Power Lines (7 page)

“There were others, too,” Miuk said. “Ask Clodagh. Sometimes if what the company wanted was near Shannonmouth, people from Kilcoole would just send them on, or bring them this far and no farther. My brother Upik guided one group, but we never saw him again.”

“I went out with my father and Lavelle Maloney with a group,” Diego said in a quiet, intense voice. “We got into a whiteout. But we took refuge inside the planet. My father . . . well, he was bad for a while and almost died from the shock, but Clodagh and Bunny and the others helped him and now he’s better. That sort of thing seems to happen to a lot of company teams.”

Iva shook her head. “They did not ask permission then. As Satok says, we used to do it all wrong. He says that Miuk’s brother and our other folks killed the company teams and the planet punished them—and us—because of it.”

“Why does he tell you such lies?” Bunny asked. She had restrained herself long enough. Now she was really mad.

“He doesn’t lie. As long as we’ve done what he says, made the payments he wants, things have been better.”

“Payments?” Diego asked incredulously, sticking his jaw out.

“Just little things. Food, furs, some sewing for him, the best pups from the litters, and the best lead dog to train them.”

“Oh, that sort of payments,” Diego said in a tone of voice that Bunny had never heard him use. But she knew what he was leading up to. “And all your troubles have disappeared with his help?”

Universally solemn nods answered the query.

“And the planet doesn’t mind you digging hard down into itself”—Diego made a savage downward thrust with his hand, then gave a mean twist to his imaginary tool as it threw its imaginary contents onto the floor—”and making big sores on its surface?”

There was a stunned rumble at his harsh words.

“You, young Diego, are a stranger, not of this planet. How can you pretend to know its wishes? How can you pretend to know our needs? You have no understanding of the planet, of us, or of how it is at Shannonmouth,” Miuk said sternly, shifting his legs into an aggressive stance.

“Quite possibly I don’t,” Diego said, staring back at him, so unafraid that Bunny was as proud of him as she was scared. “But I have a song to sing . . .”

Bunny breathed a secret sigh of relief. Diego was sure catching on fast. Out of inbred courtesy, everyone in the tiny house relaxed just that little bit that showed they would be receptive to a
song,
but not to more words that went against their shanachie. Of all the tense faces, Bunny noticed only one, that of the light-haired boy, Krisuk, that did not wear the same defensive, half-frightened look. She had mistaken Krisuk’s expression for sullenness at first, but as Diego talked, the other boy’s face relaxed and she saw that he was angry—and not at them.

Diego, as if he’d been doing it all his life instead of just the past few months, lifted his head, half closed his eyes, and sang the song he had composed for the Kilcoole latchkay.

“I am new come, in storm, here.

A storm of heart and mind and soul.

I sought and found storm with Lavelle.

She saved me when the sled crashed down.

With the heat of her body she saved me.

With the wit of her mind she saved my father, too.

Saved me to see the cavern that all say I didn’t see.

“But I saw the caverns and the water and the carving

Of wind and water.

I saw the gleaming snow, like jeweled cloth.

I saw the branches waving, the water talking.

The ice answering, the snow laughing. I saw

The animals of water and earth and they were

Talking, too.

They were kind to me and answered all my

Questions

But I do not know what questions I asked.

I do not know what answers I heard.

I know the cavern, the branches, the talking water.

The speaking ice and the laughing snow. I know

That you know it, too. So hear my song

And believe me. For I have seen what you have seen.

And I am changed. Hear my song. Believe me.”

“Diego is no stranger to Petaybee. The planet has spoken to him,” Bunny said quietly in the respectful silence that followed a true song. For she could see by their reception that the Connellys could recognize the song for what it was.

“The planet speaks to few,” Iva said, nodding her head.

“But here,” Miuk said in a harsh voice, “the planet speaks to Satok and none other, and it is he we must obey in the name of the planet.”

“Well spoken, Miuk.” There were gasps of astonishment as Satok stuck his head through a carefully opened window. “Well sung, young traveler.”

Iva quickly rose and opened the door. She was red with the embarrassment at the shanachie having to listen through a window to hear something going on in her house.

