Dreamsnake (31 page)

The cultivated fields and well-built houses of Mountainside lay
far behind Arevin at the end of his third day’s travel south. The
road was now a trail, rising and falling along the edges of
successive mountains, leading now casually through a pleasant
valley, now precariously across scree. The country grew higher and
wilder. Arevin’s stolid horse plodded on.

No one had passed him all day, in either direction. He could
easily be overtaken by anyone else traveling south: anyone who knew
the trail better, anyone who had a destination, would surely catch
and pass him. But he remained alone. He felt chilled by the mountain
air, enclosed and oppressed by the mountains’ sheer walls and the
dark overhanging trees. He was conscious of the beauty of the
countryside, but the beauty he was used to was that of his
homeland’s arid plains and plateaus. He was homesick, but he could
not go home. He had the proof of his own eyes that the eastern
desert’s storms were more powerful than those in the west, but the
difference was one of quantity rather than kind. A western storm
killed unprotected creatures in twenty breaths; an eastern one would
do it in ten. He must stay in the mountains until spring.

He could not simply wait, at the healers’ station or in
Mountainside. If he did nothing but wait, his imagination would
overpower his conviction that Snake was alive. And if he began to
believe she was dead: that was dangerous, not only to his sanity but
to Snake herself. Arevin knew he could not perform magic any more
than Snake could, magical as her accomplishments might appear, but
he was afraid to imagine her death.

She was probably safe in the underground city, gathering new
knowledge that would atone for the actions of Arevin’s cousin.
Arevin reflected that Stavin’s younger father was lucky he did not
have to pay for his terror himself. Lucky for him, unlucky for
Snake. Arevin wished he had good news to give her when he did find
her. But all he would be able to say was, “I have explained, I have
tried to make your people understand my people’s fear. But they gave
me no answer: they want to see you. They want you to go home.”

At the edge of a meadow, thinking he heard something, he stopped
his horse. The silence was a presence of its own, all around him,
subtly different from the silence of a desert.

Have I begun imagining sounds, now, he wondered, as well as her
touch in the night?

But then, from the trees ahead, he heard again the vibrations of
animals’ hooves. A small herd of delicate mountain deer appeared,
trotting across the glade toward him, their twig-thin legs flashing
white, long supple necks arched high. Compared to the huge musk oxen
Arevin’s clan herded, the fragile deer were like toys. They were
nearly silent; it was the horses of their herders that had alerted
him. His horse, lonely for its own kind, neighed.

The herders, waving, cantered up to him and pulled their mounts
to flamboyant stops. They were both youngsters, with sun-bronzed
skin and short-cut pale blond hair, kin by the look of them. At
Mountainside Arevin had felt out of place in his desert robes, but
that was because people mistook him for the crazy. He had not
thought it necessary to change his manner of dress after he made his
intentions clear. But now, the two children looked at him for a
moment, looked at each other, and grinned. He began to wonder if he
should have purchased new clothes. But he had little money and he
did not wish to use it for what was not absolutely necessary.

“You’re a long way from the trade routes,” the older herder said.
His tone was not belligerent but matter-of-fact. “Need any help?”

“No,” Arevin said. “But I thank you.” Their deer herd milled
around him, the animals making small sounds of communion with each
other, more like birds than hoofed creatures. The younger herder
gave a sudden whoop and waved her arms. The deer scattered in all
directions. Another difference between this herd and the one Arevin
kept: a musk ox’s response to a human on horseback flailing their
arms would be to amble over and see what the fun was.

“Gods, Jean, you’ll scare off everything from here to
Mountainside.” But he did not seem perturbed about the deer, and in
fact they reassembled into a compact group a little way down the
trail. Arevin was struck again by the willingness to reveal personal
names in this country, but he supposed he had better get used to it.

“Can’t talk with the beasties underfoot,” she said, and smiled at
Arevin. “It’s good to see another human face after looking at
nothing but trees and deer. And my brother.”

“Have you seen no one else on the trail, then?” That was more a
statement than a question. If Snake had returned from Center and the
herders had overtaken her, it would have made much more sense for
them all to travel together.

