Shadow Walker sat in silence at the edge of the dimly lit “Royal Chamber.” It was his turn to “stand watch” and though he had trained his mind to concentrate, his mind nonetheless wandered from time to time. He thought of many things, but mainly of Many Paths. Despite the myriad talents of Eagle Eyes, he wished Many Paths were there instead. The mind of Many Paths was well suited to thinking through the current dilemma. Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes had agreed to provisionally treat his three chosen ministers as confidants. He had hated to do it, but he fed each one of them different “confidential” information which he asked that they not share with anyone else. In this way, he could eventually suss out whom he could really trust.
In the “Royal Bed”, as it was known, they had folded extra blankets to make it appear that two people were sleeping cuddled together. Meanwhile, he and Eagle Eyes had agreed to take turns watching to see whether any assassin would appear. This much, at least, seemed like a good plan for now, but they needed their sleep. It wasn’t sustainable to stay alert on short sleep indefinitely. And besides, it wasn’t only in their sleep they could be assassinated. Even if they managed to avoid death at night, could they be on their guard sufficiently to protect themselves the entire rest of the day? Day after Day?
At least being potentially beset on all sides helped Shadow Walker stay awake for his shift. He could see the form of Eagle Eyes lying asleep on the floor near the opposite wall. He cared for her. She had already saved his life at least twice since arriving at the City of the Z-Lotz. For now at least, the Z-Lotz as well as the remnants of the ROI treated him as king and bowed down deeply to him. This was a move which invariably sickened Shadow Walker inwardly, but he tried to portray the face of someone who would find such actions pleasant. For this image, he chose his memory of Trunk of Tree whom he imagined would like it if people bowed down to him.
Trunk of Tree. There was another dilemma. Trying to convince Many Paths that I was dead? Trying to take her for his own mate though — what about Eagle Eyes? Trunk of Tree was good in a battle. That much was so. Perhaps, he … he takes actions that might lead to war because that is what he’s good at? This will not help me here though…although, it does relate to trust. Trust.
Trust is hard! That much seems certain. Trunk of Tree and I have been friends our whole lives and yet…
Suddenly, Shadow Walker stopped breathing to listen better. He had thought he heard a commotion outside. This “City” as the Z-Lotz called it, was always noisy, even at night. But the noise was not a harmonious, peaceful song as given by the birds, bugs and bullfrogs of night. For a moment, it was too quiet and then … a disconcerting noise. So, maybe it was nothing. He heard nothing more and gradually relaxed his muscles. His mind turned back to trust.
(Weaving in different directions makes it stronger.)
He did actually trust Tree Vines, and to some extent, Tree Vine’s wife, Gathers Acorns, as well. And, that degree of trust may have slowed his hand just enough as he leapt to his feet and nearly beheaded her. In an instant, Eagle Eyes was awake and on her feet as well, bow in hand and drawn.
Shadow Walker was so taken aback by his nearly killing one of the few people they could trust, he stood speechless. Eagle Eyes hissed, “What are you doing here? You sneak into someone’s chamber in the middle of the night? You could have been killed! How would that be? How would we explain that to Cat Eyes? How … “
Gathers Acorns held up her hand and shook her head slowly. “Stop! Listen! You must hear my tale and then you can decide whether I acted stupidly.”
Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes looked at each other a moment and sighed. Shadow Walker calmed his breathing but his mind was still not totally convinced she wasn’t there to assassinate him. He tightened his jaw and nodded for her to speak.
“No time for long explanations, but many, many Z-lotz are coming to kill you tonight just before dawn. You must leave now. Immediately. Tree Vines and I will accompany you if we may. We have provisions. Take whatever is close to hand. Your weapons. We must go quickly!”
Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes again looked to each other for guidance. Then, they realized they were both doing it and it struck both of them as funny. In different circumstances, they might have laughed. As it was, however, Eagle Eyes spoke, “We don’t have time to destroy — or take — all the killing sticks! Should we take a few?”
In Shadow Walker’s mind a picture flashed: As a young brave, he had been looking over the edge of a deep well. His dad held him tight across his waist. Far below, he thought he could see a reflection of himself, but it was dim. He wasn’t sure. So, he waved to the reflection to see whether it would wave back. In his excitement, he had forgotten that his waving hand held his favorite rock — a gray crystal of galena — lead ore. The rock slid from his hand. He realized in an instant it was gone forever. Inaccessible.
Shadow Walker looked at Eagle Eyes and said, “We don’t need to destroy them. Let’s make them all inaccessible.”
“How?” Eagle Eyes shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.
For all we know, no-one but us actually knows how to move the partition or even that the weapons are there. It would be just like NUT-PI not to tell anyone about it. He would have that special lever made and then likely killed the carpenter who did it. Or, perhaps, the threat of death would be enough. In any case, we can likely destroy the link between the knob and the partition. We can’t count on no-one knowing. Or, breaking through the wall if necessary.”
Gathers Acorns drew near and put one hand on each of their shoulders. “We can also make them inaccessible another way. It won’t take long. I’ll see to it while you pack up. Don’t make a disturbance and keep whatever you take to a minimum.”
Shadow Walker strode to the knob on the back of the bed. He thought it possible that yanking hard might break the connection. He didn’t feel it had actually broken, but a narrow wooden rod now stuck out a few inches. Shadow Walker drew his sword and hacked straight through the rod. He could hear a clattering down below the floor.
Eagle Eyes looked at Shadow Walker. “You realize, we can’t get them either.”
“I know. I know that I made a decision for the whole tribe.”
Gathers Acorns reappeared with Tree Vines. She said breathlessly, “It is done! Let us go!”
For a brief moment, it occurred to Shadow Walker that it could all be a trap.
“Trust”, he whispered to himself, “a difficult puzzle. For another time and place.”
Out into the night, lit only by a few oil lamps, they sped to the edge of the city, whereupon they vanished into an even darker night lit only by stars. Traveling fast at night held its own dangers, but they wanted to put as much distance as possible between their party and, what they imagined would be, much larger search parties.
“Tu-Swift, we are learning so much from the library we uncovered. Just as you came, I was putting the final touches on a translation of a story about Stoned Soup, Would you like to hear it?”
“Yes! What’s it about, Cat Eyes?”
Cat Eyes smiled. “Well, I’ll tell you the story and you tell me what you think it means. Here. Come sit beside me.” She patted the rough-hewn bench she sat upon. “You can watch the words as I tell them. How would that be?”
“That,” replied Tu-Swift, “would be wonderful. I love hearing your voice.” He sat beside her and took her hand in his and peered at the runes that he had helped decode. This is the story she read him:
Once upon a time, long ago, there was a village blessed with enough for everyone. The village, named Acirema, was located near ancient beautiful forests of beech and oak. The forests abounded with plentiful game. Long ago, the people of Acirema had cut down part of the forests and turned it into rich farmland capable of producing abundant food. Beyond the forests lay snow-capped mountains. From the mountains, several clear beautiful rivers ran to the plains near the village of the Acirema.
These villagers, like most villagers, had developed many customs. Among them was their shared evening feast. Except when the weather was exceptionally bad, the villagers gathered in the evening to share a feast. They built a huge fire beneath a large cauldron. When the water finally began to boil, villagers began to contribute what they had to the community soup. Some brought potatoes and turnips; others brought large yellow squash, Jerusalem artichokes, and bright orange carrots; still others brought nettles, blackberry leaves, and hickory nuts. Others, who had been lucky at hunting or fishing or gathering eggs brought those contributions and added them to the soup. Each time the villagers made this soup, the first ingredient that they added was invariably a clean stone, though no-one knew exactly why. Many simply accepted that this was the proper way to make soup. Some theorized that the stone made it tastier. Others believed it helped the flavors circulate. Some thought it was a sacrifice to the god of the fresh mountain water, the sun, or the spirits of the forests.
When the soup was ready, everyone partook and everyone was satisfied. After the meal, they would take turns telling stories or reflecting on the events of the day. Sometimes, they would dialogue about why they began their recipe with a stone.
On occasion, strangers would wander by and they would join in the evening meal. Some of these strangers taught the Acirema new dances or songs or showed them new ways to make things. Some were strangely silent. All of them thanked them for the soup and most continued on their way after a day or two but some liked the village so much that they joined with the Acirema. Those who joined soon found a way to make their own contribution to the village and its soup. Although some harvests were sparse and some flush, the Acirema always had enough to feed everyone in the village. They worked in harmony and enjoyed life.
One hot summer day, it so happened that a fat old man wobbled unsteadily into their village. Despite his obvious extra folds of fat, he demanded a very large portion of soup. His appetite seemed nearly insatiable. He didn’t say much at his first few evening meals, but he observed carefully.
The Wobbly Man noticed that some people ate more than others. The Wobbly Man noticed that some people were taller than others; that some had blue eyes and some had brown eyes. The Wobbly Man noticed that some villagers put a large quantity of carrots in the soup and others only put in a few nuts. The Wobbly Man noticed that some people were old and some were young.
Although the Wobbly Man said little during the evening meal for the whole village, he spoke throughout the entire day, at first, only to one at a time. The Wobbly Man spoke to a strong young man thus:
“Well met, my strong young lad! You must be the strongest man I have ever seen! Surely, you are the strongest in the village! Am I right?”
The strong man answered modestly, “I may be.” He shrugged.
“Of course you are. And, yet, I know that you could be much stronger still. You are not really getting your fair share of the evening soup. Your grandfather eats as much as you do! How is that fair? I’m sure you’re a much better hunter.”
“Grandfather? My grandfather no longer walks this earth. Perhaps you saw my father? He often sits next to me.”
The Wobbly Man acted surprised. “Oh, that old man is your father. I wonder…he doesn’t seem nearly so strong as you do. Well…who knows? But anyway, he certainly eats a lot for his size. And, yet, he isn’t half the hunter you are, I imagine. I don’t really know. I’m just guessing from how little he adds to the soup.” The Wobbly Man smiled.
After a few moments of awkward silence, the strong young man said, “I’m going hunting. Do you know how to hunt? Do you wish to come too?”
The Wobbly Man replied, “Oh, no. I don’t hunt. You go ahead. And don’t pay any attention to what I said. It’s none of my concern. I like to joke a lot. That’s all. It means nothing. Sometimes a maple tree springs from an acorn, you know?”
The strong man shook his head. “No, that never happens. What are you talking about?”
