Reading the Wind (Silver Ship) (2 page)

Twintrees and lace maples and redberry bushes lined the path, reaching new spring branches across, trying, as always, to reclaim any part of Fremont we humans struggled to tame. Night birds twittered and called to each other.

Kayleen still lived with Paloma in one of the four-houses a block away from Commons Park. When I knocked on their door, Paloma opened it, smelling of spring mint and redberry. “Chelo and Liam! Come in. How are you?”

“We’re fine,” Liam said.

Standing in her doorway, I remembered a hundred times I’d stood here before, starting when I could barely reach the knob. This close, streaks of gray showed in her blond hair and wrinkles blossomed like flowers around her blue eyes. “Is Kayleen here?”

She shook her head. “Almost never.”

“Are you all right?” I asked.

She shook her head again, short and sharp, then smiled and said, “Sure. Will you come in for tea?”

I wanted to stay and talk to her. But finding Kayleen was more important. “Do you have any idea where she is?”

“She’s probably down by the hebra barns—she has a young one she’s taken a fancy to, and spends much of her time there.” Paloma twisted her hands together. “She goes out after work every night, and only comes home to sleep. I don’t even know what or when she eats any more.”

I winced. “I’m sorry.”

Paloma sighed and took my hand. “The nets work well right now. We’ve asked less and less of her. Even Nava leaves her alone some days. Kayleen’s been helping Gianna with the satellite data, and she identified the tracks of the last three good-sized meteors almost perfectly. Gianna is almost the only one she talks to anymore.” Her voice dropped lower. “I’m sure she misses you.”

Even though there was nothing accusing in her tone, guilt tugged at me. I looked up at Liam. “Maybe we should stay in town next winter.”

Liam turned to Paloma, his voice apologetic. “We can’t stay now. The band needs us the most in summer.”

“She would like to see you more.” Paloma paused. “Me, too. You can stay here if you like. I… I’d like your opinion about Kayleen.”

“We’re leaving tomorrow. We have to go; surely you understand.” I glanced down at my chrono. “We should get to the barn.”

Paloma smiled. “I know. Look, I’ll talk to Nava and see if Kayleen can come visit you for a while this summer. Is that okay with you?”

“Of course.” I returned her smile and touched her hand. Small comfort, but all I could offer. “What about this baby hebra she’s adopted?”

Paloma smiled again, as if she, too, were enamored of the little beast. “She has. A young one with the prettiest green highlights in her brown striping when the sun shines on it. Kayleen’s training her. She already follows Kayleen around the pasture, and she’ll be ready to ride by midsummer. She named her Windy.”

I smiled, picturing Kayleen with the young hebra. “I hope I meet Windy.”

Liam held Paloma for a moment, kissing the top of her head, and then I embraced her. Her head came to my shoulder, and for the first time ever it struck me that I could protect and help her more than she
could protect and help me. “I hope everything works out all right,” I murmured.

Part way down the street, I turned to look back. Paloma stood in the door, watching. She gave us a little wave.

I held my precious sun-fed flashlight, but left it off to protect my night vision as we jogged down to the barns. Even though warm night air tickled my skin, the winter had been harsh and long, and only about half of the fields had been planted so far. We passed a few people heading home from late-night chores, exchanging polite half-waves. Already, town life seemed small.

As we neared the barns, Stripes called out a greeting to me, and two or three other hebras whickered. Their tall graceful forms made black silhouettes outlined by the soft light from the barns. Their heads swiveled toward me. I went to Stripes and buried my face in her neck fur. She’d been in the common herd once, but Akashi had bought her for me the first spring after I joined the band. As he’d offered her lead to me, his eyes had twinkled with joy. “You need someone you know you can count on.”

I’d cried.

I breathed in Stripes’s dusty barn smell. “We’ll leave tomorrow,” I whispered into the long ear she swiveled down toward me.

As if in response, she dropped her big head over my shoulder, nearly an embrace. Her hot breath trickled along the back of my neck.

I pushed away gently and looked around. I didn’t see Kayleen, or any other human movement. “I don’t think she’s here,” I whispered.

Liam called out, “Kayleen!”

No response.