“Why? You looking for someone?” The young man sounded suspicious,
or perhaps just wary. Could he have met Snake after all? Arevin,
too, might ask impertinent questions of a stranger in order to
safeguard a healer. And he would do considerably more than that for
Snake.

“Yes,” he said. “A healer. A friend. Her horse is a gray, and she
has a tiger-pony as well, and a child riding with her. She would be
coming north, back from the desert.”

“She’s not, though.”

“Jean!”

Jean scowled at her brother. “Kev, he doesn’t look like anybody
who would hurt her. Maybe he needs her for somebody sick.”

“And maybe he’s friends with that crazy,” the brother said. “Why
are you looking for her?”

“I’m a friend of the healer,” Arevin said again, alarmed. “Did
you see the crazy? Is Snake safe?”

“This one’s all right,” Jean said to Kev.

“He didn’t answer my question.”

“He said he was her friend. Maybe it’s none of your business.”

“No, your brother has the right to question me,” Arevin said.
“And perhaps the obligation. I’m looking for Snake because I told
her my name.”

“What is your name?”

“Kev!” Jean said, shocked.

Arevin smiled for the first time since meeting these two. He was
growing used to abrupt customs. “That is not something I would tell
either of you,” he said pleasantly.

Kev scowled in embarrassment.

“We do know better,” Jean said. “It’s just all this time out here
away from people.”

“Snake is coming back,” Arevin said, his voice a little strained
with excitement and joy. “You saw her. How long ago?”

“Yesterday,” Kev said. “But she isn’t coming this way.”

“She’s going south,” Jean said.

“South!”

Jean nodded. “We were up here getting the herd before it snows.
We met her when we came down from high pasture. She bought one of
the pack horses for the crazy to ride.”

“But why is she with the crazy? He attacked her! Are you sure he
was not forcing her to go with him?”

Jean laughed. “No, Snake was in control. No doubt about that.”

Arevin did not doubt her, so he could put aside the worst of his
fear. But he was still uneasy. “South,” he said. “What lies south of
here? I thought there were no towns.”

“There aren’t. We come about as far as anybody. We were surprised
to see her. Hardly anybody uses that pass, even coming from the
city. But she didn’t say where she was going.”

“Nobody ever goes farther south than we do,” Kev said. “It’s
dangerous.”

“In what way?”

Kev shrugged.

“Are you going after her?” Jean asked.

“Yes.”

“Good. But it’s time to make camp. Do you want to stop with us?”

Arevin glanced past them, southward. In truth, the mountain
shadows were passing over the glade, and twilight closed in toward
him.

“You can’t get much farther tonight, that’s true,” Kev said.

“And this is the best place to camp in half a day’s ride.”

Arevin sighed. “All right,” he said. “Thank you. I will camp here
tonight.”

Arevin welcomed the warmth of the fire that crackled in the
center of camp. The fragrant burning wood snapped sparks. The
mountain deer were a dim moving shadow in the center of the meadow,
completely silent, but the horses stamped their hooves now and then;
they grazed noisily, tearing the tender grass blades with their
teeth. Kev had already rolled himself up in his blankets; he snored
softly at the edge of the firelight. Jean sat across from Arevin,
hugging her knees to her chest, the firelight red on her face. She
yawned.

“I guess I’ll go to sleep,” she said. “You?”

“Yes. In a moment.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked.

Arevin glanced up. “You’ve already done a great deal,” he said.

She looked at him curiously. “That isn’t exactly what I meant.”

The tone of her voice was not quite annoyance; it was milder than
that, but enough changed that Arevin knew something was wrong.

“I don’t understand what you do mean.”

“How do your people say it? I find you attractive. I’m asking if
you’d like to share a bed with me tonight.”

Arevin looked at Jean impassively, but he was embarrassed. He
thought—he hoped—he was not blushing. Both Thad and Larril had asked
him the same question, and he had not understood it. He had refused
them offhandedly, and they must have thought him discourteous at
best. Arevin hoped they had realized that he did not understand
them, that his customs were different.

“I’m healthy, if you’re worried,” Jean said with some asperity.
“And my control is excellent.”