The Wobbly Man replied, “No. Perhaps you are right. I’ve never actually seen that either. Well, you go hunting. Happy hunting!”
Next, the Wobbly Man spied one of the beautiful young maidens of the tribe. Long silky blond hair framed her smooth skin and her bright blue eyes. He followed her down to a nearby stream where she bathed herself. He watched with pleasure from behind some bushes. At last, she emerged, quite refreshed; she lay on a warm slab of shale to allow the sun to dry her front and back. When he judged she was about to re-robe herself, the Wobbly Man walked by casually placing himself between the young maiden and her robe.
“Oh! Well met, young maiden. I didn’t realize anyone was here. Nor did I realize it was your custom to go naked in public. I shall join you then and learn more about your ways.” In a flash, he dropped his own clothes in a pile at his feet.
The young maiden blushed and this excited the Wobbly Man even more; so much so, that his excitement was nearly visible. He strode up to her wondering whether his great weight would be sufficient to force her to do what he wanted regardless of her wishes.
“Sir, put your own clothes back on and hand me mine! You are a guest here and it will not do well for people to see you naked. They may misunderstand your intentions.”
“Oh, me, oh, my,” said the Wobbly Man. “I’m just having a little fun. Is that such a bad thing? It’s of no concern to me if you prefer other women instead of a handsome guy like me. I’m sure another young lady will be along shortly. Maybe this is where you congregate? Ah, but I’m a stranger. What do I know?”
As he spoke, the Wobbly Man reclothed himself and sauntered back toward the nearby village. Here, he spied a group of youth having a spear-throwing contest. After he spied a particularly long throw, he spoke up again.
“Nice throw! Back in my village a throw like that would earn you the right to a maiden such as the one lying naked by yon stream.” The Wobbly Man pointed in the direction he had just come. “Even now, she is quite — what is the right word? She is quite desirous of having pleasure with someone. She even begged me to have sex with her. She complained that none of the young men hereabouts were interested in wooing women. A shame really. But what do I know of your customs? But if I were younger and stronger, I wouldn’t wait so long to make my own desires known.”
The young men looked at each other and left off their spear throwing contest and ran down the path toward the river, each hoping to win the young lady’s heart.
The Wobbly Man smiled and chuckled to himself. He closed his eyes and imagined all of them forcing themselves on her. At least, he hoped that’s what would happen. If she were broken and exhausted, he would try his own luck again.
Now, a new opportunity presented itself and required his attention. The father of the young man he had spoken to earlier was sitting alone and cleaning fish. The Wobbly Man walked over and sat down on a nearby log. “Good afternoon, dear sir. I believe I spoke earlier today with your son. I’m still learning the names of the people here. What is your son’s name again?”
“Rigel.”
“Rigel! Rigel! That’s a fine name. And your son seems healthy and strong as well. I must tell you that my own son, named Junior, is every bit as ungrateful. More so. I’m sure they’ll grow out of it. That’s just the way youth are. I wouldn’t worry about it. Speaking of Rigel, where is he? Why isn’t he helping you clean the fish? That seems the least — I mean, it’s none of my business, of course, but it seems as though if he’s going to complain about you getting more of the soup than he gets, he would have a stronger argument if he did more to prepare the soup.”
The man stopped cleaning the fish and looked at the Wobbly Man. “What? Rigel said I eat more than my share?”
“What? Oh, no! No, no, no, not at all. Not in so many words.” Here, the Wobbly Man paused, tilted his head, and pretended to be thoughtful. He clicked his tongue, leaned closer to the slender old man and whispered in a conspiratorial tone.
“If you ask me, he should be very grateful that you agreed — you know — to act as his father. Not everyone I know is man enough to do that. Right?”
The fish cleaner stopped his work again and looked at the Wobbly Man with a frown. “What do you mean, ‘to act as his father.’? I am his father.”
The Wobbly Man nodded his head up and down vigorously. “Of course you are. Of course you are! You are the man who raised him. I’m sure beneath all that resentment, he has great respect for you. I’m sure he does. Right? You are sure too, right? All that resentment in his tone and so on — that’s just — he’s probably angry at his mother, really.”
Every day, the villagers of Acirema hunted, fished, gathered food, or worked their farmland. Every day, the villagers made things, observed things, added to the general well-being, the food stores, or the knowledge of the Acirema. Everyone, that is, except for The Wobby Man, who never hunted, never fished, never built or crafted anything with his own two hands.
That is not to say that The Wobbly Man was not busy. He was very busy each and every day. He told the tall people that they should receive more soup because their tall bodies needed it more than short people did. He told short people that they were short because they had not received enough soup. He told blue-eyed people that the brown-eyed people thought blue eyes were a deformity and he told brown-eyed people that the blue-eyed people thought brown eyes was a deformity. The Wobbly Man set husband against wife; he set father against son; he set men against women; he set the elderly against youngsters and he set youngsters against the elderly.
At first, the Acirema remained peaceful and kept to their own ways. But gradually, just as the sand in a river bank eventually becomes sandstone or shale, the people began to mistrust each other. As the elderly began to mistrust the young people, that made the young people suspicious of the old people.
Day after day, week upon week, month upon month, the Acirema tribe grew ever more suspicious of each other. When the autumn harvest came, many kept back a good proportion of their food for their private consumption. The community soup grew thinner in consistency and lesser in quantity. The fire needed not to be so large. People often ate in silence. Instead of sitting around the fire sharing songs and stories, the people retired to their own dwellings. When the cold winds of autumn turned icy, they stopped bothering to make soup at all, at least as a group.
The Wobbly Man had left. No-one seemed to have noticed exactly when he left. He did not tell them that he was going, nor did he share why he was going, nor where. No-one noticed him walk away from the Acirema, turn back and look from afar upon the village of Acirema and smile a broad grin. His last words to the Acirema, he muttered far out of earshot of the Acirema.
Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes spoke softly to each other in their native tongue — Veritas — as they explored their “House of the King.” They wanted to plan without being overheard.
Shadow Walker suggested, “At no time should both of us be asleep. I think I can trust our three ministers, but I am not sure. Cat Eyes told us that most of the Z-Lotz do not even believe the myths and legends that they insist everyone else believe! How can one see into such a heart? They shade their soul windows. Can you know the heart of such a one? Can your eagle eyes penetrate the blank stare?”
Eagle Eyes shook her head. “I cannot.” She paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “You are strong and wise and handsome and these things help. But you are still seen as something foreign. I cannot imagine that the people held much love for NUT-PI. He was a cruel and ineffective leader who repeatedly betrayed those loyal to him. There may be others from among the Z-Lotz…no, there must be others from among the Z-Lotz who are popular and who are ambitious enough to be King. Even among the three ministers.”
Shadow Walker nodded. As they spoke, they strode through the King’s House. Shadow Walker’s hand’s idly trailed along the walls as they spoke. The surface felt shiny like rock, but felt warm, something like a rock in the sun, but they were inside. Odd. The surface seemed rock-like but not really rock. It was also much too regular. He wondered whether some of the tiny but deadly red spiders were on the walls.
Eagle Eyes explored her surroundings a different way — by darting her eyes everywhere. Shadow Walker stopped and took the hands of Eagle Eyes. Unlike the Z-Lotz, his eyes were open as he said, “Thank you for saving my life! We will get through this, but I must confess…I don’t know how. I need you and your quick thinking if we are to survive.”
Eagle Eyes tried not to blush, but she couldn’t help herself. She bit her lip and tried to plan. That helped some. Wild images swarmed before her like hiveless bees not knowing where to alight. “Sometimes, I wish we could escape in the night. I’m not sure we could even do that, but it would be wrong. Even if these are Z-Lotz and ROI, they need a leader who isn’t corrupt.”
Shadow Walker gave no outward sign as to whether he had seen her blush. He nodded. “To leave now would be — cowardly. I do trust the parents of Cat Eyes. And, that’s good because we need them to translate. But — now that they know their daughter is alive, I presume that they will wish to journey to see her very soon. In fact, Tree Vines has already told me so. When that happens….?”
Original drawing by Pierce Morgan
Eagle Eyes nodded. “Regardless of what the future brings, it seems that you and I would do well to learn more of the language — and of the ways — of the Z-Lotz and ROI.”
Shadow Walker grimaced. “You are right. Though I wish they would learn more to be like the Veritas, to tell the truth. Just think. The only way for me not to be leader is for someone to kill me! That method ensures that only the most powerful — or most treacherous — will become King. And it will encourage intrigue among the people — not honesty and openness — which are two virtues we desperately need to kill off this plague.”
Eagle Eyes sighed. “If we even can kill it off. We have to try though. That has to be our top priority. Meanwhile, we need to learn as much as we can including who, if anyone, we can trust. I know you must miss Many Paths. I miss her as well. Still, our lives would be simpler if we were together. We could stay here and rule and teach our children to rule and how to stay alive. When the time comes, our offspring could wrest control from you by “force” — though — “farce” might be closer to the truth. We could feign your death and then, once the new ruler was firmly in place, you and I could leave.”
Shadow Walker frowned and then laughed. “That is way too long to wait! But I — I do like your idea about faking my death. That might be a way to provide them another ruler. Anyway, first we must try to help them avoid being killed off. They’ll be plenty of time to plot out our leaving after that. But you said you missed Many Paths.”
Eagle Eyes nodded. “I do. Don’t you?”
Shadow Walker nodded. “Of course, but … I thought you would say you miss Trunk of Tree.”
Eagle Eyes frowned. “Have you noticed how all of the rock in this place is the same exact color?”
“I don’t think it’s really rock. At least, it’s not like any rock I’ve seen before, but — yes. It’s all the same. Too much the same. Not like real rock.” Shadow Walker wondered whether Eagle Eyes wanted to avoid answering his implied question.
Eagle Eyes pointed, “Except over there. Look.” She strode over to a spot behind the throne.
Shadow Walker followed her over. It was subtle, but there was a definite set of lines making a rectangle. Shadow Walker traced the line. It felt different too. He pushed on various spots and felt a slight give. They tried pushing at the same time in a variety of places but nothing happened.
Shadow Walker again found himself wishing that Many Paths were here — or, even better, that he was with her back in the Center Place of the Veritas. Yet again, he took out the Sixth Ring of Empathy. As he felt it and stared at the crystal, as always, he felt a little closer to her.
