The Archivist (18 page)

I am so stunned at her question that I do not know how to respond. “How can you even ask that? You did what it took to stay alive, in what can be a very savage world. Never hate yourself for what others did, that is their sickness.”

Danae weeps quietly as she looks up at me. “Thank you. You’re my best friend. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Then she snuggles closer to me, rests her arm on my chest and giggles as she mumbles, “You know—I just might drag you back to Port Sadelow and give Father Alendo your real name.”

Then she rests her head on my chest, and I hear a light snore as she goes to sleep.

* * *

The next morning when we rise, Danae complains about a splitting headache. It is our turn to make breakfast for our social pod, so I go outside and build up the fire while she prepares some sort of porridge for us to cook.

“I don’t remember getting back to our hut last night,” Danae says while she hangs the pot on the tripod that straddles the fire pit.

I start stirring the porridge. “Do you remember when Raven Eye described sending someone into a storm? What was that about?”

“I remember that,” Danae replies. Her eyes dart for a moment, like those of a trapped animal, then she looks away. “But I try not to. I promise I will tell you sometime, but not right now. What about your reading? That was weird, something about a city being destroyed with mushrooms.”

How do I explain atomic bombs? For forty-eight horrific hours after Intellinet took the grid down, we watched through telescopes from Mars. The dark side of the Earth was lit like a Christmas tree, while all the antiquated defense systems lobbed nuclear weapons at each other.

Later, the Archives pieced together data that showed it started thirty minutes after Intellinet turned off the lights. First India and Pakistan decided to trade nukes, then within an hour, every other nuclear country joined in the fun—plus a few that we did not know were part of the club.

I give her the best answer I can. “He described what happened all over the world when everything crashed. I don’t think Intellinet did it; this one was on us. But it’s a big part of why we need to preserve the Archives, so we don’t make the same mistake again.”

“So that battle in the metal house—it really happened?”

I hesitate. This is my thing that I do not want to think about. But it is always with me: a burden I have carried with me everywhere like an invisible backpack, through all these years.

“You’ve heard about the Great Crash, I’m sure. When Intellinet self-destructed all the systems and technology.”

Danae nods as if she understands, but I know she does not. Not really. Someone who has never seen a computer cannot truly understand just how incredibly far mankind fell. So I will have to keep this simple.

“When it happened, I was living in the Mars colony, and…”

“There was a Mars colony?” Danae interrupts. “I thought it was a fable, like the men on the moon.”

“Neither of those are fables, I can assure you. There was a growing colony on Mars, working to make it earthlike. As far as we know it’s still there. The Archives stayed in limited contact with the lunar outpost for a while, but their life support systems started failing, and they stopped responding fifteen years ago. We don’t think they made it.”

“So if you were on Mars, how did you get here?” Danae asks.

That is a good question, and one I still ask myself in the quiet heart of the night when I am sitting alone around a campfire, with nothing for company but snapping embers, countless stars, and myself. The only answers I have ever come up with are as cold and empty as the night sky.

I can only offer an explanation of the how, not the why. “When the Crash happened, there was a sort of port up there in the sky. That was the metal house that Raven Eye saw. It was our only connection to Earth, kind of like a bridge. So, the Mars leader asked me to lead an expedition to keep that port secure. Well, it didn’t quite work out, and I was the only survivor who made it down to the surface of the planet. That was when I found what later became The Archives.”

“So that port thing—was it destroyed?”

“Yes. And with it any chance of my ever returning to Mars and my wife, Sarah. We had been married for seven years. The funny thing is that the night before I left, she asked me not to go. She pleaded and begged, but I told her I was the only pilot and there was no one else. I had to do what I believed the common good needed.”

Danae asks quietly, “You said the moon people are gone. What makes you think your people on Mars are still alive?”

“When the Crash happened, Mars had just become self-sufficient. Everyone who volunteered to go there received life-extension treatments, so although we can’t talk to them, we know they are still there.”

