Word & Void 02 - A Knight of the Word (20 page)

“All right,” she said, content to leave it at that.

They left together, walking out into the brilliant afternoon sunshine and coolish fall air, and he left her standing on the sidewalk in front of the harbor tours ticket booth, then limped across the street for the trolley. He looked older to her then, as if he had aged all at once, his movements more studied, his stoop more pronounced. She wished she could do more to help him with this, but she had done everything she could think to do.

Even so, she could not shake the feeling that it wasn’t enough.

N
est was debating what to do with the rest of her day when Ariel unexpectedly reappeared. The tatterdemalion was gossamer thin and spectral in the sunlight, and she floated close against Nest, as if human contact had become suddenly necessary. Nest glanced around quickly to see if passersby were looking, but no one was. It was clear they couldn’t see Ariel. Only Nest could.

“Where have you—” she began, but the tatterdemalion cut her short with a sudden rush of movement.

“Did you say everything to John Ross that you came to say?” the forest creature hissed in her soft, childlike voice.

Nest stared in surprise. “Yes, I guess so, pretty much.”

Ariel was hunched close against her, and Nest could feel her small, transparent body vibrating as if it were a cord pulled taut in a high wind.

“Then stay away from him.” The tatterdemalion’s dark eyes were wide and staring as she watched John Ross depart. “Stay far away.”

Nest followed Ariel’s gaze across the roadway to where Ross was boarding the trolley. “What do you mean,
stay away?”

The tatterdemalion darted behind her as the trolley moved down the tracks, and Nest realized that she was trying to conceal herself. Nest didn’t think Ariel was even conscious of the movement, that she was reacting to something instinctual. The vibrating had increased, turned to a violent trembling, and Ariel was pressed so closely against her that parts of them were beginning to blend together. Nest shuddered at the feeling of invasion, inundated by a wave of dark emotions and terrifying memories. She realized that she was reliving with Ariel snippets of the lives of the children the magic had assimilated to create the tatterdemalion, caught in their overpowering flow. She tried to close her mind against them, to seal herself away, but Ariel’s closeness made it impossible. Nest recoiled with the impact of their assault and stepped back in revulsion. She tried to move away from Ariel, to free herself of the other’s presence, and she nearly collided with an elderly couple passing behind her.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” she said hastily, then turned away and walked to the railing overlooking the slips where the tour boats docked. She took several deep gulps of air, staring down at the choppy waters, waiting for her mind to clear, for the dizziness to pass.

Ariel reappeared at her side, but did not try to touch her. “I didn’t mean to do that,” she said.

Nest nodded. “I know. But it was so, so …”

“Sometimes, I forget myself. Sometimes, all the children inside me come together in a knot and claim me. They want to be alive again. They want to be who they were. Their memories are so strong that they overwhelm me. I can feel everything they feel. I can remember everything they knew. They fight to get out of me, to become free. They need to touch another human being. They want to be inside a human body, to feel it warm and alive around them, to be real children again.”

Her small voice faded away in a whisper, and her dark eyes seemed to lose their focus. “It scares me when that happens. I think that if they succeed, there will be nothing left of me.”

Nest swallowed the dryness in her throat. “It’s all right, I wasn’t hurt. And you’re still here.” She forced herself to look into the tatterdemalion’s opaque eyes. “Tell me, Ariel. What is it that bothers you about John Ross? Why did you tell me to stay away from him?”

“He is lost,” the tatterdemalion replied softly.

“Lost?” Nest shook her head. “Lost how? I don’t understand.”

“You can’t save him. Nothing you can do can save him. It is too late.”

Nest stared in confusion. “Why would you say that? Why is it too late?”

The strange childlike face looked at her wonderingly. “Because he has demon stink all over him. He is already claimed.”

They stood facing each other in the shadow of the overhang that protected the pier walkway, eyes locked. Nest started to speak again and then stopped. There were people moving all around them, passing on their way to someplace else, talking, laughing, unaware. She did not want to draw attention to herself; she did not want them to hear.

The sun broke through the high clouds and blinded her. She turned away. Demon stink? On John Ross? She shook her head slowly. This wasn’t making sense.