In his mind’s eye flashed a clear image. Shadow Walker saw himself as a very young boy. He held a leaf in his hand — a dry leaf. He turned and looked up to the side where he saw a beautiful woman smiling at him. It wasn’t Many Paths though. It was She Who Saves Many Lives. Her hair was only flecked with a little gray. Shadow Walker’s tiny hand moved from the dry leaf to a dry seed pod. He heard his little boy’s voice ask the plant, “Thirsty?” He looked up to the kind face of the Shaman and saw her nod. He saw himself bend down and pick up his cup of water from the ground. He lifted it to the leaf and frowned, unsure how to give the plant a drink. She Who Saves Many Lives gently took the cup from his hands and bent down beside him. “Here, Shadow Walker. Here is where the plant drinks.” She slowly poured the water into the ground all around the base of the plant. The soil darkened and turned muddy. He heard his young self ask the Shaman, “Why did you waste the water and not give the plant a drink?”
She Who Saves Many Lives smiled and said, “I did. Be patient and you’ll see.”
Shadow Walker shook his head to clear his mind of the clear memory. He turned away from the wall and looked instead at the back of his Throne. He shook his head. He didn’t like sitting up there. It seemed absurdly huge. It was elaborately carved, not only on the front, but here on the back as well. The front and sides at least were beautifully turned out. The back however…? He glanced at Eagle Eyes who had also turned around and she was pointing to a part of the carving that looked like a small house with rectangular windows and a rectangular door. He touched the door and heard a loud creaking behind him. The noise startled them both. Shadow Walker’s hand flew instinctively to his sword. But no-one else was near. The noise, it became obvious, arose from the grinding of stone rubbing against stone as a hole appeared in the wall behind them. After the noise stopped, the pair peered into the darkness beyond the wall. They each cupped their hands around their eyes and waited for their eyes to adjust.
Trunk of Tree wrapped his wound with boiled yellow dock and plantain leaves and then tied strips of rawhide to hold the poultice in place. He clenched his teeth. Then, he clenched them tighter still. He realized that he was hungry and exhausted. He had hiked aimlessly and alone for three days. Most of that time, he had been angry — so angry that he had stupidly stepped heavily upon the dry branch of a fallen tree. The branch had snapped and as his weight drew his leg downward now that nothing any longer held it; at the same time, the sharp end of the broken branch snapped upward, making a long gash in the side of his lower leg.
He mentally listed his grievances. He was angry at the red death. He was angry at Many Paths for sending her own betrothed, Shadow Walker, with the only woman Trunk of Tree had ever loved, Eagle Eyes, on a mission together and now they were far away, living as king and queen and surely, they were mating now. Trunk of Tree clenched his fists and banged them down hard on the trunk of the fallen tree that he sat on. Even in his nearly blind anger, some small part of his brain knew enough to hit the bark with the side of his hand rather than his knuckles. That survival part of his brain knew that injuring his hands would not help him in his current situation, nor allow him somehow to win back Eagle Eyes, should he so deign.
Trunk of Tree swallowed a wordless growl as he thought about how angry he was with She Who Saves Many Lives. She had chosen Many Paths as her successor and then made up various schemes and tests to make it come true. He was sure of it. Many Paths was a woman and it annoyed Trunk of Tree that he had not been chosen as leader. He was much stronger than Many Paths. And, he knew what to do in any situation immediately while Many Paths apparently, he thought, felt obligated to live up to her name and think of a thousand ways to kill a deer while he just picked up the nearest stone and whacked it on the head. That wouldn’t work of course, but that wasn’t the point.
Trunk of Tree could hear his stomach growl. He hadn’t eaten all day and the scant supplies he had grabbed as he stormed off had run out early yesterday. He looked down and saw deer tracks plain as day run through this small clearing where he had made his fire. Some of these tracks are fresh. Good, he thought. He stood up.
“My leg is okay to walk on,” he mumbled to himself. “It’s not bleeding through my bandaging, crude though it may be. Good,” he muttered. “I don’t want the scent to scare off the deer. Nor my anger. I must slow my breathing and become one with the track and with the deer and with the traces of the deer and with wants and needs of the deer.”
Trunk of Tree began to imagine once again that Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes were together. “I need to discipline myself. I need to concentrate. I can kill them later if need be. But first, I need to find food. I need to focus on the deer. Find the deer. Find the deer. Kill the deer. Eat the deer.”
He found that his wound did not slow him down much. The deer tracks were becoming fresher. At last he caught a glimpse of the buck he had been tracking. The hunter bent down and tightened the straps holding his bandage in place. When he stood back up, the buck was nowhere to be seen. He was still walking so the wind would keep his scent away from the deer and his long training allowed him to stalk stealthily. He began to croon one of the soft hunting chants that he had learned as a boy. Although the slightest snap of a twig or a sudden movement would sent the buck bounding off through the brush, these songs seemed to pique the curiosity of the deer allowing a much closer approach.
“I am the deer. My mind is clear. I walk with no sound,
Yet I sing you my song. We all go to ground. It cannot be wrong.
Come become a part of me.
Someday I’ll die too.
Perhaps becoming part of you.
This is how it’s meant to be.
I am the deer.
My mind is clear.”
Trunk of Tree halted. The track led into a dense thicket of blackberry bushes. Trunk of Tree smiled at the irony. The only reason he would be able to keep tracking the deer was because of his deer skin clothing. A smile crept onto the corner of his lips. This irony was all the funnier because he himself had killed the deer whose skin he was using. His memory flashed back to that day. Eagle Eyes, naturally, had first spotted the track. Trunk of Tree had begun to run after it since the tracks seemed so fresh. Shadow Walker had grabbed him, faced him and sniffed the air. Shadow Walker had been right. They would have simply spooked the deer.
Anyway, Trunk of Tree, thought to himself, enough reminiscing. I must return to the moment. Trunk of Tree slid sideways through the thicket fairly easily. When he came out the other side though, the deer track went right into a cliff. He stared at the track. It made no sense. He began to recite his song again and followed the track right up to … a solid stone wall. He muttered to himself, “This makes no sense. Is this another of those stupid magic doors? I don’t see ….”
Then, Trunk of Tree noticed that what seemed to have been a solid wall really contained a narrow passageway barely wide enough for a deer. The rock walls of the passage tilted outwards slightly. As he walked through, he noticed markings along the moss and rock tripe growing on those wall as though deer antlers had scraped through. When he made it through this passage, he saw the deer tracks veer off to his left down toward a spring. The deer was not in sight. He contemplated tracking the deer across the cold running stream. If he did, his bandage would certainly be washed away along with the medicinal herbs he had so carefully searched out, boiled, and applied.
He wished Eagle Eyes were here. Her eyes were remarkably good. Trunk of Tree tried to push the image away, but it came back. And as he imaged Eagle Eyes beside him, he realized for the first time in his life that Eagle Eyes not only had remarkable vision. She looked at things differently. Trunk of Trees eyes darted always, as did everyone’s. But sometimes, Eagle Eyes looked — for a long time — and she looked methodically. She looked patiently. Trunk of Tree bit his lower lip. It wasn’t just her eyes — it was her patience — and her method that made her so valuable. And, then, Trunk of Tree had another insight. While he may never have such clear vision as Eagle Eyes, he could use her patience and her method.
Trunk of tree looked off to the right. His stomach rumbled again, as though he needed to be reminded of his hunger. He decided to ignore that for a moment and he looked up the slope to his right, trying to imagine the way Eagle Eyes would look. He looked back and forth along a large rock outcropping and realized that something was amiss. At first, he couldn’t tell what. Then, in his mind, he heard the voice of Eagle Eyes say “road” in her wonderful voice. “Road” he muttered to himself. “What road?” He walked up the slope the length of a fallen pine and sure enough, there was a man-made road up there. He looked back toward the cleft in the rock that he had just slid through. There was no sign of the cleft. He walked back down. He couldn’t really see that the cleft was there until he was almost upon it. He walked back up to the road and scanned the far side of the stream, looking for a sign of the deer in the same patient, methodical way that Eagle Eyes would have used. He decided to walk along the road for a time. He now saw that it curved gently around the base of what appeared to be a mountain. As he walked he kept stopping and looking back toward the creek to see whether the deer had reappeared.
Trunk of Tree shook his head muttering to himself yet again. “I’m so damned hungry, I’m imagining the smell of deer meat cooking.” Then, he stopped and sniffed the air. “No,” he thought, “that’s no illusion. That is the smell of venison cooking.”
As he followed the road, the scent strengthened. The road took a sharp turn to the right. Trunk of Tree found himself hungrier than ever now, but he slowed his pace. He may be coming upon enemies. He heard voices! Enemies! Wait, he thought. They are speaking Veritas. He frowned and thought, That boy’s voice sounds exactly like…like that of Tu-Swift! Have I been going in circles?
Trunk of Tree stepped off the path and pressed himself against the rock, peering from behind a tree that grew next to the rocks. Coming down the path he saw Tu-Swift…holding hands with Cat Eyes!
Seeing no-one else, Trunk of Tree stepped back to the road and looked again, forcing himself to look carefully, as Eagle Eyes might do.
He swallowed hard and spoke out loud. “Tu-Swift? Is that you? And Cat Eyes? What are you doing here?”
Tu-Swift and Cat Eyes were both startled at the sudden appearance of the large, well-muscled body of Trunk of Tree and both reflexively hit the ground on either side of the path.
Tu-Swift realized a split second later that it really was Trunk of Tree. He climbed back onto the path and yelled happily, “Trunk of Tree! Hey! Well met!” He loped toward him and embraced him. Cat Eyes came up as well and smiled at Trunk of Tree and took one of his hands.
Tu-Swift shook his head. “How on earth did you get here? You’re nowhere near the ancient tunnel!”
Trunk of Tree frowned. “How did I get here? How did … where am I exactly?”
Cat Eyes answered, “You are in the village of the Veritas. The village you call ‘The Veritas on the far side of the mountain. But how did you get here? And, what happened to your leg?”
“Ah, so you are the one they call “The Commissar,” said the one they call “Scarface.”
“Indeed, I am. And you are?”