Immediately it occurred to Bunny that that might be how he knew so much of what went on in his village. Inside, he made straight for the bed on which Bunny and Diego sat. But Diego, acting quickly, shifted so that Satok would have to sit next to him instead of Bunny, as had been his very obvious intention.

“Then, young traveler, do you think the planet says one thing for one town and something else for another?” Satok asked, his eyes glistening, his mouth set at a derisive slant.

“Your town is near mines, Kilcoole is not.”

“But Lavelle was searching for mines, was she not, when your group became lost in whiteout?”

“We were, but well east of Kilcoole and well north of here,” Diego answered calmly. Bunny thought he was much cleverer than the shanachie, who was obviously trying to catch him out.

“What else did the planet say to you that you made such a song?”

Diego looked up at the intimidating face of Satok. “The planet gave me words to sing, which I have sung. Now my mouth is dry, and we have come a long way to see Iva Connelly and thank her for gifts, bringing gifts in return.”

“Bah!” Satok said with a scornful glance at the seedlings. “There will be no time for growing things when the company sends orders.”

“There is time now,” Bunny said, encouraged by Diego’s attitude. “The days grow long enough and the soil here will soon be as ready as it is in Kilcoole. It takes nothing from the company to supply fresh food. The company only gives cans and dried stuff. Our people need fresh food.”

Satok jumped to his feet. “I will tell what is good for
my
people, not you strangers.” He whirled on Iva. “You will not accept these gifts.” Iva’s expression was terrified and shocked, but he ignored her. “When the planet feels that you are worthy of them, the planet will provide.” Then, at his full and imposing height, he glared down at Diego and Bunny. “You were not invited.” His thick forefinger pointed ominously at Diego. “You come here and try to tell my people what is proper.” He pointed at Bunny, and a most curiously avid expression fleeted across his face. “The planet speaks through me, and
I
am the best judge of who and what is good for these people. I will decide which gifts are acceptable for this portion of the planet. Your shanachie means well, but she is ignorant of our true needs. I will instruct you tomorrow, when you have rested.”

With that he stalked out of the little house, pausing briefly to eye the curlies, leaving everyone nervous, staring at nothing, or actively trembling. Bunny shook with fury, and Diego had clamped his teeth down on his lip to keep from speaking. He gave Bunny one long look, and his shoulders sagged just like everyone else’s did.

Iva could barely manage to be civil after that. She had been embarrassed in front of them by the shanachie’s behavior, and embarrassed in front of the shanachie by theirs. She was furious with her husband, as well. She did not, however, refuse the provisions Bunny and Diego had brought in their saddlebags to augment the evening meal.

Bunny had little appetite. She was angry and, actually, somewhat shocked. She had never been so rudely treated in her life—not even by her nasty cousins. She had certainly never thought she’d see Clodagh’s careful gifts spurned.

Diego was as silent and ate as little as she, and his eyes had a wary quality to them.

They bedded down that night on the floor, between the two bunks farthest from the fire. They were cold, since they had not brought their warmest winter gear with them. Back in Kilcoole, where it was so unseasonably warm, they had been unable to imagine it being quite so cold here.

Diego shivered, hugging himself and managing to look resentful as he did it.

The blond boy, Krisuk, was in one of the beds beside them, and he threw a quilt down to Diego. “Here you go,” he whispered.

“Don’t you need it?”

“I can put on my parka. I just wanted to tell you, it was great hearing you tell off that blowhard.”

“You mean you don’t think he’s the heart and soul of the planet like everybody else here seems to?” Bunny whispered.

Krisuk made a rude sound, but quietly.

Just then, from outside the cabin, came a series of furious barks.

“Dinah!” Diego said, sitting straight up.

Iva and Miuk looked up, then pointedly rolled back over to sleep; the children other than Krisuk pulled their quilts up over their head. Soon the barking was replaced by scratching at the door and whining.

“She can’t come in,” Krisuk said. “His Highness has decreed that animals aren’t allowed in the house with people.”

But Diego was already at the door, unlatching it and bending over the agitated dog. Bunny rose, too, with Krisuk stealing softly behind her. Since the dog could not come in, Bunny and Krisuk joined Diego outside, where he was rubbing her fur and talking to her.