“I beg your pardon,” Arevin said. “I did not understand you at
all. I’m honored by your invitation and I did not doubt your health
or your control. Nor would you need to doubt me. But if I will not
offend you I must say no.”

“Never mind,” Jean said. “It was just a thought.”

Arevin could tell she was hurt. Having so abruptly and
unwittingly turned down Thad and Larril, Arevin felt he owed Jean,
at least, some explanation. He was not sure how to explain his
feelings, for he was not sure he understood them himself.

“I find you very attractive,” Arevin said. “I would not have you
misunderstand me. Sharing with you would not be fair. My attention
would be
…
elsewhere.”

Jean looked at him through the heat waves of the fire. “I can
wake Kev up if you like.”

Arevin shook his head. “Thank you. But I meant my attention would
be elsewhere than this camp.”

“Oh,” she said with sudden comprehension. “I see now. I don’t
blame you. I hope you find her soon.”

“I hope I have not offended you.”

“It’s okay,” Jean said, a little wistfully. “I don’t suppose it’d
make any difference if I told you I’m not looking for anything
permanent? Or even anything beyond tonight?”

“No,” Arevin said. “I’m sorry. It’s still the same.”

“Okay.” She picked up her blanket and moved to the edge of the
firelight. “Sleep well.”

Later, lying in his bedroll, the blankets not quite keeping off
the chill, Arevin reflected on how pleasant and warm it would be to
be lying next to another person. He had casually coupled with people
in his and neighboring clans all his life, but until he met Snake he
had found no one he thought he might be able to partner with. Since
meeting her he had felt no desire for anyone else; what was even
stranger, he had not noticed that he was not attracted to anyone
else. He lay on the hard ground, thinking about all that, and trying
to remind himself that he had no evidence but one brief touch, and a
few ambiguous words, that Snake felt any more than casually
attracted to him. Yet he could hope.

For a long time Snake did not move; in fact, she did not think
she could move. She kept expecting dawn to come, but night remained.
Perhaps North’s people had covered the crevasse to keep it in the
dark, but Snake knew that was ridiculous, if only because North
would want to be able to see her and laugh at her.

As she was considering darkness, light glimmered above her. She
looked up, but everything was blurs and shadows and strange noises
that grew louder. Ropes and wood scraped against the crevasse wall
and Snake wondered what other poor cripple had found North’s refuge,
and then, as a platform sank smoothly toward her, lowered on
pulleys, she saw North himself descending. She could not hold
Melissa tighter, or hide her from him, or even stand up and fight
for her. North’s lights illuminated the crevasse and Snake was
dazzled.

He stepped from his platform as the pulley ropes drooped down to
its corners. Two of his followers flanked him, carrying lanterns.
Two sets of shadows flowed and rippled on the walls.

When North came close enough, the light enveloped both of them
and Snake could see his face. He smiled at her.

“My dreamsnakes like you,” he said, nodding toward her feet where
the serpents coiled around her legs, halfway to her knees. “But you
mustn’t be so selfish about them.”

“Melissa doesn’t want them,” Snake said.

“I must say,” he said, “I hardly expected you to be so lucid.”

“I’m a healer.”

North frowned a little, hesitating. “Ah. I see. Yes, I should
have thought of that. You would have to be resistant, would you
not.” He nodded to his people and they put down their lanterns and
came toward Snake. The light illuminated North’s face from below,
shadowing his paper-white skin with strange black shapes. Snake
shrank away from his people, but the rock was at her back; she had
nowhere to go. The followers walked gently among the jagged stones
and the dreamsnakes. Unlike Snake they were heavily shod. One
reached out to take Melissa from her. Snake felt the serpents
uncoiling from her ankles, and heard them slide across the rock.

“Stay away!” Snake cried, but an emaciated hand tried to ease
Melissa from her arms. Snake lunged down and bit. It was the only
thing she could think of to do. She felt the cold flesh yield
between her teeth until she met bone; she tasted the warm blood. She
wished she had sharper teeth, sharp teeth with channels for poison.
As it was, all she could do was hope the wound became infected.