“Oh, no need for formalities. You can just call me ‘Comrade.’ Because, that’s what we all are, right? Comrades. Comrades-in-arms who sometimes need to sacrifice for each other. But — there I am going on about ideals when I should be focusing on the matter at hand. We understand that one of your subordinates named Dmitry Mendeleev was responsible for initiating and perfecting the “Death Cult” initiative known as “Operation Super Spreader”?”
The Commissar tilted his head and looked off to the side. Then he frowned and slowly began to nod his head. “Dmitry. Dmitry Mendeleev, you say? Yes, I do remember him. The name — you know. Memorable. He came in for an interview but didn’t cut the mustard.”
“He didn’t work here? He never worked here? Are you sure?”
“Well, yes. I’m sure. I know the names of the janitors and the folks in the mail room. To make sure they are all trustworthy. I have personally looked at and studied the personnel file of everyone who works in this facility.” The Commissar hesitated only for the briefest and most insulting moment. “Comrade.” The Commissar shrugged; added, “Of course, we have records as well. We can’t count on everyone having the same type of memory as do I, can we, Comrade? Needless to say, you and your team are welcome to look through them. But if I may be so bold, can you explain why you needed him in particular? I’m sure we have experts relevant to your current needs. And, superior to Dmitry, I might add.”
“No, no. Nothing like that. We only wanted to make sure he got the recognition he deserved.”
“Oh, well, there! You see? Now that I know why you need him, I can indeed help you. You see, it was a team effort, under my leadership of course. But a team effort.” The Commissar gave that short, snorty laugh he always gave. “It wasn’t much of a team, at the beginning. No. I had to drag them kicking and screaming into the room marked, “Subvert to a death cult.” It took some fancy footwork to get everyone on board. If you talk to my team, you’ll hear them all say it was me; that I deserve the credit. But the truth is…no. It was them. Us. All of us working together to make it happen. Imagine! A third of a country chanting for their own failure, their own downfall, their betrayal, their death. Something to see. Something to see. But I suppose — yes, I’m sure — it was exactly the team that ended up working on Super-Spreader that he was applying for. So. There you go.”
“Yes. Yes. This may all tie up so much more neatly than I would have imagined possible. Indeed. You see, the problem is that we’ve been found out.”
“‘Found out’? What do you mean? Who found what out?”
“Ah, Commissar, well, that’s the thing of it. Who found what out? What indeed? We need to change the narrative, I’m afraid. You see the Americans. Stupid, stupid, Americans. As you know, they didn’t re-elect Nasha Marionetka so … the Americans didn’t cover their trail at all. Now, the whole world knows. It only took two days! But — you understand — it’s one thing to convince Americans to kill themselves. That’s called ‘clever.’ But being found out to convince Americans to kill themselves. The world calls that ‘evil.” We can’t have that.”
“Of course, not even the Great Mother Russia can be expected not to have the occasional “Bad Apple”. We were going to pin the whole thing on a rogue kid. Someone who wanted to climb too far too fast. It’s disappointing that we have to rewrite all the copy. But, in many ways, your own sacrifice is even better for the Motherland. Spasibo.”
The Commissar frowned. “My sacrifice? What sacrifice?” He could feel sweat running down the front of his shirt. His eyes darted among the four men in his office. Three had not spoken a single word. But he could see, even beneath their suits, that any one of them could kill him with his bare hands. When he had first become an officer, he had stayed in shape. But those days were long past. He’d have to rely on his brains to get out of this one. He couldn’t fight his way out. But perhaps he could think his way out. Yet again.”
Scarface smiled. Or, at least the half of his face that could smile, smiled. “I think you see how little we must change the narrative. Instead of the young overly ambitious boy who wanted to leap to the head of things, we have instead the disgruntled old man who has started to question whether his commitment to the Homeland has been rewarded commensurate with his sacrifice.” Now, Scarface smiled again. This time, seemingly in great pain, he forced the smile to crack his entire face. “You thought you could prove your worth to your superiors by killing innocents. Which, of course, we would never tolerate. Such a callous attitude toward precious human life must be excised from the body politic.” At this, one of Scarface’s ‘assistants’ broke out in a raucous laugh. This made The Commissar jerk his head to the left and blink repeatedly. His heart was thudding so hard, he couldn’t understand the nature of the joke.
The Commissar felt his head jerk back to his right. His eyes had seen movement. Now he stared down the barrel of a .22 LR semi-automatic hand gun with a silencer. From somewhere far away, he heard a soft word.
Tu-Swift’s eyes darted immediately to what he most wanted to see. There she was, her back turned away, with only a tress of hair across the back of her ear, but he recognizer her. Cat Eyes poured over the writings she had discovered. “Books” — that was they word they had learned for such large sheaves of knowledge marked down. Six of her “students” nearly encircled her. As he neared, he noticed his heart beating fast and hard, though he only caught momentary glimpses of her. At a distance of a medium-sized fallen tree, he stopped and gulped hard. Cat Eyes was still turned away from him when suddenly, she turned her head and looked him straight in the eye. What happened next seemed inexplicable to Tu-Swift. She turned, saw him, smiled and then — she flew to him — or perhaps floated to him — or ran to him. After a very long time and a very short time, she wrapped her arms around him tightly and he responded in kind. He loved the smell of her, though now, he noticed a slight tinge of spicy mint. If anything, that made her smell even better!
After far too short a time, they drew apart slightly, still holding on and they began exchanging news. After a few moments of over-talking each other, they both laughed and promised that they would take turns, just as any civilized Veritas knows how to do. They played a game they called “make five” and thus, it was determined that Tu-Swift would begin. He described how the red death had spread through the tribe and how the solution had appeared in a dream of She Who Saves Many Lives. Eagle Eyes and Shadow Walker had gone to reconnoiter the giant stone encampment of the Z-Lotz and they had been captured. At this point in the story, he backed off enough to look into her face. He saw that her eyes already brimmed with a score of urgent questions. He smiled at her; spoke gently; put a hand on each side of her face as he said, “Cat Eyes. There is no hurry. I am here for as long as it pleases you. I will answer any question from you. Ever.” Then, he kissed her on the lips.
Instead of resuming his narrative uninterrupted (as was common practice among the Veritas), he smiled and asked, “What is your most pressing question?”
Cat Eyes said, “I have so many, but are they okay? I mean, if they were captured, in a large city, they must have died! Is that what happened?”
Tu-Swift shook his head and answered, “No, they are both okay. More than okay. Shadow Walker killed NUT-PI and became king of the Z-LOTZ!”
Cat Eyes’s eyes widened. “But how is that possible?!”
Tu-Swift shrugged. “That’s the thing. We do not yet know. We’ve only sent a few messages back and forth on eagles. They say that Shadow Walker is King & both are fine, but they haven’t gotten to the how part yet.”
Cat Eyes shook her head. “What? What!? What could be more important to tell than to tell how they escaped?”
Tu-Swift smiled. “I’ll tell you, given half a chance. Cat Eyes, your parents are alive! They will likely arrive here themselves in a half moon’s time. They will be among a larger party of visitors. Many Paths has an idea that she wants to discuss among all the Veritas.”
“My parents are alive!? What? How? How? What? Tell me!”
“I’m really sorry, Cat Eyes. Believe me, I’m curious too. We have been sitting around a campfire speculating about so many things. But soon, we will know. A small party is coming from the Z-Lotz city and that includes your parents. We will absorb their story and send them on, if they are able, along with a few others. You and I will find out at the same time, if I may stay here, of course.” Tu-Swift lifted his eyebrows.
“You’d better! Or, I swear, I’ll break both your knees!”
“You wouldn’t be the first to try that.”
Tu-Swift meant it as a joke, but Cat Eyes felt she had been insensitive. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it, of course. I forgot about your knee. But you were strong enough to make the journey here so, I guess it’s better?”
“Yes, thanks. I’m not back to full speed quite yet, but I’m getting there. I meant it as a joke, though. I’m not bothered. Even if I am never the fastest one in the tribe, what of that? I’m alive; I’m well. So many died. So many of us.” He paused and looked at Cat Eyes.
She bit her lip and asked the question that Tu-Swift willed her to ask, “Tu-Swift, how is Suze? Why isn’t she here with you?”
Tears welled up in the eyes of Tu-Swift, soon echoed by those Cat Eyes.
Cat Eyes gently said, “I’m so sorry, Tu-Swift. I loved her too. Without her help, and yours, of course, we would still not know how to decode these messages. But, that aside, she was so … alive. So much, herself.”
“I know. I know.”
“Who else? Who else is gone, Tu-Swift?”
So Tu-Swift told of Stone Chipper and his son Horse Viewer and of so many others. And, he could see each time that he told of a person, Cat Eyes felt sorrow. In her relatively short time at the Center Place of the Veritas, she had come to know every one of the people there as an individual. She understood as well that each death was also a blow to the whole village and an especially hard blow to those closest to the person who had just died.
Tu-Swift himself felt a great heaviness. The recitation of every single name on the list felt like another tree trunk had fallen on his drooping shoulders. At the end, at last, he spoke of Many Paths and She Who Saves Many Lives.
“Many Paths grew very sick, Cat Eyes. She Who Saves Many Lives and I took care of her. Many Paths is fine now, but She Who Saves Many Lives herself became quite ill. She was still alive when I left to see you, but — but quite ill — and talking a lot about the Tree of Life and how we were all just parts of it. It makes me think that she thinks she’s dying. But I don’t really know. But the last piece of my news is about the nature of Many Path’s dream.
“The dream of She Who Saves Many Lives,” he continued, “allowed us to save many lives in the Center Place of the Veritas. Now, none are any longer sick. It may be that the dream of Many Paths that will end up saving even more lives, not just now, but for the future as well. She was much taken by the notion that all these — books — that you study — that they came from another time when there was more — so much more — but also less — so much less. And, she is — she wants to prevent that from happening again. She wants to bring all the tribes together. But she wants to know first, whether the Veritas here could agree to such a plan. And she would like to know what more you have learned from all these books. And, I do want to hear your news, but … I want you to know that I am so happy to see you. I missed you, Cat Eyes.”
They embraced again, each feeling the pain and comfort of the other.
Cicadas thought Many Paths, her eyelids heavy in the sultry afternoon. Cawing crows. She had thought she was well, but the simple walk to see Tu-Swift and the walk back up to her own cabin had exhausted Many Paths again. After helping the old shaman drink the tea, she saw She Who Saves Many Lives drift off again. This made Many Paths herself tired. She lay down just to rest for a moment and tried to still her racing mind. Maybe it was crazy to try to bring six tribes together. How could she be sure the other tribes would not simply use the occasion to lie, cheat, and steal — or even try to attack the Veritas? How can one trust those who steal children, she wondered. She turned the problem over and over, but she kept thinking in circles.
