Olivia (51 page)

And she had to tell him.  That was all there was to it.  She would go back to Vorgullum and she would tell him about Cheyenne and even about Olivia’s own part in her escape, and she would just hope that he and his hunters could find her before any lasting damage was done.  If she had destroyed all trust between them, then so be it.  At least the others would be safe.

Kodjunn helped her out of the pool.  They dressed in silence—he in his loincloth, she in the heavy robe he’d brought her—and then he picked her up again.  He carried her up the Deep Drop, and soon they stood before the iron door that sealed off the women’s tunnels from the remainder of the mountain. 

“Horumn!” Kodjunn called.  “Answer!  I must see Murgull!”

The sound of Horumn dragging her heavy, malformed foot came quickly, but before she could unlock the door, she was shoved to one side so that Murgull could get there first.  She saw Kodjunn and the load he carried and her clawed hands flew out to seize the bars.

“What has happened here?” she snarled.

The danger sailed straight over Kodjunn’s head.  “She fell and tore her feet,” he said.  “I made her soak them, but a rat bit her.”

“Bring her in.”  Murgull stood aside so that Horumn could unlock the door, and Kodjunn squeezed by, bearing Olivia in his arms.  “Set her down,” she commanded.  “And leave.”

Kodjunn, setting Olivia gently down on a bench, looked around, stung.  But having lived with old Murgull all his life, he must have realized that there was no point in arguing. 

Murgull followed him to the doorway and said something in a low voice to Horumn.  Horumn started to object, but Murgull snapped something back at her, and Horumn limped away after locking the door, clapping her hands and bellowing to clear the women’s commons of the curious onlookers who were beginning to peer in from the other tunnels.

Murgull left the door and came back to Olivia.  She picked up first one foot, and then the other, and then set them both down and straightened up again. “Now he dies,” she said and gave Olivia’s shoulder a distracted and comforting pat.  “I have everything I need, little sister.  He will be dead by dawn.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Olivia began, and suddenly, she was crying.  Strange.  She could handle everything Cheyenne had done and she could lie there under Kodjunn, but she couldn’t take even one minute of Murgull’s sympathy.  “I was wrong.  She lied to me.  He hasn’t hurt anyone.  I can’t believe it was even him I saw with Bolga anymore!”

“Then…”  Murgull studied her, puzzled, then sat beside her on the bench and pulled her against her flat and withered breast.  “Tell Murgull, little baby.  Tell her all the troubles.”

Olivia did.  Beginning with her first meeting with Cheyenne, the lies and the deceptions, how she agreed to help her escape, the confrontation, the use of the potion, and the rat.  Kodjunn’s part in the story came spilling out at the very end of it, and only because it was pointless to tell of the potion and not expect the old witch who’d brewed it to know what it had done.

“That corpse-eating beast!” Murgull exploded.  “She poured that entire bottle on you and left you for him with crippled feet?”

“I have to tell Vorgullum,” Olivia said, drying her eyes.

Murgull recoiled, her slapping arm flying up, but perhaps she decided Olivia had suffered enough because she let it go unthrown.  “You will tell him nothing, fool!  Hear me!  Nothing!”

“I have to, Murgull!  We have to get her back before she gets help!  She’ll never keep her promise to me!  She’ll come back and kill us all!”

“Ha!” Murgull barked.  “She was carried to this place even we knew that you were missing.”

“What?” Olivia cried, dismayed.

“Broke her leg trying to climb the entry shaft.  Good, clean break.  Better than that maggot deserves.”  Murgull, still fuming, bent to have another look at Olivia’s feet.  “You must keep off your feet while they heal, and you may limp for some time, but it should…”

Murgull stopped, then straightened and stared at Olivia.

“But I have to tell Vorgullum,” Olivia murmured, unaware of Murgull’s piercing attention.  “I have to.  What if Kodjunn made me pregnant?”

“He has not,” Murgull said quietly.  “You are already sparked.”

“But I…What did you say?”

“There is a life in you.”  Murgull reached out a shaking hand to grip Olivia’s arm.  Her mouth worked briefly and then she simply fell silent.

“Are you sure?” Olivia asked, hardly recognizing the tiny voice that came out of her.

Murgull nodded speechlessly.

They stared at each other.

“Vorgullum,” said Olivia, and yes, that sounded right, that had to be next.  Vorgullum needed to be told and then he would know what to do.