Low evening lights made circles on the rush floor in the long, tall barn. The hebras each came up to be greeted, turning their long ears toward us and asking silent questions with their wide, intelligent eyes. Two or three of the females had spindly-legged spring babies beside them, but I couldn’t tell if one might be Windy. They were all beautiful.

Kayleen was not with any of them.

At the end of the aisle, I called again, “Kayleen, are you here?”

Still no answer.

We stepped out the back door into the big practice ring, and I called a third time. “Kayleen?”

Liam stepped out into the corral, and leaned against the metal bars of the big practice ring. “I don’t see any sign of her.”

A single light bolted high on the outside of the wooden barn illuminated his face and shone on his blond hair.

I walked over near him, and clambered up on the bars, sitting on the top one. It made me taller than him by almost a meter. “Do you remember last fall, when I told you Kayleen seemed so lost—somewhere—that I could barely get her attention?”

He reached a hand up and set it over mine where it clung to the bar. “Yes, I remember.”

“I’m scared for her. Maybe, like Joseph, she’s become too different.”

“Have you talked to Gianna?” he asked.

“Not this trip, not enough to ask about Kayleen. Besides, Gianna is so much older. It’s not the same as having friends.” A brief shock of bitterness crossed my heart. “And you know who’s here. Garmin and most of the other people our age haven’t changed, so there’s no reason to think they’re kind to Kayleen.”

“I know.” Liam hopped up next to me on the bars. “But it’s not like the East Band loves us. Surely some of how she’s treated is up to her. If she’s distant with us, imagine how she must be with everyone else.”

I moved closer to him, brushing thighs. “I’d still like to help her if I can. I think… maybe she’s living too much in the nets and not enough in the real world.”

“Maybe.”

His profile in the half light swelled my chest. Simply looking at him made me feel I could float from the bars and land on the barn roof. “Being with us in the wild, she wouldn’t be in the nets so much. You have to pay attention out there.”

Liam sighed. “Well, I wonder if she’s focused enough for that? I wouldn’t trust her to travel by herself. Someone would have to come back for her, and we’ll be way out by Rage Mountain this summer. It would be too hard.”

I nodded. “I should be able to help her. She and I used to be so close.…”

“She has to let you help her.” He reached an arm over my shoulder
and pulled me close, unbalancing us a little so I gripped the rail harder. “You can’t solve every problem.”

I never could. It had always taken us all. I missed Jenna’s watchful eye and weird way of helping us learn, and I missed Bryan’s silent strength. I even missed willful and lost Alicia with all of her pain and anger. Most of all, I missed Joseph. He’d be able to help Kayleen in ways I couldn’t—he, too, rode the wind. And more. He flew space ships. Where was he, and how different from me had he yet become?

Liam must have felt my need, because he held me close and began to hum softly, a sweet song of summer fields. I looked up at a sky full of stars gathered around Faith and Summer. I searched for a third moon, which would have been a sign of good luck, but didn’t find one.

The barn light switched off.

“Why did the light go off?” Liam asked.

“Because I couldn’t stand to watch you two anymore,” Kayleen said. “Because I’m crazy and I do crazy things. Because I live too much in the nets and not enough in the real world.” A pause. Her voice, ripped with pain, floating down from the top of the barn. “I can’t be trusted to travel by myself.”

I sat up. How much had she heard? “Kayleen?”

She didn’t answer.

I turned on my flashlight and shone it upward, looking for her. We called her name, and Liam took my light and scrambled up onto the roof. After a while, he called, “She’s not here.”

He climbed back down and stood a little distance from me, his arms by his sides, the closeness between us turned awkward by her sudden absent presence. She was fast—if she wanted to ditch us here in the dark, in her place, she could. I looked up at where the light had been, and spoke, hoping she was still close enough to hear me. “Kayleen. We’re just worried about you. I miss you.”

The hebras stamped quietly in their stalls and a cool wind blew softly through the rafters.

Liam added, “Come out. So we can talk.”

We waited, still standing a little apart, listening carefully for any
sound that might be our friend, our sister. Twenty minutes passed, in which we said nothing, afraid she would hear, or that she wouldn’t hear.

We walked back, side by side, not touching, not saying anything.