Many Paths at last gave in to the waves of sleep that lapped over her. In her dream, she lay on the shore of a giant lake that smelled of salt. She sat near, but apart from a circle on the beach. Here sat seven of her grandmother’s grandmother’s grandmothers. Each wore a silver gown and each sat on a log which had apparently been arranged for the purpose of their council circle. In the middle of the seven of them a campfire burned. But were they grandmothers she wondered? For now, they looked like the Seven Rings of Empathy, but with human faces.
They were speaking much like the manner of the Veritas when engaged in serious dialogue. That is to say, each one spoke clearly, slowly, calmly, but with emphasis. Their voices were clear but rang as though each ring had now grown to a large chime. They sang to her and to each other. Not in Veritas, did they speak. Nor did they speak in any human language she had ever heard. A kind of music swelled — harmonious, unhurried, and yet, she knew what they were saying. She knew not the names of the seven grandmothers. She had never seen them. Yet they spoke to her as old friends, one by one, in a circle, turn by turn.
“The time has come to put war behind us forever,” said First Grandmother.
“The branches must sway together in the wind,” sang Second Grandmother.
“Our animal cousins eat to live. Our plant cousins take nourishment from the earth, the sky, the sun, the rain.” Thus sang Third Grandmother.
“Our animal cousins do not kill all day. They mostly love and play,” sang Fourth Grandmother.
“Our cousin Ant becomes one of a Colony, yet the Colonies fight each other,” sang Fifth Grandmother.
“Our cousin Wolf becomes one of a Pack, yet Packs may fight each other,” sang Sixth Grandmother.
“What may Ant learn from Wolf? What may Wolf learn from Ant?” Asked Seventh Grandmother.
“While the Hare is running from Wolf, he does not think how Wolf is his cousin. Nor does Wolf think how Hare is also his cousin,” sang First Grandmother.
“Yet, when the forest is afire, both run for their lives without regard for stopping to feast,” sang Second Grandmother.
“We Veritas have come to know and work with many of our cousins that move and many cousins that are rooted to the ground. We work with trees. We work with wolves. We work with bees. We work with eagles. We work with the corn,” sang Third Grandmother.
“It takes patience to work with our cousins. We have to see how they are and what they need. We learn a bit of their tongue and they learn a bit of ours. We give them something they need and they give us something we need,” sang Fourth Grandmother.
“Now, the earth herself ails. The Tree of Life herself ails. It is not a time for Colony to fight Colony,” sang Fifth Grandmother.
“It is time for Wolf Pack to work with Wolf Pack,” sang Sixth Grandmother.
“The Great Tree of Life herself must be calm; must remind all her children that they are all her children. These are dangerous times. These are times wherein fear may cause cousin Rabbit to run into fire. These are times wherein panic may cause cousin Buffalo to run off a cliff. These are times when cousin Monkey may try a jump too great and fall from high branches to death,” sang Seventh Grandmother.
Suddenly, the Seven Grandmothers rose as one. Each turned to her left and walked a few paces before sitting back down. The sweet singing continued.
“The flower opens to the bee. The grass bends in the breeze but holds tightly to the ground with her roots. The tree who falls does not resent her chance to nourish the beetles. It is time. It is time to sing together now,” sang First Grandmother.
“We must learn each other’s dances. We must learn each other’s songs. We must learn each other’s ways. It is time. It is time to sing together now,” sang Second Grandmother.
“We must learn each other’s crops. We must ensure that everyone has enough so that none feel they must kill human cousins to survive,” sang Third Grandmother. “It is time. It is time to sing together now.”
“We have enough. We must spend our time learning from each other; dancing with each other; singing with each other; playing with each other; exploring with each other. It is time. It is time to sing together now,” sang Fourth Grandmother.
“We have enough time now that we may be patient as a tree. It is quicker to understand those whose tongue is the same. It is easier to play the games we already know. It is more comfortable to wear the clothes we wear. And, yet, if we do not try a new tongue; if we do not play a new game; if we do not try new clothes, how will we really know which suits us more properly? It is time. It is time to sing together now,” sang Fifth Grandmother.
“All the human children of earth now; all the human branches of The Great Tree of Life; all the Tribes and all the Peoples — we call upon you now. It is time. It is time to sing together now,” sang Sixth Grandmother.
“The Great Tree of Life does not desire to shed more tears for her human children. The Great Earth does not desire to destroy her human children. The Great Bear of the Sky does not wish to send Rocks like Rain to destroy her human children. Enough is enough. It is time. It is time to sing together now,” sang Seventh Grandmother.
The Seven Grandmothers arose as one, turned, and moved one seat to the left. They sat and sang again and again until each of the Seven Ancient Grandmothers returned to the seat she had occupied at first.
They rose one last time and sang together standing — a long and haunting song full of sadness and joy; full of disappointment and hope; so full of love that tiny flashes of fear or anger only amplified the love. As they sang, they began to shimmer and enlarge. Then, they joined together as a great luminous ring and rose high into the sky. In her dream, Many Paths watched them sail high into the dark sky until at last they became seven stars sparkling together as a kind of misty dipper.
When Many Paths awoke, she felt at last as though she had finally and completely defeated the illness that had struck her. She glanced over at She Who Saves Many Lives. The old shaman’s breathing was slow but steady. Many Paths felt the shaman’s head with her left hand and found it only slightly warm. As she did so, Many Paths noticed that she had slipped four of The Seven Rings of Empathy onto her left hand. Then, she looked at her right hand and saw the other three rings. In a flash, she remembered her dream. She swung her legs over the edge of the cot, arose and searched for Tu-Swift. She found him down by the stream. He had harvested more yellow dock, elder flowers, and rose hips. He had quite a pile in a small basket beside him but he stared hard into the middle of the river. He stared so intently that he did not hear Many Paths approaching and when she touched him gently on the arm he started violently. Many Paths embraced her brother and she sent her love to him silently. At last, he pulled away and looked in her face, his eyes brimming with tears.
She gently touched his cheek and said, “I miss her too, Tu-Swift. I miss her too.” She paused and stared at the middle of the creek with him. They sat shoulder to shoulder for a time.
At last, Many Paths turned and said, “Tu-Swift. I know what we must do. I need your help. Will you help me?”
Tu-Swift set his jaw and looked into the eyes of his sister. “Yes, Many Paths. Yes, I will.”
Shadow Walker looked out on the crowd before him. A few moments earlier, he had been facing humiliation and death by torture at the hands of this cruel bully, NUT-PI. Now, the people were looking to Shadow Walker as their new leader. Out of sight, his fingers nervously nervously rolled the sixth ring of empathy — the one that only he shared with Many Paths. Indeed, there were so many paths for what to say. He began by really accepting that, for now at least, he was their leader.
He wondered: Who are these people, really? He looked out at the faces, trying to look straight through the eyes and into the souls of as many as he could. He could see that the eyes of the adults, and even many of the children, were intentionally shrouded from him.
Signals came through, nonetheless. Some of the children were still open hearted. Several of the people were shaking with fever. Many nearby sported the telltale red sores. They were expectant, he could sense, but they were also disappointed. They had come here to see a blood show. Only NUT-PI had been killed, at least so far. But most of the people wanted more. They wanted an enemy to destroy — and who would make a better target than strangers from other tribes?
“Look!” He began in a voice that rang both loud and clear. His ability to speak in ROI was limited and his Z-Lotz was nearly non-existent. He held his empty hands aloft. Using sign language, he asked his audience to look at their hands as well. “Same!” Then, he did the same for his hair, his eyes, his ears, his arms which were quite muscular. “Same!”
“You and I. We fight together! You came here for kill. We will kill! We will kill these horrible red … spiders! They are small! Very small! But there are many of them. They have eaten some of your people. They are many. They are hungry. But you are big. And smart. And together, we will kill this strange enemy. They have killed your friends. They have killed you children, you sister, you brother, you father, you mother. They want to kill you. I say NO! No more will they kill. We will kill them instead.”
Shadow Walker saw Eagle Eyes working through the crowd to stand beside him. As she ascended the small stone dais, she pointed to the sky. He followed her finger and looked up to the sky, hoping for some inspiration. In the distance, he saw eagles soaring on the updrafts. One joined from afar, circled with them for a moment, and then shot down toward him. Despite the gravity and delicacy of his current position, he chuckled silently to himself and said under his breath, “a little late to do much good.” Then, he frowned as the huge bird swooped toward him. He muttered under his breath: “With no NUT-PI to attack…I wonder…” He quickly wrapped his tunic around his forearm and put his strong arm out as a perch for the bird hoping it was trained to alight rather than tear out his eyes. For its size, the eagle was amazingly light. It skillfully stopped its descent and landed on his arm. He could see that it carried a message and, working hard to control his own breathing and heartbeat, he forced calm upon himself. He reminded himself that this eagle was also his brother and wanted a clean clear world of truth and beauty.
He took the small piece of bark and decoded the small marks. He glanced at Eagle Eyes and handed her the note as well. She read and then spoke in a surprisingly loud, clear voice. “This is surely a sign from the Great Bear of the Sky. He sends us a message at our time of need. Shall our leader — Shadow Walker — tell you what it says?”
Shadow Walker stared for a moment at Eagle Eyes and frowned. He trusted her so he softened his brow and reinforced her message. His voice rang out and echoed off the far walls of stone. “My people! Indeed! We have received a message. The Great Bear of the Sky tells us that we will have victory in our war against the dread red plague of many spiders! He tells us — through a very wise shaman — that we must separate most of those who are well from those who are sick. The sick must be given much tea. Those of us who are well will make much tea for the sick. Rose hips. Elderberry. Yarrow. Yellow Dock.” The faces of the crowd were blank. Not knowing the words for these, he had slipped into the Veritas names. His sign language had not helped much.
Tree Vines strode up beside him and translated these instructions into Z-Lotz. Now, Shadow Walker could see nods and eyes that understood. He turned to Tree Vines and silently thanked him.
Shadow Walker spoke again, this time pausing after every sentence so that Tree Vines had time to translate. “I need you now to pledge to me that you will all join me in killing this sneaky unseen enemy of tiny red spiders!” The crowd responded enthusiastically. He continued.