Murgull applied an ointment to Olivia’s wounds which numbed them over pleasantly, then wrapped them in bandages that had been soaked in some medicinal-smelling liquid.  She offered a shoulder to lean on, and with her help, Olivia made her way slowly through the mountain to the commons.

The hunters were back, and most of the tribe was here.  Olivia did not see Kodjunn, and assumed he must be back in his own chambers, discovering what Cheyenne had been up to in his absence.

Vorgullum was standing on the center rock, surrounded by hunters armed with lanterns and flashlights instead of spears, shouting out orders that included her name when he saw her hobble in.  He froze, his mouth open, then leapt off the rock and charged across the cave.  Gullan and humans alike saw her and made room for him.

Murgull released her with a little pat, and Olivia limped towards him, arms open.  He swept her up, ready to be furious, ready for revenge, and she cried, “Oh, Vorgullum!  I’m pregnant!”

And in the absolute stillness that dropped over the commons, Tina’s very mild, “No way,” carried with pin-drop clarity.

20

The next morning began with a visitor, Lorchumn, bearing a gift—a comb made of wood and bone, not as nice as the one he’d made for Judith, but much nicer than the dried teasel-head she and Vorgullum used.  She accepted it politely even as she wrapped herself in a sleeping bag to conceal her naked body.

Vorgullum saw her discomfort, read it perfectly, and reached out to grip Lorchumn’s hand.  He accepted the inevitable praise and well-wishing with good humor, then gently said, “My mate would be more comfortable in clothes.”

Lorchumn ducked his head.  “Of course.  Naturally.  I apologize, Olivia.”

“It’s good to see you, Lorchumn.  Thank you very much for your gift.”

Vorgullum steered him out of the room, and Olivia slipped into her robe and went in to the washroom.

When she emerged, refreshed and feeling more awake, she was startled to see Amy and Kurlun waiting for her in the sleeping room.

“Is this going to go on all day?” Olivia asked, amused, as she was presented with a stone carving depicting Bahgree rising from the water.

“It’ll probably go on all nine months,” Amy replied seriously.  “You would not believe the party that went on last night.  My aching head!”

“And mine,” Kurlun concurred.  “I had so much thumperjuice, I don’t even know whose pit I woke up in.”

“Truth,” Amy said solemnly.  “He wandered home with Sarah B. and Burgelbun, and they didn’t have the heart to send him back.  Actually, as drunk as Burgelbun was, I doubt if they knew where to send him, or even that he didn’t belong there at all.”

“And you were so sober,” Kurlun teased, poking her in the arm.

“I was drunk like a goldfish at a frat house,” Amy acknowledged, nodding, “but at least I had the good sense to admit it and go home.  To
my
home, no less.”

“I made that, oh, long and long ago, before my eyes went bad,” Kurlun remarked, smiling at the statue in Olivia’s hands.  He saw her startled expression and shrugged.  “They’re not that bad, really.  I can still see a stag against the forest below, and I can always see the welcome face of my loved mate, but my days of detailed carving are as far behind me as my days of nightly hunts.”

“If it means so much to you,” Olivia began, but he cut her off.

“I would rather be able to present you with your own image, but as I can’t, please accept this.”

Olivia took it humbly then and put it in her alcove.  As soon as Kurlun left, however, she went back and turned it to face the wall.  It was beautiful, and she did appreciate the sentiment, but Kurlun had been a very good sculptor before his eyes went bad and the leering menace on the stone Bahgree’s face was far too well-done to sleep next to.  Later, she would find a place for it in one of the other drab, empty rooms.  She supposed that if everyone brought her gifts, she’d eventually end up with more things than even Vorgullum’s lair could hold. 

Her entire morning passed in this fashion.  There was always at least one other person visiting with her, and often there were two or three.  Each of them brought her something—an extra blanket, a handmade shirt or robe, a bundle of food, real Ivory soap (which made Olivia exclaim with delight, and caused the bearer of the gift, Thugg, to display his wings in such a show of masculine pleasure that Vorgullum growled), and a vast array of knick-knacks of no particular purpose, but which did go a long way towards making Vorgullum’s spartan lair look a lot like a real home.

