Fear in the face of death, fear of not being heard, fear of losing something precious. For you, it is fear of your true self. By controlling others, you don't have to face who you are.”

“A Godless philosopher.” Arren spit on the ground next to him.

“Fremlin also said that all doublesight had one thing in common.” Brok rotated on the balls of his feet.

“What thing is that?” Arren said.

Brok walked into the woods toward the council tent. He touched the bark of some of the trees as he passed them, felt the deep gouges of one and the smooth surface of another. The bark of the aspen crumbled under his fingers. He tried to take a different path toward the council center each time he walked. On this day he circumvented the larger area of the camp and entered from due north. He wandered near small open places, observing other doublesight as he
slipped past. Each day the entire camp waited. One family had yet to arrive. On his walk he was reminded of his own family, how they would take long walks through the woods, shift into their beast images, and play in a fairyland of intense odors and sounds no human could sense. Why had the humans not tried to attack the council grounds? They must have known of the meeting.

A crow cawed deep in the woods and startled Brok. He instantly grabbed his sword handle and crouched ready to spring into action. He listened and heard breathing and running getting closer, and realized it was Therin tracking him down. His brother came out of the woods and over to him. Brok bent down and stroked the thylacine's head and patted its body.

“I am sorry. I should have waited before I sent a warning,” Storret said as he stepped from behind a tree.

“Your job is to guard the camp,” Brok said.

Storret bent down and stroked Therin behind the ear, rubbing it gently. Therin leaned into the scout's hand.

“You're not afraid of him?”

“Should I be? You forget I was witness to your ceremony. How could anyone not be compassionate after that?”

“It didn't sicken you like it did some of the others?” Brok found his own curiosity as interesting as Storret's ease around Therin.

“Sure it did. That was a bit emotional to watch. But a sacred ceremony takes on a unique level of awe as it is performed. It takes much more time and focus for me to draw from the depths of my intuitive nature. I go there much easier while in crow image, but I could sense the compassion, the sadness.” Storret lowered his head and shook it. “You've never watched our dances. You've not been witness to our unique ways yet. Wait until you are exposed to us, or to the bear doublesight, hawk doublesight, or even horse doublesight. I've been all over The Great Land and have learned that every sacred ceremony is based on some deeply felt emotion, often tied to a belief.” Storret patted Brok's shoulder. “Here's a tip for life: never try to change a belief that someone else has. Beliefs are the deepest elements of a person and often chart their entire lives. You can only change your own beliefs.”

“I'll remember that.”

“Mind if I walk with you? You are going for something to eat, are you not?” Storret led the way.

“You don't have to go back to guard duty?”

“There are others. Come on, we'll talk.”

Brok spent the morning with Storret. At the council tent, other doublesight stepped back to give them room as long as Therin stood at his brother's heels. Brok and Storret had fun with it for a while, edging near a table of fruit or eggs, and giving each other the eye as other doublesight stepped out of the way. Finally, Brok asked Therin to lie down near the edge of the tent and wait for them. Brok then brought back the cooked leg of a boar to Therin, who ate the meat and then ground into the bone all the while Brok and Storret talked.

A strained discussion broke out at the table just as Brok and Storret sat down near Therin.

“Everyone's on edge. This waiting is not helping us get along with one another,” Storret said.

“One family, right?” A man with large brown eyes said. “Why can't we just have this big meeting without them? What if they aren't coming?”

“Oh, they'll be here late tonight. I heard it from one of the hawk doublesight,” a woman said.

“Who are the last family? How many are there?” Brok said.

“What are they, you mean. I don't know,” the man asked.

“They must be important,” Brok said.

“We're all important,” Storret said.

“You've been to these meetings before?” another man said.

“Not at all. Unfortunately.” Storret stared into Brok's face. “I love being here though. After you've seen what I've seen, something changes inside you. You want to see more, know more. A curiosity sets in. I've envied Oro's coming here. I can't wait to see what her real function is. You don't get called The Gem of the Forest for nothing.” He smiled as a memory appeared to cross through his mind. “I've escorted Oronice several times, only to wait well outside the campgrounds until she was through. I heard a lot of chanting and drumming, a lot of talking, but never enough to satisfy my curiosity. But look, now we're here, and we're a part of it.” Storret stuffed a piece of apple into his mouth. He turned to Brok. “Tell me about your father. I've only heard of him. What was he really like? Was he difficult to live with?”