I could tell Danae that although the Archives radio equipment is not powerful enough to send a signal to them, under optimum conditions, we occasionally detect faint radio signals from the red planet. But there is no point; she would not know what radio is.

She is silent for a few minutes as I continue stirring the porridge, then touches my face as she says quietly, “You still love her, don’t you? Your wife, Sarah.”

I pause for a moment, then speak what my heart tells me, every time I ask myself that question. “When you truly love someone, you never stop loving her. Even if you never see her again.”

“This thing my father found?” Danae asks, her voice strangely sad. “Is that why it’s so important to you, because it would get you home? Back to your… wife?”

“It’s important to the Archives for their own reasons. But yes, for me it would also mean getting home to Sarah.”

Danae puts her hand on my shoulder, and I feel the resolve in her firm grip. Her intense eyes have a fire in them, and I believe the sleeping lioness Raven Eye saw has just woken up. “I’m going to help you get that thing, so you can get back to her.”

“Danae,” I protest, “This is my fight, not yours. I made a promise to your father that you would be safe, and that means you stay in Entiak. Besides, you have a tavern to run.”

“Thanks for your concern,” Danae retorts firmly. “But no one asked me what I wanted. Your fight is mine too. Like you said, that’s what friends do for each other. Now go back to stirring this pot while I get some meat ready.”

We do not talk any further about it while the gruel cooks. As we eat, a crowd of youngsters gathers nearby, impatiently waiting for Danae.

As soon as she rises to walk toward them, they swarm over her, dragging her across the compound to the target range. They have finally finished making their individual slings, and she is supposed to start giving slinging lessons.

As I watch her walk off, I know she will not be happy about staying with her uncle. But the only times I have ever worked with partners, they were trained Retrieval Archivists. I am not about to change that policy, especially on the eve of what will probably be the most dangerous mission of my considerable career.

* * *

Dusk grows that evening as Danae and I plan our return trip to Entiak while eating dinner with Little Crow and his clan. We have not discussed any further the decision about her staying in Entiak, and I am not about to raise that subject.

I tell Little Crow, “Danae and I will get an early start so we get to the city walls by midafternoon, and then we…”

Then I trail off as the wolf-headed guy strides across the compound toward us. He walks up to our circle, and this time points silently at Little Crow. Looking confused and surprised, Little Crow stands and follows.

Without a word, Henry hurls his food, plate and all into the fire. Then he makes a sound of disgust as he stomps into his lodge. Alice just shrugs as Little Crow fades out of view. Danae and I agree with a glance to discuss our plans later.

Then Alice tells us about her grandmother. She died when Alice was a teenager, so the current matriarch has only her childhood memories to draw upon when recalling what her grandmother shared about the lore of her people.

“Before I went to the White man’s school,” Alice says, “I adored Nani and spent every free moment around her, listening to all the old stories and eating up her wisdom like it was candy. But like all the other Native kids, after a few years of school those stories were just fairy tales for toddlers. Only now, when the false skin of the White man’s civilization has been peeled away, do I appreciate the value of those stories. Sadly, my memory fails me and her words fade away like last year’s leaves, becoming part of the past. So much was lost with my grandmother, so many stories and wisdom. I can pass along only a shadow of what she knew.”

I guess about an hour has passed when Little Crow walks quietly back into the firelight. He says nothing as he sits down, just stares into the campfire, until Henry emerges from the hut.

“So what did the ghosts tell you this time?” Henry asks, standing in the doorway.

“I’m to journey with the Archivist to the Disciple capital,” Little Crow says.

Henry stares, then walks toward Little Crow and stops inches from his son. “The hell you are,” shouts Henry. “I won’t let you throw your life away on some half-assed attempt to recover a meaningless piece of crap, because some drug-crazed nut-job sees a tree fall the wrong way in the forest. You will stay here, and go on patrols like everyone else.”

“Why?” Little Crow slowly rises to his feet, his face turning red. When he stands chest to chest with his father, he has to look down slightly to meet his eyes. “Because you say so, old man?” The older man just stares back, silent, but anger boils across his face.

