Doublesight (7 page)

Zimp indicated that it was time for Brok to speak.

He lowered his head farther than the nod he had given at first. His curly hair fell around his dark brown face obscuring it for a moment. When he lifted his head he threw his hair back with a twitch of his neck. “I am Brok Taltost,” he said with pride.

Breel reached for his arm. Tears were in her eyes.

“This is my little sister, Breel Taltost.” His head lowered to include Therin, “And my brother, Therin Taltost.”

Oro smiled brightly. “Oh, oh, oh. Then it is my personal honor to be in your company. For we are blessed to be sure.” She looked at Zimp. “We are in the presence of the children of Fremlin Taltost.” Oro placed her hands together and bowed to the three thylacine doublesight siblings.

Zimp cocked her head.

Arren, who stood just outside the circle of seated crow clan, spoke up. “Fremlin Taltost once stood as High Guard to the Three Princes of Crell. He held Crell Center almost single handedly against the attack from Southern Weilk, then known as Stilth.”

“That was before the Three Princes of Crell joined with Stilth to make Stilth Alshore,” Brok said. He appeared pleased that someone knew his father.

Hearing the story, Zimp recalled her history lessons. “It is my pleasure as well,” she pulled her cloak around her and bent at the knees and lowered her head in respect. When she stood and looked over at Oro, the woman was motioning with her head.

“Your candle,” she said.

Zimp felt her face turn flush. “I didn't bring one.”

Oro reached into her other pocket and pulled an orange candle from it. She stretched it toward Zimp. “Never be without the proper
sacred tools again. You are heir to the leadership of our clan and you will act appropriately.”

Zimp took the candle from Oro and noticed Arren's glib smile. Her blood rushed faster to her face, but she stayed collected. With the candle, Zimp turned toward the thylacines and kneeled so that she could light the candle from the fire. Like Oro had done before her, Zimp let some wax fall to the ground and set the candle firmly into it. She placed her hands together over the flame and spoke into the candle so softly that she hoped no one could hear her. “To this sacred moment and to this sacred place, I acknowledge my shame in not being prepared. I place in the hands of the other realms my future. And, I accept that Brok, Breel, and Therin are here for some purpose that I may not yet know. To the Gods.”

She looked up and Brok reached out to help her stand. She shook her head to get him to back away.

“Sit, my honored friends,” Oro said. “Tell me how you came to be here. Tell me how your parents are, the rest of your family?”

Breel burst into tears and Brok placed a hand over her shoulder. Therin buried his head into her lap.

“They are all dead,” Brok said straight out, as though there were no other way to get the information from his memory than to let it gush from him. “Attacked while we returned from an evening outing.”

“There was a big surprise that Daddy wanted to tell us about,” Breel said through sobs. “He made us wait. We were celebrating.” She coughed into her hand.

“A short trip for the family, perhaps?” Oro said.

Brok stirred noticeably. He looked as though he wanted to stand in anger, in surprise. Zimp couldn't tell which it was.

“How would you know?” Brok said.

Arren stepped forward and closer to the fire where he could be seen. “We are all going.”

Oro cut him off. “You,” she said, pointing a finger at him, “will not speak at this moment.” Noticeably angered, Oro turned back toward Brok and let her entire demeanor change. She became soft.

Zimp watched her grandmother with amazement.

“The Few have called a council meeting of all the clans of the doublesight,” Oro told them. “They have asked us to bring our families.
Our immediate families,” she said. “Although, you can see that we travel in larger groups than that.” She indicated Arren and the rest of the camp. “They will wait outside the encampment of the council until we are through.”

Brok pulled his sister close.

“You, my young man, will now attend with us. You and your travel mates,” Oro said. “You must go in your father's place. I would be honored to announce your arrival and personally introduce you to The Few.”

“We can travel alone,” Brok said. “We were going south.”

Breel pulled back to look at his face then pulled on his arm. “Alone,” she said.

Oro reached for Zimp to help her get off her knees and sit on the bench once again. “As the son of Fremlin, you may choose to do what you will. But the council of the doublesight has called to your family. Your father must have imparted to you the importance of such a request.” Oro waited for a moment.

Breel whispered, “Please,” into Brok's ear.