Eventually, Murgull came, chasing her visitors away with indiscriminate slaps and snarls, and then turning on Vorgullum with the same attitude.  “You think you can hole up here like a rabbit in winter, eh?  Tribe starving, ha!  Your own mate will be starving soon enough and here you stand!  Your mate lies here with her feet torn; what is your excuse?  Ha!  Out, stag-head!  Out and to your work!  This is swollen still,” she said, squatting down to peer at Olivia’s foot as Vorgullum made an inglorious retreat.  “Rat bites are vile poisons.  Here, take this and paint your wounds.”

Olivia accepted the small pot she was given and scooped out some of the white goop inside.  It looked and felt a lot like cream cheese.  “Do I want to know what this is?” she inquired.

“It is mountain’s milk, eh?  It grows in the depths, out of the rock itself, a gift of the Great Mother.  Good cure for all bad cuts and open wounds.”  She bundled up the soiled bandages and tossed them on the fire.  “Let that touch the air now.  Air is a good healer, like Murgull.” 

“Olivia?”  It was Kodjunn, calling from the entry chute.

Olivia bit her lip, glanced towards the doorway, then looked back to see Murgull’s suddenly serious expression.  “I need to talk to him,” she said, and the old gulla nodded.  “Can you keep us alone?”

Murgull nodded again and hobbled out. 

A moment later, Kodjunn was there, looking down at her from the doorway.  He seemed uncomfortable, but smiled when he saw her there.  “I heard,” he said simply, and came to her side.  “I am…happy for you.”

“And I heard,” she answered.  “I don’t know what to say.”

He shrugged.  “Her leg is broken.  Hateful as it may sound, it’s the best thing that could have happened.  If  she’d gone any further, she’d have killed herself.  And at least this way, I’ll know where she is for a little while.”

“Did she say anything?”

“No, only turned her face to the wall and cursed me.  Murgull gave her something for the pain when she set the bone, but I don’t think she means to come back.  Cheyenne is being grim about it, but there’s a lot of pain inside her, and how am I supposed to feel about that?” he asked, opening his empty arms.  “Shall I pretend to be sorry?  She’s spent all this time hating me and now I feel nothing for her.  Nothing at all.”

Olivia, who still felt as though she could cheerfully wrap her hands around her climbing spikes and do Cheyenne in like the world’s biggest rat, forced herself to appear sympathetic.  “That is unfortunate,” she managed.  “For both of you.”

“I would return her,” he burst out.  “I would fly her as far as I could fly in a single night and drop her, but that will never be enough.  Humans have machines that take them places even faster than a gulla can fly.  She could be home before sundown the next day, and we would be invaded before dawn.”

“Assuming she survives the drop.”

He glanced at her, a smile edging around his mouth.  “No, Olivia. That’s not in me.  Even when we go on big hunts, the others do the killing, and I gather the herd.”

“Oh.”  Now it was she who could not meet his eyes.  All the things she had believed about him…  “What will you do?”

“I put a guard back on her,” he said, shrugging with his wings.  “Day and night, this time.  That will hold her until the chain can be made.”

Olivia felt her jaw drop.  “You mean to
chain
her?”

“It wasn’t my decision, but I didn’t argue with it,” he admitted.  “She has done too much to damage me.  Doru told me she’s been telling people that I am a pervert.  That I beat her.  That I do…deviant things.”  He took several deep breaths and calmed himself down.  “I would never,” he began hotly, and then looked up at her, stricken.  “What happened yesterday…I don’t know why I did that,” he finished in a small voice.

“It wasn’t your f—”

“It
was
my fault!” he insisted, and passed a hand over his face.  “I saw a woman in terrible pain and I rutted with her!  How can you stand to look at me when I dragged you off into the depths and…and
fucked
you like that?”

The word tore at him, ripped his voice into raw hurts.  Olivia tried to touch him and he yanked his arm out of her grip.

“I have to tell him,” he said bleakly.  “I have rutted with the leader’s mate.  I don’t deserve to be tribe.”

Oh lord, he was really going to do it.

A thought bloomed slowly in the far corners of Olivia’s mind.  She reached out again and this time, refused to be shaken off.  “I had a dream last night,” she said.

He quieted at once, still troubled, but listening.

“A lean and wondrous woman, shining like a star, with wings of wind stood before me.”  She gauged his reaction and saw only unhesitant acceptance.  “She told me that the Great Spirit had seen your suffering and entered your body when you saw me.  It was his will that we should couple and that was why you could not resist.”