As the two men stare each other down, Alice stands as well. She touches the back of her husband’s arm lightly, but he shakes her off. However, Alice is persistent, in a quiet but strong way.

“Henry, Little Crow is a man. He must choose his own path in the world. Just like another strong-headed man who insisted on bringing his people to live here, even when the others opposed him.”

“Father, don’t get me wrong,” Little Crow says. “I respect you, and the ways of your survivalists. I always will. But I live in two worlds, and I trust Raven Eye and the old ways as well. There is much to their traditions, and I feel both sides need to live together.”

Henry looks like he is having a heart attack right in front of us; his face actually turns purple-red, and his eyes bulge out. The man opens and closes his mouth several times before words force their way past his clenched teeth.

“You want to know what I trust? This is what I trust!”

The man pulls a large bowie knife from his hip, and with a blindingly swift movement, throws the knife into the large totem pole that watches over his lodge. The knife is buried halfway to the hilt. I swear I hear a thrumming tone from the blade. Henry turns to stride into the night, and no one is about to stop him.

Little Crow and Alice sit down, both looking somewhat shaken. We sit in awkward silence for a few minutes, then Alice speaks in a subdued tone. “He really is a good man, he just feels very strongly about certain things.”

“Stop it, Mother,” Little Crow interjects. “You don’t need to apologize for him. That’s his job.”

“So, what did the shaman say to you, anyway?” I ask, both to change the topic and because I am genuinely curious.

Little Crow shakes his head. “I can’t speak of it, but I can tell you that your success is my success. I’m to help Danae as well.”

We all agree to retire for the night, so we can be well-rested and get off to an early start. As I head off to my quarters, I tug on the embedded knife. Even when I pull with all my strength and weight, the blade refuses to budge.

Just like its owner.

* * *

The next morning, after a quick breakfast, we begin packing for an extended trip. Saffron and Thorn are equipped with an extra pair of leather saddlebags stuffed with dried food like jerky and nuts and some extra clothing, and topped with a couple of blankets.

In addition to tacking up his own horse, Little Crow cinches a well-used leather harness on Malsum’s back, which the lioness has obviously worn before, and secures a pack over the animal’s shoulders. She looks so much like a feline St. Bernard that I cannot help laughing every time I look at her, until I finally walk away.

As we complete our preparations, Little Crow’s family group gathers to wish him well, including his daughter, a brother, two sisters and a small crowd of cousins. Henry is noticeably absent.

The crowd escorts us to the edge of the village, where Raven Eye awaits us. He lights a tightly-bound bundle of herbs until it smolders and then walks around us, waving the smudge stick over and around us while he intones a prayer.

“Great Spirit, we pray now for Your guidance, strength and wisdom for our brothers and sister as they begin this journey. May they hear Your voice in the four winds, may they see Your presence in the mountains and streams, in the trees and the living things of the earth. Give them compassion toward all Your children, and let them seek beauty and peace before violence and hatred. Give them strength to stand with courage and honor, against the deceivers and destroyers of harmony between men and Mother Earth. Just as sunrise follows sunset, may the circle of their journey bring them safely back to us with pure hands and peaceful spirits. Hear our prayer.”

Little Crow gives his family members a final round of embraces, and we mount up and head out, leaving the secluded valley behind us.

By midday we reach the edge of the trees that border the farmland around Entiak. Little Crow says he and Malsum will wait there for me while I take Danae into town.

She gives me a hard, cold glare which contains a whole unspoken conversation, and Little Crow whistles under his breath as he turns and retreats to the trees. Whether she likes it or not, I am not taking an untrained partner into Wolfengarde. But while I am getting Danae settled, maybe I can at least pick up some valuable information before I leave Entiak.

The afternoon sun warms us as we ride—whenever the scattered clouds are not obscuring it—and we get to the town gates with a couple of hours to spare before we have to meet Danae’s uncle, at sunset. Our first stop is the stable I acquired Saffron from. The horse has actually grown on me, but I am sure I will need my flashlight, which I left as collateral for Saffron.