There was silence for a long while. Zimp didn't know what to do but felt that Oro was waiting for her to say something. She rustled around for a moment and all eyes turned toward her. From her belt hung a small deer hide pouch. She pulled it around so that she could open it. She reached inside and removed a beautiful ring too large for her fingers. The blue and white stone sparkled in the firelight. She threw it to Brok. “A peace offering,” she said.

Brok caught the ring in one hand. “It's my ring,” he said. “You stole my ring. How? You were never close enough.”

“Closeness has little to do with it,” Zimp said.

“You stole my ring, my grandfather's ring, from me, and now want me to accept it as a peace offering?”

Zimp stretched tall and clenched her teeth. She glanced at Oro, offended by Brok's response. Under any other circumstances, that ring would have been as good as gone. Disappeared forever. Thieves do not return stolen items. Never. Her act was one of respect and humility and he acted upset? How dare he?

Oro laughed and they all looked at her. “Our ways are different than yours,” she said to Brok. “We keep what we take. If you do not
hold it close it becomes ours. Exposing herself to you is not only honorable, but thought to be an act of blessing and respect. It is like saying a prayer for you every day for a year.” She stopped and looked into the fire for a moment, trying to remember something. “I know. It is like the honor you place on a beast-only, on a permanent thylacine if you find it dead. You wear its pelt to honor its existence. Having the pelt, or a tooth or claw necklace, is a reminder that you as a doublesight could not change shape if that shape did not also exist wholly as a beast.”

Brok didn't look very convinced. “Do not steal it again,” he said, appearing to be more of a threat than a statement.

“She won't,” Oro said. “Not without returning it willingly. Once an item is returned in such a way, like this ring, it can only become the piece in a game, never again as an item to be stolen and kept.”

“My father wore it. He passed it to me several days ago.” To Zimp he said, “Do not take it again.”

Breaking the seriousness of the conversation, the orange candle Zimp had used popped and spit and burst into flames, throwing a fireball straight into the air. All around the camp a cheer went up. Drums began to be pounded and people got to their feet to dance.

Oro threw her hands up and let them slap onto her thighs. “That was the only extra candle I had with me.” She smiled brightly at Zimp, a flash of elation took over her face. “I suppose we dance and welcome our dead into the next realm.” Arren advanced into the circle and reached for Oro's hand. She took it, to Zimp's surprise.

“I don't know if I can do this tonight,” Zimp said.

“Your sister needs to speak to you,” Oro said.

“But she has spoken to me. I can't say goodbye. Not yet. I don't want to celebrate her passing. I'm not ready.”

“Very well, my granddaughter. You can postpone your dance, but you can hear from the sound of the drum that the rest of the clan cannot wait. Go, then. We begin to travel early. I hope to be at the council grounds late tomorrow evening.”

Oro bowed to Brok and the other two thylacines. “You may do as your custom suggests. You will answer our invitation by morning. If you wish to leave, we'll supply food and weapons.” She took a breath. “I am sorry about Therin. I am truly sorry. You will have to
watch him closely as his instincts may become much stronger than you can imagine.”

Breel rubbed Therin's forehead and the thylacine whined in pleasure.

Zimp followed Arren and Oro as they rounded the fire and headed toward the field where the dancing had already begun. Before she peeled off to head for the wagon, Oro took her wrist.

“I sent you to welcome them as guests and you steal his ring?” Oro said.

“That is what we do, Grandmother. Had it been anyone else you would have been proud.”

“It was not someone else,” the old woman said. “And I sent you to keep them safe.”

“He threatened us.”

“And you stole from him. Then, too,” she said with a nod, “it was a pretty jewel.”

Zimp kissed Oro's cheek. Perhaps the last comment was an acknowledgment that Zimp had made a wise choice, perhaps it was the only concession Oro felt she could offer at the time.

That evening, Zimp lay face down in her cot. The wagon cover muffled the sound of joy and song. She heard the rising wail of the celebrants, and the loud sizzle when the bound grass was thrown onto the fire. She listened to the drumbeat climb and fall, and imagined the rise of elation and fall of sadness that the clan would go through. She lay in the dark, letting her chest heave with the rise and sink with the fall of her own emotions as they moved through humiliation, distrust, and fear. Brok openly disrespected her. His arrogance grew stronger when Arren recognized his father's name and recalled Fremlin's history. Even though she tried to understand that Brok might not know of her traditions, there was something about the way he carried himself, always ready to act, that felt dangerous to her. The anger in his aura when she first looked at him oozed from his character like sweat from the body.