T
he next day dawned clear and bright, with no sign of clouds. The clatter and calls of the East Band’s departure made a chaotic background to the relative routine of readying my little home. I looked out the window every few minutes, hoping for a sign of Kayleen in the chaos of comings and goings. I watched for her as I fetched Stripes from the barn and rode her back to the wagons, as I tied her into her harness, and checked the long-rein I would use to guide her.

Stripes shifted in her traces, her head twisting sideways to watch me, her flanks quivering. She had been trained as a riding beast, and a slight sense of disapproval lingered in her eyes as I tightened her chest-band.

The wagons began to line up. I spotted Sasha, her younger brothers, and her mother and father in the lead. The single white streak in Sasha’s long dark hair made a distinctive mark against the dark green lead wagon. I waited my turn, watching them start off, a ragged line neatening behind them as they headed for the High Road. Wagon wheels creaked and hebras called to each other. Goats bleated.

At least half of Artistos had turned out for our departure. Children clutched parents’ hands or pointed at the various bright and noisy bits of the wagon train. Joseph and I used to do the same, clutching Steven and Therese while watching the long line of roamers snake away up the hill, wanting to go with them to find adventure. Some
hot summer afternoons we pretended to be roamers running from paw-cats or climbing trees to catch new birds or animals.

A hand touched my elbow. “Chelo?”

I turned to find Paloma standing next to me. “Did you find her last night?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No. Not exactly.” I didn’t elaborate; I didn’t want to worry Paloma more than necessary. “Did she come home?”

Paloma’s eyes were filled with concern. “No. I hoped she’d be here—she’s always come to see you off before.”

Stripes stamped her feet and I reached a hand up to scratch her just behind her scraggly beard. “I know,” I said. “I’ve been watching for her.”

“I talked to Nava. She says Kayleen’s too valuable to risk in the wild.”

I didn’t quite keep the anger out of my voice. “You mean it’s possible Nava might lose control of her pet altered if she lets Kayleen spend time with us wild ones?”

Paloma grimaced. “Maybe.”

I glanced at the line. It was almost my turn. “Doesn’t Nava know Kayleen could escape if she wanted to?”

Paloma let out a short sharp laugh.

“Nava used fear to cage us, particularly Joseph. It didn’t work, so now she’s trying to make Kayleen too precious for her freedom. I rather expect this new tactic won’t work either. You might explain that to Nava.” I gave Stripes one last scratch and climbed up on the wide seat of my wagon.

Paloma shook her head. “Easier, maybe, to just convince her that the nets are working well enough to give Kayleen a vacation. Did you ask about staying next winter?”

I picked up the long-rein. “Akashi and Mayah were asleep when I got home.” I swept a hand toward the wagons still waiting, like me, to leave. “I’ve hardly seen them this morning.”

“But you will ask?”

“Of course.” I glanced up to find Liam, who Akashi had assigned to be ride boss for this first leg, astride Star, beckoning me to start off. At Star’s feet, a big-boned rangy red dog with white ears paced
just out of kicking range: Ritzi, the lead camp-dog. She gave me an even sterner look than Liam’s. I laughed at the dog, then looked back at Paloma. “Take care this summer. May your crops come in well.”

“May you find new treasures.” She reached a hand out to touch my thigh. “Thank you.”

I smiled at her and clucked at Stripes, starting us off. The wagon moved more easily now than it had on the way down.

Lighter wagons or not, the ride up started with a long hot pull in bright sunshine. Sweat trickled down Stripes’s flanks and dripped from my nose. The camp dogs followed us, running back and forth from the beginning of the line to the end. Ritzi led them, holding her white ears and white tail up as far as she could get them. Liam, too, rode up and down the line, checking on us all. The responsibility sat well on him, and he wore a serious smile whenever he reined Star up by my wagon and spoke to me.

After the first two hours, Liam called for a brief rest. He chose a spot known as View Bend, just below the rock fall remains we would soon thread through. He knew how hard the next part of the trail would be for me.

Tree-studded cliffs rose above and below us. Here, the trail was wide enough to take two or three wagons side by side. A thin strip of trees lined the stream near the cliff face, and the fresh scents of forest and new spring growth blew across the trail on a soft breeze. The older dogs flopped down to pant in the shade of the wagons, and the younger ones followed the midsized children as they ran off to fetch water from the stream for the hebras.