Doublesight (11 page)

Zimp stepped backward into the woods and almost fell over a fallen tree. She regained her balance as she watched the gory ceremony proceed, unable to take her eyes off Breel's movements.

Breel reached over the body to lay the heart on a stretch of clothing. She scooted around Fremlin's feet on her knees—a good choice, Zimp thought—and stopped next to her mother's body.

Brok followed her movements and never stopped chanting or shaking the staff. Therin crawled alongside his sister and sat beside her once again.

Breel used the knife to slit her mother's chest open and pull out the heart.

Zimp wondered if the crossed cuts Breel made in her mother's chest had any meaning, or were merely to make the job easier.

The two hearts sat together on the cloth. The ceremony was not repeated for the siblings.

Zimp watched as the hearts were placed side by side.

Breel stopped chanting.

Brok continued to chant at an increased volume as he threw the staff high into the air where it turned slowly above him and dropped back into his hands. His face twitched with pain, but he held fast.

Breel sliced through both hearts, creating three equally sized pieces of each mass. She separated the pairs then crouched close to the ground. Brok set the staff behind him on the ground and crouched down.

Zimp knew they would shift and was afraid of what they would surely do next.

As thylacines, the three stepped up to the cloth, sniffed, and reached out to eat their parents’ organs. When finished they stood back, heads arched toward the sky and whined. The sound dragged with it unexplainable sorrow and grief. The woods around them cracked with the pain. A small wind came up.

Zimp found herself crying without knowing why. Was it the horrific tradition she had witnessed, or the sorrow that reached inside her, that entered her soul with the sound the thylacines made? She
could not decipher or explain how she felt. Whatever the reason, she saw that Storret and Dail cried as well. She could not see Arren and wondered about his spirit. Did it go out to the thylacines? The crying filled her mouth with saliva and Zimp let it slip from her lips onto the ground. The feeling of her mouth filling again with moisture and the momentary thought of what just happened before her made her wish she could vomit. Why had she watched the ceremony through completion?

When Breel and Brok regained their human image, Breel ran to the side and threw up. The hearts would remain with the thylacine image. Only her breakfast came out.

Zimp envied Breel's ability to be disgusted by her own actions. It must have taken great control and power for Breel to remain in thylacine image throughout the ceremony.

Brok lifted the sacred staff and shook it and sang one of his chants. His face looked hard, like stone, and set with anger and fire behind his eyes. He walked back to the cabin and removed a long pouch from his pack. He slid the staff into the pouch and tied it at the top. He dragged both packs over to his sister and lifted one.

Breel wiped her mouth and slid her arms through the straps. Brok kissed her head, a moment of vulnerability and tenderness, and turned to go back through the woods.

“That was horrible and wonderful,” Storret said from behind Zimp.

She stopped and stared at him, but didn't speak for a long time. “We'd better follow them back. Someone needs to tend to Brok's shoulder.”

12

ZIMP HEARD THE GUARDS CAWING, and pushed past Brok and Breel on the path to run ahead. Therin took to her heels and followed her, which made Zimp kick up her pace. After what she had just seen him do, she felt less comfortable with him in their camp.

The clan scurried to get weapons and create a wall around the wagons. Zimp clasped the shoulder of the first person she ran into. Arealie was a distant cousin. She had a strong back and plain face. Reliable. Capable. “Take Brok to Oro. He's hurt.”

Arealie handed a short sword to Zimp and reached for Brok, who was emerging from the woods. The woman kept her eye on Therin, Zimp noticed, and appeared very reluctant to actually touch Brok, but she did it anyway. Zimp was surprised that he let Arealie help him when he held his sister at bay.

Breel followed close behind her brother until she reached Zimp. She stopped and asked, “How can I help?”

“Stay with your brother. He may need the comfort of his family,” Zimp said.

Breel glanced down at Therin. She looked around the camp at the crow clan. Another crow cawed a warning. “Forgive me. You are the host. But truthfully, I can outfight most of the men in this camp. My brother was not threatening you when he said that we could be dangerous. He was telling the truth.” Breel reached down to touch the hilt of her sword. The slender handle had been formed perfectly for her fingers, for her grip. The way she stroked it unsettled Zimp. Breel slipped the pack from her shoulder. “Have someone take my supplies.”