“The people need a Minister to organize the finding of these herbs and the making of the tea. We need a Minister to organize the distribution of this tea to the sick. This will be done by those who have already recovered from the red plague. The people need a Minister to help organize where people will stay so that sick people do not make well people also sick. If you think you could do any of these jobs, come up here and let us speak.”
“Meanwhile, all the rest of you can help kill the red plague spiders by going home and scrubbing your hands and threshing your floors anew.”
A voice rang out from the crowd. “What about killing the prisoners? We want to watch them die!”
Eagle Eyes spoke out. Not only were her words translated by the mother of Cat Eyes, but her voice echoed the clarity and passion of her speaking. “You have today witnessed a miracle! A message came from the sky! I have read this message to you. It says nothing about killing prisoners. Anyone can be brave enough to kill someone tied up. Anyone. A child can do it. Are you a people brave enough to fight an invisible enemy? Are you a people brave enough to fight against a whole sea of terrible deadly spiders? Are you a people brave enough and wise enough to follow the orders from the Great Bear in the Sky? I believe you are! You are the army! We must fight this invisible army against us. Go and kill these horrible spiders in and around your own tents and cabins. I say these teeny spiders have killed enough ROI; have killed enough Z-Lotz. Now go! Only those who want to be Ministers should remain.”
Most of the crowd dispersed but seven remained: six men and one woman. The first man approached and said in passable Veritas, “I am Dictard Bennoli. I will be your minister to help organize where people will be. I know where all the best people live and, more importantly, I know how to access the gold of NUT-PI. I only require a small portion of that gold for myself. I will help you and you can trust me.”
Shadow Walker frowned. “Your people — our people — our people die. So many are sick. Why are you — you are trying to get gold now? Don’t you understand? Most of you could die. Why would you want gold? It will do you no good if you are dead.”
“We all want gold. It buys what we want. What is the point of being a Minister — or a King for that matter — if there is nothing in it for us? I don’t know what magic allows you to speak to eagles, but I know this “message” — if it even exists — is not from the Great Sky Bear.”
Shadow Walker didn’t like to lie or even stretch the truth. He had followed the lead of Eagle Eyes and now he found himself stuck in a dilemma. He disliked this man before him, but ….
Eagle Eyes stepped forward. “I am glad you speak Veritas so well. But we do not speak Z-Lotz well. Only Tree Vines.” Here she gestured at Tree Vines who was now busy embracing his wife. Eagle Eyes could hardly blame him for that. “She is busy. But she will help translate. It is a message from The Great Bear of the Sky that has been sent from a part of the Great Tree of Life. It comes from one among us known as ‘She Who Saves Many Lives.’ Why is she named that, do you suppose? She is named that because she has saved many lives. And continues to do so. She, like us, is a part of the Great Tree of Life. She sent this message with Eagle, another part of the Great Tree of Life. She sent this message to us, and we are another part of the Great Tree of Life. She sent it to save lives! The Great Bear of the Sky loves the people. All the people. This is a message from The Great Bear of the Sky and comes from the sky in order to save lives.” She paused. “Do you understand?”
“Oh, yes, I understand. You want to be one of the Ministers yourself — you offer sex to this Shadow Walker in order to get the gold that should be mine!”
Shadow Walker scrunched up his face. “Eagle Eyes is my friend. We are both with someone else. This is about saving lives, not divvying up gold. I need Ministers who want to save lives, not Ministers who wish to make their own purse heavy with gold!”
“In that case, the Z-Lotz deserve a better King. As is our way, anyone who kills you deserves to be King. Dictard drew a strange small twisted scrap of metal out of his pocket and pointed the tip toward Shadow Walker. Eagle Eyes saw that this scrap of metal had parts much like the Killing Stick of NUT-PI and instantly grabbed hold of the arm of Dictard Bennoli. She pushed his hand down and bent his wrist painfully. Just before he was forced to drop his tiny Killing Stick, he managed to pull the trigger. A loud bang startled everyone and the crowd turned back. A high pitched scream rent the air. It sounded much like the call of a eagle, but much louder. Dictard lie writhing on the ground holding the remains of his shattered knee with both hands.
Eagle Eyes and Shadow Walker exchanged glances. She spoke again in her loud, clear voice. “You heard that! It was the sound of one whose heart is filled with treachery. He pretended to want to help. He came to kill our new King, Shadow Walker. He now lies on the ground with a shattered knee. If anyone else wishes to vanquish our King, I urge you to be brave enough to challenge him openly; not to try to kill with concealed and dishonorable weapons. Are there any? Any challengers? No? Good. Now, let us work together to kill our real enemy! Let us kill these deadly and poisonous spiders.”
Eagle Eyes and Shadow Walker spent the rest of the day finding from among the Z-Lotz and ROI, three Ministers who seemed to understand that they were servants of their people. They felt proud to help solve the problem of this red death, not to use the occasion to line their own pockets with gold.
Eagle Eyes could make neater, smaller lines than Shadow Walker. After allowing the well-trained eagle to feast a bit on the flesh of NUT-PI, she made a short note and attached it to the Eagle’s leg and set it free, hoping the eagle would take the note back to the Center Place of the Veritas where it could be seen by Many Paths and Trunk of Tree, among others. She had no assurance that the eagle would do as she had asked, but at least it took off in the right direction. She had written in the note that she and Shadow Walker might be required to stay for a time. She had saved Shadow Walker’s life. Feelings that she thought were reserved for Trunk of Tree somehow arose in her. And, these feelings were aimed at Shadow Walker who was betrothed to her dearest friend, Many Paths. She wondered whether he felt the same. She sighed. First things first. And the first thing was to save lives.
Shadow Walker couldn’t understand where the bright light was. It seemed to be everywhere and nowhere. The noise overwhelmed him, seemed to jar his bones and make his teeth chatter.Breathe, he told himself. Breathe. Disgusting. Sour. Rotten. He was spinning. The bright lights changed to blue and then red and back to blue. “I can’t think straight,” he mumbled aloud. Shadow Walker slowed his breathing. The word “inventory” came to mind. He slowly and carefully took stock of his body, part by part. It was all there; sore, but no broken bones. He moved his hand to his head. Apparently, a tree burl had grown on his head. But that cannot be, he thought. I must have fallen. I’m in a hole. He blinked and listened to the roar.
Not a roar. Those are voices. Whose voices? Many voices. They were speaking gibberish. Gibberish he had heard before. ROI and Z-Lotz. Why were people speaking those languages? A picture came to mind — a beautiful young woman bathing. Then, she was speaking. They were pointing to some vines high up in a tree. Another image: crawling through the grass. He drew close to the beautiful woman. Her scent was nice. Not like now. Who was she? She was not the only woman though. There was another. If only the pain were less, I could think better.
The light at least had grown dimmer. He could now make out mountains and in this vast landscape, no plants grew. He closed his eyes and saw the image of another beautiful woman with eyes like those of a cougar. He mumbled aloud, “I wish Cougar Eyes were here. She could translate this sea of words into something I could understand. Where the hell am I?”
He stared back onto the giant landscape. Something was very wrong with it. He blinked a few times and suddenly realized that he was not staring at a giant landscape at all. He stared at a dirt floor a few inches in front of his face. He was lying on his side. He tilted his head to take in the room.
I am in a prison, he thought. Butwhy? He pushed himself up to a sitting position. A single shaft of sunlight struck the floor near where he had just been lying. He closed his eyes and nearly fainted. He sat alone on one side of this prison room, he realized. The other three sides showed a few dozen others hunched against the other three sides. They reacted to him — his sitting up — by pointing and jabbering — but he only caught an occasional word that made any sense: “death” “NUT-PI” “ceremony” “yesterday” or “tomorrow” — he couldn’t be sure which. Again he said and said aloud, “If only Cougar Eyes were here.” Across the room, a thin, frail, long-bearded man arose and hobbled toward him slowly. He stood directly in front of Shadow Walker and then awkwardly sat down in front of him and began speaking — in Veritas!
“Excuse me, Sir. My name is Tree Vines. Did you say ‘Cougar Eyes’ just now?”
“Tree Vines! You speak Veritas!”
“I do. Yes. I am Veritas. But I don’t recognize you. I suppose you have grown quite a bit since I last saw you. But did you say ‘Cougar Eyes.’?”
“Yes. I don’t recognize you either. I am Shadow Walker. Cougar… that’s not right. Tiger Eyes. No. Something. Her name escapes me. I have been struck hard on the head. I don’t know how I got here. Where are we?”
“You are in a place called Hopeless because all who come here, die here, or — or out in the public square. NUT-PI mostly lets us die of slow starvation, but sometimes, he likes to put on a show. I am afraid that is likely your fate. According to what I overheard from the guards, you came here two days ago with a woman. Was this woman by any chance called ‘Cat Eyes’?”
“Cat Eyes! Yes. No. I mean, I do know a woman named Cat Eyes. But that is not the woman I came here with. She’s — her name is — also something to do with cats or eyes or fish. But no. Cat Eyes — not Cougar Eyes — she — I found her in the village of the ROI. Like you, she speaks Veritas, but she also — but I cannot recall how I came to be here. I cannot…my mind is not working properly. I’m sorry. But you speak Veritas. Yet, I don’t recognize you.”
“Nor do I recognize you. Though I have been among the Z-Lotz for a long time now. I set out long ago on a journey to find my daughter, Cat Eyes, and was captured and used as a slave here in their city. My master became deathly ill ….”
Shadow Walker interrupted, “What? Wait. Cat Eyes is your daughter?”
“Yes. Yes. Her irises are shaped like those of a cat. And you know her? Is she well?”
“Tree Vines, the last time I saw her, she was well. She led … several of my tribe went to try to reach the Veritas beyond the Twin Peaks. She went with them. She said that’s where she was from.”