“Collect the herbs to stop the bleeding,” she heard in a whisper. She held her breath and listened closely, discarding her previous concentration.

“First thoughts, then words, then symbols, then actions,” Zora said. “Yes.”

“Why did you die?” Zimp said into the blackness of the inside of the wagon.

“So you could hear,” Zora said, “and now you don't.” Zora laughed until the sound of her voice faded, as though her physical body escaped through the top of the canvas, traveled into the woods, and disappeared.

8

DARKNESS FELL QUICKLY under the tightly woven canopy of the deep Dgosh forest. Lankor held onto his staff with his right hand. His ears perked at every sound outside his family's steps and movements. He could see ahead that Rend, too, had his hand on his broadsword. Mianna gripped Nayman's arm, as though her presence was essential to keep him upright.

Rend halted. Mianna and Nayman stopped but one step afterward.

Lankor trudged on to see why they had stopped. When Rend's hand went up, Lankor halted his own movements, began to breathe in shallow breaths, and listened for unnatural sounds. But it wasn't sound that arrested his attention. The passing odor of human sweat lingered for a moment. He checked in with his body. He wasn't sweating. The air stood still, thick. Perhaps it was Nayman. He worked hardest. But Lankor knew his brother's smell. He lowered his grip on his staff and lifted the weapon off the ground slightly. He leaned toward Mianna and Nayman. “I smell humans,” he whispered.

Rend motioned behind him for them to retreat.

Before Lankor could register the sound, the whoosh of an arrow broke the silence. It sped through the air, only to be interrupted by Rend's quick reflexes as he lifted the blade of his broadsword.

Mianna pulled Nayman to the ground as another arrow skimmed a nearby tree and sang over their heads.

Lankor could hardly see in the dark and wondered how their attacker could see well enough to aim an arrow. He advanced to where his mother and brother kneeled.

Nayman's sword was drawn and being used as a shield. Mianna had removed her pack and drew it in front of her facing the direction from which the arrows came.

Rend, in an unbelievable movement, altered the path of yet another arrow.

“How can he see?” Lankor asked.

Mianna motioned for silence and Lankor realized that Rend couldn't see well in the dark, but that he listened for the arrow cutting through the humid air, and let his reflexes do the rest.

Rend backed slowly until he was close to them. He lowered onto one knee, “They can't see well enough to aim perfectly.” His voice was almost inaudible. “Arrows are only coming from there,” he pointed before them, “one at a time. They must have been coming toward us and were surprised by our presence. Boys? Flank them. They can't be more than a few hundred feet given the speed of the arrows and this dense part of the forest. Mianna, take my pack.” He slipped the shoulder straps down his arms, careful to have his sword ready. “Back up and get behind the biggest tree.”

Nayman, despit having a crippled foot, moved more quietly than a cougar. Lankor matched his brother's stealth in the opposite direction. He heard another clank.

Thick shadows darkened the area. They were not only difficult to see into, they provided places to hide for their attacker. A sliver of moon rested in the sky overhead; its light fell as if through a canvas bag. When Lankor noticed a glimmer of white, it was often moisture that had accumulated on a leaf and not the ricochet from the point of an arrow. He circled wide until he caught the scent he noticed earlier. He kneeled behind a tree and waited. He and Nayman had no way to indicate to one another when they were in position. On bent knees, Lankor slipped from behind one tree to a neighboring tree, all the while straining his eyes for movement, sniffing the air for the tart scent of body sweat.

“Hey,” Lankor heard someone say. He stopped mid-step.

“Got ‘em,” another man said.

Lankor heard them take a few steps and then stop. How many were there? He continued behind one tree and then the next. He rested his hand against the rough bark and placed his face along the
tree trunk as protection. In very dim light, Lankor observed three shadows, the only shadows that broke off at human height and moved. Standing still, he heard the strings of a bow screeching softly as it was pulled back. He took a deep breath then heard the trill of a morning bird. Nayman.