Zimp motioned and a young boy ran over and hefted Breel's pack into his arms and lumbered off toward the center of the camp.

“Therin,” Breel said, and her brother stepped to her side. “Let's go see who's coming.”

Zimp had the suspicion that the passion of the thylacine's ceremony still filled Breel's body with power. The young woman pulled her sword, intensely alert, unbelievably smooth, and undeniably strong. A worthy opponent, as Breel said, for any of the men in the crow clan. Zimp led.

Crepp met Zimp as she crossed through camp. “There are only a few of them, but they have armor. We're not sure what to think. There are several small ones with them, but that may be a ruse. They drag a two-wheeled cart that's making a lot of noise as though filled with metals.”

“Stand ready,” Zimp said, “and follow me.” She looked around for Arren, then closed her eyes for a moment to regain her own strength. She had to do this herself or she would let Oro down. Arren couldn't help her stand strong. He could only offer her a way to be weak. Regardless of that, she noticed Arren and Felter pass through the wall of crow clan to her right. Dail came through on her left. Storret and Crepp followed her. Breel and Therin were at her side. “Let's go,” Zimp said.

“Not far up this path,” Crepp told her.

About two hundred yards farther and Zimp, Breel, and Therin stopped. The others caught up.

A large, heavy-built older man held tight to long-poles attached to the cart Crepp had mentioned. Flanking him were two men, both rather thin and small, but wearing breastplates with the Flande Emblem of a blue, three-leafed clover. Two horizontal red lines were crudely painted beneath the clover.

What were Flandeans doing this deep into the Brendern Forest? Zimp stepped forward.

The big man set down the long-poles. Off the back of the cart two little boys hit the ground and ran around to see what was happening. “Hold it, boys,” the man on the left said.

Around the left rear of the cart stepped two other men in breastplates and two women, one of which bore the Flande breastplate
as well. The one wearing armor reached for the hands of the little boys, but only one relinquished and held to her. The other boy reached for the sword hand of one of the men, who seemed likely to be the boy's father.

Zimp noticed that the father took the boy's hand and she relaxed somewhat.

From the right rear of the cart walked another man in a breastplate and a woman, obviously pregnant.

“My lady,” the big man said. He bowed slightly and motioned behind him to the others. “We are traveling peacefully.”

“Then why the armor?” Arren said. Zimp turned toward him and set her jaw.

The big man looked from one to the other questioning who he should speak with. Arren's lips flattened and his eyes hardened, but he backed up two steps to allow Zimp space to address the travelers.

The big man must have understood the small conflict and held his empty hands up toward Zimp. “To answer the question, my lady. These woods have been wild with action these past months. We are with our families, and although we travel in peace, we must be cautious and ready to protect our loved ones. You would do the same, no?”

“And have you run into trouble?” Zimp said.

“Only once.”

“The poor bastards,” the man on the right said.

The big man turned his head slightly and the man behind him quieted.

Zimp recognized the tension in the family interactions, just as the big man must have seen it between she and Arren. A smile crossed her face for only a moment, but the Flande soldiers noticed and she saw their shoulders fall. The man on the left holding to his son shook the boy's hand.

“The name's Brull Willenstock,” the big man said. “My sons,” he pointed to the ones on the left first. “Raik,” he said of the man holding the boy's hand, “and Cis.” Both men nodded. “And here,” Brull turned, “are Galwit and Bennek.” He stopped. “And the women: Raik's wife Eena and my wonderful lady, Nebbie. With child is Bennek's bride Idune.” Brull smiled and said of the little boys, “The one holding tightly to his father is Ka, the other, Zip.”

Zimp went to one knee, set the point of her sword into the dirt, and bowed her head. She stood and placed her sword into its scabbard, motioned for the others to do the same. One at a time, she introduced her people and then the thylacine doublesight, without mentioning Therin, as though he were only a pet.

Ka turned to his brother and said, “Zip, I told you it was a girl's name.”