“That’s right! But how — I don’t think they could get there. She was stolen from us when she was young. She was taken by these people who rob parents. My wife and I set out to follow the trail and try to find her. Several of our tribe accompanied us. But we came to a sheer cliff. No-one could find a way in or around. The others turned back, convinced there was no way over the mountain. My wife and I stayed and at last, a huge hole appeared in the side of the mountain itself…a kind of giant door. We could see nothing but we were desperate and slowly approached this hole hoping it might lead to her. Before our eyes had adjusted to the strange dim light inside, a troop of horsemen came riding out. They struck us with clubs and I woke up in the City of the Z-Lotz. I was chained and beaten and made to understand that I was their slave. They made me change my name to Tree Vines to make fun of my thin muscular limbs. I used to called “Of The Night” but I seldom think of that now. I was never allowed outside my master’s house. I am not sure whether my wife…sometimes other slaves came and I tried to ask about my wife, but we could never talk long. I gave up on life. I poisoned my master, not to kill, but to make him ill, and they found out or rather guessed — and put me in here. But only the ROI and the Z-Lotz know the secret of the giant hole in the mountain. I don’t think she could get through. But why are you here?”
“Tree Vines, it is good to hear someone speak Veritas again. And, hearing your words has helped me recall some things, but I am still not — I don’t know why I am here or — we came — there is something here that we need. I came with — a different woman because she was here before and she sees — yes! She is called ‘Eagle Eyes.’ She can see really well. But not well enough to keep us from being captured — or killed.”
“I’m sorry to say so, Shadow Walker, but they are going to kill you. By the light on the floor, I see it is nigh on to the Summer Solstice and they have … festivities planned … in fact, I would do the mercy of killing you, but we must find a way to kill each other or they will have me take your place. They make everyone — even the slaves and prisoners — go and watch the torture death. It would be better to die here.” Tree Vines, shook his head slowly from side to side. “It’s very bad. I’m sorry.”
“Everyone dies eventually. But I am going to kill as many as I can. Meanwhile, tell me as much as you can about this ceremonial death so I can find my best chance of escape, Tree Vines. Or, would you rather I call you Of The Night?”
Tree Vines sighed. “No, that name will just confuse me. Call me Tree Vines. I will tell you of the killing rituals, but what else can you say about my daughter? Please. Tell me. What sort of person is she?”
“Your daughter is strong, beautiful, and very smart. I will give you the short version and if fortune looks favorably on us, I will tell you all you want to know later.”
“Fair enough, Shadow Walker, but — this prison is called ‘Hopeless’ for a reason. NUT-PI uses a special rod to wound people and torture them. No-one has ever come close to escaping.”
“Killing sticks! Yes! That is why we came here. To find out more about them and possibly steal one. My young brother in law, Tu-Swift, was also taken by the People Who Steal Children. We followed the trail and eventually I found him. He was living as a slave among the ROI and they were using him to train horses. We escaped with Tu-Swift, but the ROI followed us and used fire arrows to attack us, but the fire spread by the wind back to their own village and burned it to the ground. Most of them abandoned the wreckage of that village. But beneath the burned armory, we found a wounded ROI man named Jaccim. Your daughter was tending to him. She is a very good and kind person. And, as I said, very smart. She helped Tu-Swift learn to decode markings so that messages may be sent without the sender of the message being present.”
“So, Cat Eyes was not hurt or injured or tortured?”
Shadow Walker sighed. “The ROI…the Z-Lotz…I don’t know for certain. She looks to be unhurt on the outside. But her heart — that I cannot say. She avoids talking much about her time in captivity. But she was very excited to learn that Jaccim knew a way through the mountains. And, we sent a small party to try to connect with the Veritas who live beyond the Twin Peaks.”
Tree Vines chewed nervously on his lips. “You let her go with one of the people who robs parents–who steals childen?”
“Jaccim actually seems like a decent person. Your daughter cared for him and I brought him medicine. And, he spent a fair amount of time with us. Tu-Swift vouches for him. What we discovered — actually mostly Cat Eyes — is that the ROI do not seem to even question what they are asked to do. If it’s effective and efficient, they are happy even if it something like stealing children. I don’t think on his own, he is likely to do bad things. Anyway, it wasn’t just the two of them. One of our strongest warriors, Trunk of Tree went as well as Fleet of Foot and two of our friends from the Nomads of the South. Your daughter is very resourceful. She spoke once of poisoning her captors as well. But she didn’t get caught.”
Here, Shadow Walker tried carefully to study the face of Tree Vines to see whether he regarded this as a reproach since he had been caught. There was a frown, but Shadow Walker didn’t think it was from reproach.
“I am — I am glad to know she is alive. But now, I am worried all over again. You let her go with one from among The People Who Steal Children, as you call them. She is still a child herself. She — you have no idea how she is. And, now, it seems unlikely either of us will ever find out.”
Now, Shadow Walker frowned. “Your daughter is very much a young woman now. She definitely has a mind of her own. She insisted that she wanted to go. We dialogued about the pros and cons, but all of us, most especially your daughter insisted on going — she mainly wanted to see you — and her mother. But what do you mean, none of us will ever know?”
“Shadow Walker of the Veritas Center Place, there is a reason that this prison is called Hopeless. No-one can escape.”
“Tree Vines of the Veritas Beyond the Twin Peaks, I know well why they call the prison Hopeless. It is precisely so no-one will even try to escape. It is a label they chose. They mean to demoralize us. We will find a way out and you, I believe, will yet be reunited with your daughter. She is very resourceful. I told you she helped Tu-Swift decode the marks of the Z-Lotz.”
Tree Vines tilted his head and tightened his lips. “You mentioned these marks before. Do you remember what any of them look like? I wonder…. No, it couldn’t be.”
“Oh, I remember them all! Once Tu-Swift realized that each mark is like a stick figure drawing of someone making a sign, you see, and then your daughter and Tu-Swift together realized that each mark was only the initial sound of the word that the hand signs signify, we were able to decode the entire birchbark collection that Eagle Eyes … managed to take from here.”
“Did my daughter, Cat Eyes, ever mention the work of the Veritas beyond the Twin Peaks to understand the ancient artifacts we discovered?”
“No. No. Not that I recall.”
Shadow Walker glanced around the prison. He noted that none of the others were talking. Each seemed to be cocooned in their own private prison of hopelessness, they all sat, backs to the wall, arms wrapped around their knees, heads down. Perhaps they had sent their souls into another place since this one was so … filled with death. Each of them sees the others act hopeless so they do too. It’s perpetuated from one prisoner to the next. The name — hopelessness — and the expectation — those are better guards, I think, than any of the human ones out there.
“Listen.” Shadow Walker drew closer and began whispering. “I intend to break out of this prison. But I may need the help of others. Do you know which of these men is to be trusted? Is it possible there is a spy?”
Tree Vines inhaled deeply. He had become inured to the stench. “People in here don’t talk much. I’m not sure I’d really trust any of them. On the one hand, they are probably not great fans of NUT-PI. After all, they’re in prison. On the other hand, if they heard of your plans they might inform the guards in the hope of securing better treatment. That’s how NUT-PI operates. He betrays everyone but has everyone believing that they will he lucky exception. Anyway, plans are hopeless. You only have a day — perhaps two — before they will use you for entertainment.”
“What sort of — entertainment?”
Tree Vines drew still closer. “Are you sure you want to know?”
Shadow Walker, despite his body still being wracked with pain, felt a small smile on the right side of his mouth. “Oh, yes. I definitely want to know.”
Tree Vines said, “If you want my advice, spend your last days thinking of something good, not dwelling on the horror that lies ahead.”
Shadow Walker’s smile spread. “I assure you that I will spend very little time dreading. I will spend my time planning, imagining, trying alternatives, imagining consequences, imagining alternative consequences, like a tree growing limbs from trunk, and twigs from limbs and leaves from twigs. I will find a way out as surely as I found a way in.” Shadow Walker paused for a moment and then looked into the eyes of the other man. “And you are coming with us.”
“You really think you can do it?”
“Either that or die trying. I’m not going to spend my days … underground. Now, tell me about how they imagine that they will use my death to provide entertainment?”
“All right. Well, the first thing is that it is always different. But variations on a theme. There will be some sort of sexual perversion involved. You can count on that. And there will be a lot of pain involved. And, the audience of — well, different people are in different positions but everyone is there — even the prisoners. It is our only entertainment — and — you will think me sick — a despicable man — but we all cheer, even though the person being tortured to death is one of us. Crazy when you think about it.”
“Okay, thank you Tree Vines. But I need you to be much, much more specific. What weapons of torture? Where is the person relative to the audience. Where are the prisoners?I realize it may all be different, but there will be patterns and if I can understand those patterns, I can see the weaknesses, the cracks in those patterns, that will always be there regardless of specifics. I already know what some of the cracks are because they are flaws of NUT-PI himself and will always limit his thinking. For instance, he is a colossal coward. And, he assumes (without knowing that he does so) that everyone else is the same. So that colors his predictions. He rules largely through other cowards because he can use fear to manipulate them. But it also means that very few, if any, are truly loyal to him. Even if there are such people, he will never be able to trust anyone. He will not be able to tell who are the few who truly want what he wants or think he is a god from those who will simply act that way to curry temporary favor or avoid punishment. These are general patterns of weakness, but there are many more for a system such as NUT-PI and the Z-Lotz have set up. But I also need to understand their cruelty in great detail so I can see the weakness patterns there as well.”
Tree Vines had a grim look on his face. It was painful to reveal some of the many possible tortures, but guilt tripled his pain. He along with all his fellow prisoners had cheered and he kept asking himself why. “All right, Shadow Walker. First of all, they always have the person restrained in some way. Perhaps his hands will be tied behind his back. Perhaps he’ll be suspended from a pole. Perhaps he’ll have one leg in a chain with a heavy ball attached.”
Tree Vines paused. “Do you want me to go on?”
“Yes. But take yourself back. Instead of saying, ‘sometimes this, sometimes that’ tell me of one particular torture from beginning to end; everything you saw, you heard, you smelled, you felt. Everything. Just like I was watching right beside you.”
Tree Vines paused. He actually found himself smiling. He had been taught this skill at a young age, but he hadn’t used it in years. For the first time in an endless string of gray days in Hopeless Prison, Tree Vines felt hope.Perhaps, he thought, I should return to calling myself “Of the Night.”
When at last, the final stone was atop the last of the four funeral cairns for the four Z-Lotz visitors, Eagle Eyes and Shadow Walker bathed in the stream and scoured themselves by crushing and using horsetails that grew so handily nearby. The cold water felt good on their hands which were rubbed rather raw by carrying so many rocks.