“We have to go,” Ariel said suddenly, and she started to move away.

“Wait!” Nest called out to her, saying the word so loudly that heads turned. She tried to look nonchalant as she detached herself from the pier railing and walked over to where Ariel hovered, glancing out at the boats as she did so. “Go where?” she whispered fiercely.

Ariel pointed north, down the trolley line, away from the direction they had come. “Someone is waiting to see you.”

“Who?”

“Someone you know. Hurry, we have to go.”

Ariel moved out to the sidewalk and Nest followed reluctantly. They turned north along the waterfront, passing Elliott’s on Pier 56 and the shops on Pier 57. The wind whipped off the bay, cold and sharp, and in spite of the sunshine, Nest hunched down into her windbreaker, wishing she had brought something warmer.

Her mind raced as her eyes followed the movement of her feet. She spoke without looking up. “Ariel, were you in the building with me at Fresh Start, when I talked to John’s friends?”

The tatterdemalion nodded. “I was.”

“Was the demon stink there, too?”

“Yes, everywhere.”

“Was it as strong?”

“Yes, as strong.”

Nest tried to decide what this meant. Something had made her violently ill inside the rooms of Fresh Start. Could it be demon stink? If there was demon stink all over John Ross, wouldn’t she have felt sick around him, too? Besides, she hadn’t been able to detect demon stink five years ago, when her demon father had come back into her life, so why should she be able to detect it now?

Had something changed since then’?

Maybe something about her?

She walked up Alaskan Way, keeping pace with Ariel, her head lowered against the bite of the October wind. The tatterdemalion seemed unaffected by the cold and wind, her ephemeral form a steady presence, her light silken coverings hanging limp and unruffled. Ariel did not look at her, but kept her gaze directed ahead, toward wherever it was they were going.

They crossed Alaskan Way at Pier 59, which housed the Seattle Aquarium, passed under the viaduct, and moved toward the broad, concrete steps of a hillclimb that led up to the city. There was another possibility, she realized, still thinking about what Ariel had said. Maybe what had happened at Fresh Start had nothing to do with demon stink. Maybe it had to do with the demon itself. If there was demon stink all over Fresh Start and John Ross, then it stood to reason the demon made its home close to both. So maybe the reason she became sick at Fresh Start was that the demon had been right there beside her.

One of Ross’s friends and coworkers.

One of the people he trusted.

It made sense. The Lady said that the Void would send someone to subvert Ross, that maybe it had already happened. Ariel seemed to think it had. Ross did not. But maybe Ross couldn’t see what was happening and that was the whole problem. Maybe her job in coming to find him was to make him take a closer look at himself.

Had she done that by speaking to him as she had? Had she given him enough cause to reexamine his situation? She couldn’t be sure. But she knew now that she had to find out.

She climbed the steps past a small Mexican restaurant and a series of shops to Western Avenue, then turned up toward Pike Place Market. She knew where she was from the time she had spent studying the map of Seattle. Pike Place Market was a Seattle landmark, a long, low building that consisted of stalls and kiosks and display tables that were leased by vendors of fresh fish, fruits and vegetables, flowers, and crafts. Western ran below the market through warehouses and buildings that had been converted into microbreweries, restaurants, retail shops, and parking garages. The street sloped steadily upward from where she left the hillclimb, passing beneath several overpasses that connected the waterfront to the market and the surrounding shops. The crowds had dissipated to a scattering of people working their way between the parking lots and shopping areas. She wondered anew where it was that Ariel was taking her.

They passed a ramp leading down into an open-sided parking garage that abutted the expressway, and the sound of passing cars was a dull whine of tires on concrete. Then a park came into view. It was a small park, barely more than an open space with a grassy knoll at its center, clusters of small trees, and a sidewalk winding out from the street to a railing that overlooked Elliott Bay. Wooden benches lined the sidewalk and quarter-slot telescopes pointed out toward the Olympics. A juncture of streets leading down to the Market from the city fronted the little park, and traffic crawled past sluggishly in the afternoon sun.

A blue and red sign at the edge of the lawn proclaimed that this was Victor Steinbrueck Park.