Raik bent down, “Shush. She said Zimp, not Zip.” He looked at his other son, the younger one holding to Eena. “Zip is a warrior's name,” he said, and the boy's face brightened.

Brull pointed at Therin. “Those are dangerous pets. Who might be the trainer?”

Zimp looked around. She wasn't sure it was wise to say just yet.

Idune, the pregnant woman, spoke out. “The brown-haired woman,” she said.

“Do you recognize her?” Zimp said, suspicious of the woman.

“The animal touched her leg with his muzzle and she didn't flinch,” Idune said.

Breel reached down and touched Therin's head.

“Very aware of your surroundings,” Zimp said.

Brull slapped his breastplate. “We are of the Flandean Guard. It is our duty to be aware of our surroundings.”

During the great wars when the doublesight fought along side the humans, Flande had a great army. The High Priest of Flande was a horse doublesight and hated war. He felt that the humans and doublesight should live together in peace. The Flande way of battle was to count coup rather than kill their opponent. That didn't mean that the Flande army didn't kill, only that it wasn't their first defense.

Zimp recalled Oro telling her how the army maintained the highest standards of training, even though The High Priest asked them not to fight to the death. And here were some of them begging peace. She accepted and believed Brull. “We are camped nearby, but will leave soon.”

“I don't think we'll bother you,” Brull said. He backed a few steps, lifted the long-poles, and began to pull the cart.

Zimp turned and waited for them to pass, then motioned for her clan to follow.

Arren stepped close to her, “What do you think?”

Zimp slowed and the others slowed with her. She squinted and focused around the bodies of the Flande group. Flashes of etheric bodies came into view, almost like an aura, shapeless but moving. Shivers ran up her spine. She focused from one to the other, but didn't receive the same sensation from each member of the party.

“What is it?” Arren must have noticed something odd.

“I don't know. Maybe,” she said.

“What?”

“They're true Flandeans,” she decided. “Some are human and some doublesight.”

“That's disgusting,” Arren said. “How could that be? For generations it has been forbidden to mix blood.”

“I don't know. But that's what's coming through.”

“Zora, does she say anything?” Arren said.

Zimp turned to him, but noticed that the others were listening. “You trust the dead over me?” she said, an edge creeping into her voice.

Crepp looked as though he was going to support Arren.

Zimp stopped. “Go on, then. Go. I will try to ask her.”

Arren acted more than satisfied to lead the others away, and arrogantly stepped to the front while Zimp remained where she was.

Breel and Therin held fast, like loyal subjects, to their positions near Zimp.

“Thank you for waiting with me,” Zimp said.

“You are the Chieftain. The others should have stayed, as well. It may not be my place to say this, but I would watch my own people closely.” Breel looked around as though wary that someone might be listening. “It is through the most common activities that alignments happen.”

Zimp sat on the cool, damp ground in the center of the path. In only three deep breaths she dropped into meditation and opened her third eye. A blue haze appeared around the pure white center of her mind where she focused. She expanded her hearing inward. She opened her senses as though she had stepped into a world unlike any other, a world in which she needed to be cautious.

“Enemies and brothers. Liars and thieves,” came the whisper of Zora's voice. “One man holds sanity in a tortured soul.”

“Clearly,” Zimp implied without using words. An unexplainable movement occurred. She thought she heard clicking sounds, a soft drumbeat. Zimp held to the pure white center.

“Who are the liars and thieves? Who are enemies and brothers?” The questions faded. Zora cawed and Zimp felt the soft wind of a wing flutter near her cheek. Again, a voice. “Watch your clan. Varied in their beliefs, unsure of their positions. Watch your traveling companions, they are varied in their beliefs.”

Zimp questioned Zora one final time, her voice diminished, weak. “What of the Flandeans?”

“They are varied in their beliefs,” Zora repeated.

Zimp rose back into the physical world through three more breaths, and looked up. Should she tell Breel that the crow clan was splitting their alliances? That Zora said Breel and her brothers were split? “I gained little on them. There were other things Zora said that I cannot tell you. She repeated herself. I am not so good at this yet.”

“As you wish,” Breel said.

“She did say one thing early on. She said that one held sanity in a tortured soul.”