Shadow Walker took a deep breath and sighed. He glanced over at Eagle Eyes who sunned herself, eyes closed, with her back against a sun-warmed boulder. He realized that he would have to look away while speaking with her. He swallowed hard. Looking away proved more difficult than he had imagined. He wondered again whether they should have taken the clothes of the Z-Lotz and used them as disguise. Once they moved away from the “burials” it would be even more of a pain to return and take the clothing. He glanced at Eagle Eyes again, wishing she would open her eyes. Did she really need to dry her eyelids he wondered. That’s absurd. He was just annoyed at his own reaction. It was only a short time ago that he had been with Many Paths. Eagle Eyes was both a good friend and a valuable resource in this — war — or whatever it was — against the Z-Lotz. Had they intentionally come while they were sick in order to spread this disease to the Veritas? All four of the Z-Lotz had now died so there were none left to question.
Eagle Eyes opened her eyes, glanced at Shadow Walker and chuckled. “Time to get dressed, I see!” She grabbed her tunic and covered herself quickly.
Shadow Walker reddened and did the same. “Yes, I was just thinking that we should get going to continue our journey.”
“I can see that,” said Eagle Eyes whose eyes flashed with humor. “Yes, that’s what you were definitely thinking about.”
“I just…I mean,” he said, dressing as quickly as possible, “yes, there is no more trail back to follow, but they seem to have taken the same path to get to the Veritas. Now, that path is older but they are still not skilled at hiding their trail. Perhaps we can still find and follow the older trail.”
“Four men walking. No sign of recent horses. Yes, four men — that should be an easy trail to follow.” She smiled at Shadow Walker.
“What do you mean about four men? Do you think four women would be harder to track?”
“Just a joke. I don’t really know all that much, but this trail is just as obvious as the first one I tried to follow. That time, we said that perhaps it’s because they’re on horses so they feel protected by their speed. And, it must be more difficult to hide horse hooves. But this time, there were no horses. I just don’t think it’s a skill they care much about. I have a feeling…an inkling…that we are nearby to something I will recognize. As I mentioned, Shadow, the Z-Lotz City is larger than you can imagine. I’m not really sure how many people go in and out of the city, but I think quite a few. If our four — visitors — came on an errand to — to summon — as it seems — Many Paths to their city, it was no secret. They may have come by a very busy path — at least busy once we get much closer.”
The walked along in silence for a time. Eagle Eyes finally continued, “Let’s go over to that knoll. Okay? I think I might recognize things from there.”
“Yes. Okay. By the way, I feel so much better after bathing. I think they had an illness that spreads easily among people — much like the mold that grows on old food. Do you also feel cleaner, Eagle Eyes?”
“Oh, definitely. Apart from the eye-prints of course.” She stared at Shadow Walker.
He stared back at her, frowned, and wondered what on earth she meant about eye-prints. Then, it hit him. “Oh! Sorry. I was busy bathing and looked up. And, there you were. I…” Both of them looked up at the screeching sound of Eagles soaring in the distance.
Shadow Walker smiled. “They are beautiful. Do you like being named after eagles?”
“Oh, I like eagles! Yes. I may be named after them, but I am convinced their eyes are sharper than mine! I wonder how the training of the Eagles is coming. I cannot tell whether those are the eagles who have become our brothers and sisters. I wonder whether they can tell who we are at this distance. Maybe they can lead the way.” Eagle Eyes chuckled to herself.
Shadow Walker saw them careen away into dots and disappear. He turned back to Eagle Eyes and asked, “What about this knoll?”
Eagle Eyes pursed her lips and looked around in every direction. She looked at the peaks of the distant mountains. She sat in a meditative pose and closed her eyes.
Eagle Eyes shook her head and put her finger to her lips. She brought herself back mentally to the time she and Lion Slayer had journeyed home. Shadow Walker had no idea how long she might stay in this state, so he sat upon the ground and began reviewing all the things he had observed about the ROI and what Tu-Swift had said about them.
After a few moments, Eagle Eyes stood and smiled at Shadow Walker. “Found it! I think we just need to go over that ridge and I’ll be able to retrace the way that Lion Slayer & I used to leave the Z-Lotz. We should go that way — many fewer people.”
She sprang to her feet and put both her hands out to Shadow Walker. “Let’s go! You should follow me.”
Unlike Lion Slayer, Shadow Walker immediately realized this was the wise course.
Eagle Eyes turned back, drew close to Shadow Walker and whispered, “We are still a ways away, but I think we should whisper from now on.”
They walked on in silence till they got near the brow of the next hill. Eagle Eyes knelt down and, without looking back, gestured for Shadow Walker to do the same. He listened for and felt the wind caressing the tall grass around him. He only moved when the wind moved. The day still lay hot on the hills but small white clouds zoomed across the sky and each time they went from shadow to light or vice versa, a breeze came with the movement. This would make it harder for them to be seen.
Cat Eyes felt him draw near and when his ear was close she softly whispered into it, “If I’m right, just as soon as I come to the crest of this hill, I should know exactly which way to go. Before when Lion Slayer and I came, they were pre-occupied with the ROI and fresh news and now they may be more careful with their guards. Though it’s hard to predict the Z-Lotz.”
Lying in the grass this close to Cat Eyes with the wind shifting this way and that, Shadow Walker could not help but notice how nice her sweat smelled. That reminded him of Many Paths and he slipped his hand into his pocket and took out one of the Rings of Empathy. He held it in his hand and, as usual, felt somehow more connected to Many Paths. He knew it was just an odd feeling but somehow, he felt Many Paths was not … not right … something was wrong. Maybe, he thought, I’m just feeling a bit guilty about being attracted to Cat Eyes. Or, maybe, I’m just feeling anxious about the proximity to the Z-Lotz and the Killing Sticks.
He wasn’t sure whether he should share his odd feelings with Cat Eyes or not. He wasn’t even sure he could put what he was feeling into words.
“Cat Eyes,” he whispered. “Do you see anyone?”
“No, but let’s wait another few minutes before we go to the top. We will see better there but also be seen more easily. I don’t see any cover at the top of the hill.”
“All right. It occurs to me, Cat Eyes, that we may become ill with that strange red sore illness that struck down the emissaries that came to visit us. Or, the people at our Center Place may also get ill. We should take that into account in our planning. We don’t want to fall ill and unable to run or fight inside the walls of the City of the Z-Lotz.”
“Good point. They became very ill indeed. It would be nice to steal a Killing Stick if we possibly can, but if either of us starts to feel ill, maybe we need to leave immediately.”
Shadow Walker chewed on his lip for a moment trying to think. “Yes, perhaps, Cat Eyes. I’d hate to return empty-handed. But the people we saw…they were all fine just a few days earlier. Or, at least, I didn’t notice anything to make me think they were sick.”
“Nor I, Shadow Walker.” Cat Eyes added, “I know where we are now for certain. I was right. I think we are safe to go down this hill and into that grove of trees. We can wait there till after sunset. Then, we can go in by the small door I found, assuming it is still unlocked.”
They took turns keeping watch but neither heard nor saw anyone. After the last threads of sunset had faded and long before the crescent moon rose, Cat Eyes crouched down and carefully walked up to the edge of the tall grass. Closer to the walls, the grass was somewhat trampled down, but far less so that she remembered. She saw no sentries; she heard no sentries. She got down on all fours and waited till the wind stirred. Then, she began crawling toward the postern gate with Shadow Walker close behind.
When she arrived, Cat Eyes stood up slowly and tried the door. It moved a fraction of an inch. She put her ear to the crack and heard no-one near. In the distance, she heard a baby crying; apparently, the parents were unable to console it, for the distant crying continued. She heard nothing else. But the stench of the city was considerable. She hadn’t noticed that the last time. Maybe just the wind direction, she mused. She knew that small doors could make large noises so she patiently applied more and more pressure until the door opened another tiny fraction. If she hurried too much, it could move suddenly and make a loud scraping noise or creak on its hinges. The door seemed much harder to open than she remembered, but all appeared well. The door opened two inches, then three. Soon, a four inch gap opened. But she could move it no farther. Shadow Walker stood beside her and, hearing no-one on the other side, they both pushed. Nothing. She pulled the door back and tried opening it a little faster. The door opened easily but only for a few inches. They tried to crane their neck to see inside but to no avail.
Eagle Eyes and Shadow Walker felt the nearby wall but it was far too smooth to climb. Eagle Eyes put her hand behind Shadow Walker’s head and bent his ear down toward her lips. He listened to her suggestion and nodded silently. He got to his hands and knees.
Soon, Eagle Eyes was standing atop his broad shoulders peering over the top of the wall. She neither heard nor saw anyone. From here she could hear the sounds of people snoring. The baby still cried. But she heard no-one walking; she saw no one out and about so she swung her leg up and dropped down noiselessly on the other side. She saw that a large pottery urn had kept the gate from opening when they tried earlier. She pushed, but it did not move. She came to the gap and whispered to Shadow Walker. She lay on the ground bracing her back painfully against the door jamb and pushed with her feet while Shadow Walker put his shoulder to the door. They managed to move the pot a few more inches and then a few more. Finally, the gap was large enough for Shadow Walker to wriggle his flesh through the tight narrow opening.
Eagle Eyes looked back at the gate. It stood ajar. She glanced at Shadow Walker who nodded and closed the gate. For a terrible moment, she was afraid the gate would latch closed and if it locked, they would be trapped inside, or at least one of them would. Then, she saw that they would be able to scale the wall by using the very pot that had proved an impediment to getting in. Would anyone notice that they had moved the urn? She doubted it. They walked into a narrow passageway that went behind the place where she had witnessed the Killing Stick used by NUT-PI. She noticed that one side of that passageway was now filled with books. Perhaps it had been before. She hadn’t known what they were and she likely simply had not noticed them. Shadow Walker picked two of these strange objects and put them into his pack.
At the other end of this passageway was another door. It was locked. Since it seemed that everyone was asleep, as per plan, they quickly began searching quietly for some killing sticks. Shadow Walker saw a low building a short distance away that reminded him of the place the ROI had been keeping weapons. He gestured toward it and they began edging their way around a large courtyard toward it.
At last they arrived at the door. It opened easily. She slowly opened it, being careful not to make any noise. She heard a dull thud behind her. She turned to see Shadow Walker falling sideways among three armed warriors. Then, she felt her own arms being pinned behind her. She struggled mightily but to no avail. The world then went gray for her.