“Here,” said Ariel.

Nest walked up into the park for a closer look, drawn by the vista of the bay and the distant mountains, by the bright, sunny mix of blue water, green trees, and white-capped mountain peaks. She glanced around at the people in the park. They were an eclectic group. There were schoolchildren clustered at the railing with their supervising teachers and parents. There were shoppers on their way to and from the market. Businessmen and women were reading newspapers and magazines in the warmth of the sun as they munched sandwiches and sipped coffee.

But mostly there were Native Americans. They occupied the majority of the benches, particularly those fronting Western. They sat together in small groups on the grassy knoll. One or two lay sleeping in the sunshine, wrapped in old blankets or coats. They were a ragged, sullen group, their copper faces weathered, their black hair lank, and their clothes shabby. The ones sitting on the benches fronting the sidewalk on Western had placed paper cups and boxes in front of them to solicit handouts from passersby. They kept their faces lowered and their eyes on each other, seldom bothering even to look up at the people they begged from. Some drank from bottles wrapped in brown paper sacks. Most were men, but there were a few women, as well.

Nest turned to find Ariel, to ask who it was that they had come to meet, but the tatterdemalion was gone.

“Hello, little bird’s Nest,” someone growled from behind.

She knew the voice instantly, and even so she couldn’t quite believe it. She turned around, and there stood Two Bears. The Sinnissippi was as ageless and unchanging as John Ross, his copper-colored features blunt and smooth, his long hair ink black and woven into a single braid, and his eyes so dark they seemed depthless. He wore the familiar army fatigue pants and boots, but here, where it was cooler, he also wore a heavy jacket over a checked flannel shirt. The silver buckle of his belt was tarnished and the leather scarred. He was as big and imposing as she remembered, with huge shoulders and thick, gnarled fingers. He was a solid and immutable presence.

“O’olish Amaneh.” She spoke his Indian name carefully, as if it were made of glass.

“You remember,” he said approvingly. “Good.” “Are you the one I’m supposed to meet?”

He cocked his head. “I don’t know. Have you come here to meet someone, little bird’s Nest?”

She nodded. “My friend Ariel brought me. She said …”

“Your friend? Have you come with a friend? Where is she?”

Nest looked around. “Gone, I guess. Hiding.”

“Ah, just like your friend in the park five years ago. Mr. Pick.” Two Bears seemed amused. His broad face creased with his smile. “All your friends want to hide from me, it seems.”

She colored slightly. “Maybe you frighten them.”

“Do you think so?” He shrugged, as if disclaiming responsibility. “You’ve changed, little bird’s Nest. Maybe I can’t call you that anymore. Maybe you’re too old, too grown up.”

“You haven’t changed,” she replied. “You look just the same. What are you doing here?”

He looked around speculatively. “Maybe I’ve come to be with my brothers and sisters. The Sinnissippi are gone, but there are still plenty of other tribes. Some of them have prospered. They run casinos and sell fireworks. They have councils to govern their people and rules to enforce their proclamations. The government in Washington recognizes their authority. They call them Native Americans and pass laws that give them special privileges. They don’t call them Indians or Redskins anymore. At least, not to their faces.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “There is even a segment of the population who believes that my people were wronged once, long ago, when white Europeans took away their land and their way of life. Can you imagine that?”

Nest shook her head noncommittally. “Are you sure Ariel didn’t bring me here to see you?”

His face remained expressionless. “Why don’t we sit down and talk, little bird’s Nest?”

He led her to a bench facing out toward the water. A group of weathered men was sitting there, passing around a bottle and speaking in low voices. Two Bears said something to them in another language, and they rose at once and moved away. Two Bears took their place on the bench, and Nest sat down next to him.

“What did you say to them?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I told them they have no pride in themselves and should be ashamed.” The copper skin of his blunt features tightened around his bones. “We are such a sad and hopeless people. Such a lost people. There are some of us, it is true, who have money and property. There are some who have found a way of life that provides. But most of us have nothing but empty hearts and alcohol and bad memories. Our pride in ourselves was stripped away a long time ago, and we were left hollow. It is a sad thing to see. Sadder to live.”