“She’s trying to tell me something. I know she is,” Diego said. “But she’s so excited it’s all scrambled.”

“Darby and Cisco!” Bunny said, remembering the curlies.

“What?”

“Where are they?’

“I—oh, shit!” he said.

Krisuk made a face. “At least he left the dog.”

“Who?”

“You know—him,” Krisuk said, pointing his chin up past where the houses ended. “He thinks anything worth having belongs to him. Besides, I saw the way he was looking at yer woman here.” He nodded to Bunny. “I think he means to keep
you
here, as well as have the horses.”

“He’ll keep nothing,” Bunny spat. “Including the hold he has over this village. I don’t know how he’s managed to do it, but I know that, if he’s the only one who communicates with the planet here, there’s something seriously wrong.”

Diego said cautiously, “We did promise if we had cause to think this might get dangerous, we’d go meet Sean and the major first.”

“Well, we can’t very well go without the horses now, can we? Not and make it there in good time. We’d be sitting ducks for that—that—witch doctor!” She used the term she had heard some of the company men apply to Clodagh sometimes.

“Your horses are gone,” Krisuk said in a hard, practical voice. “No one can have back what Satok has claimed.”

Bunny put on the voice she had heard Aunt Moira use with recalcitrant children and puppies. “Don’t be daft. Satok is just a man—a greedy one at that.”

“Everyone says he’s the voice of Petaybee.”

“Everyone’s gone bloody deaf then,” Bunny said. “No one creature is the voice of Petaybee. In Kilcoole, anybody who wants to speaks with Petaybee. This planet is perfectly capable of making itself understood to anyone who cares to listen.”

“Then why does it only speak to us through him? I hate him, but the only time anyone hears from the planet, or anything good comes to McGee’s Pass, is when we go to the summonings in the cave up there.”

“The one where we met you and your mother first?” Bunny asked.

“The same.”

“Well, let’s go back there then. I’m on good terms with the planet. I’m quite sure it won’t refuse to speak to me. And besides, he might have hidden the curlies there.”

“No, the horses will be up there,” Krisuk said, gesturing with short jabs of his fingers, “at his house, on top of the cave, on the meadow above the ridge.”

Dinah whined softly, and Diego stroked her. “You know, Bunny, I think the horses would follow Dinah, if they’re not tied too tightly.”

“He’d take your dog as well, or kill her.”

“We’ll see,” Bunny said. Her chin jutted forward and her fists clenched as she marched up the road to the cave mouth. The wind was loud tonight, howling along the treetops and roofs, rattling doors and windows, picking up anything loose and banging it around. It occurred to Bunny that the planet was already speaking, if people would only listen, and the message was loud and clear. It was not pleased. Not pleased at all.

“Bunka, wait!” Krisuk whispered urgently. He grabbed her arm as he caught up with her.

Diego was at her other side. “We can’t wait any longer. This guy already stole our horses. Who knows what he’ll do next?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. She”—Krisuk nodded to Bunny—”especially shouldn’t go.”

“Why not?”

“You didn’t meet my older sister, Luka,” he said. His tone was so angry and anguished that it stopped both Bunny and Diego in their tracks. They were just beyond the last house now, about two hundred paces from the cave mouth. “She got sent over to Deadhorse by Satok. But before that, he took her.”

“What do you mean he took her?” Bunny asked. “You mean
raped
her?”

“No. Not at first, anyway. At first, he was such an important man, she was thrilled that he had chosen her. Why shouldn’t he have? Even though I say it as her brother, she was the prettiest girl in the village, and a smart, hard worker, too. When she was younger, it was thought she might be a healer like Clodagh. She was always singing, always talked to everything in the friendliest fashion. She got kinda funny when she became a woman though. I think maybe people made too much of how pretty she was and what a good catch she would make. And the local fellows—well, there weren’t many in her age group, and none of them were quite right. When Satok came, he flattered her with his attention, not just because she was pretty, but he played on her shaman powers too, how close she had always been to Petaybee. If I didn’t hate him so much, I guess I would have to say he’s not bad-looking. He seems—bigger—than the other fellows here. She was very excited. Thought she had met
her match. My parents thought she would marry him, but he just moved her up there with him, not that there was that much to move.”