Spider Wars: Book Three of the Black Bead Chronicles (37 page)

Zeff and Breyden stood at
the edge of the bed of pale sand. Both looked up at Blackwind’s
approach, flashing Cheobawn their own quiet kind of smiles. Amabel
and Sigrid had their heads together over a wooden cask, deep in
discussion, Amabel dipping her instruments into the fluid inside,
testing the salinity and temperature. The Maker of the Living Thread
was rattling off a long string of instructions for Sigrid’s
benefit. Sigrid listened intently, perhaps fearing to miss any point
of care for the spiders. So much depended on their survival. The rest
of Ramhorn Pack stood at the heads of a string of bennelk, trying to
keep them calm. Being this close to a predator of Spider’s ilk was
not to their liking. The animals were already saddled and laden for
the long trek south to Meetpoint dome.

Steam rose from the hatching
ground in the cool air. Spring had come early but here in the shadow
of the greater dome, the air still had the hint of winter. A
fluttering of fear touched her heart. Cheobawn let go of Tam’s
hand, her pleasure at his release evaporating. The babies were afraid
with the presence of so many humans.

“
Stand back, all of you,”
Cheobawn said. “Give me a moment.”

The sand heaved. Cheobawn
felt her own strange heart lurch in anticipation. She was Nnursht
standing guard over her clutch, thousands of years out of time. In
her mind it was not day but night – a deep, dark night in which the
twin moons crawled out of the sky to hide themselves below the
horizon, taking their light with them. In her mind, or in her memory,
she looked up to see the stars in all their splendid glory. Under her
black claw tips, the children broke their shells with their egg claws
and scrambled towards the air, desperate to survive. Nnursht wished
them peace, singing the pattern of her soul into their crystalline
minds to make sure the children would remember her, even after her
passing. This was Nnursht’s song; a song of hot sandy beaches and a
warm shallow sea where every net pulled in a fat fish or a juicy eel
and the mudflats in the estuaries heaved with worms and shellfish
that grew under the blankets of silt. The song had a chorus, the
chorus telling of stars filled with brothers and sisters looking down
from on high. She sang the song of seeking, of crawling up into the
darkness and leaping off into the unknown. Then she added the new
chorus, the final triumphant strain that told of coming home; at long
last, coming home.

Calm yourselves,
children
, she thought.
Allow these creatures to help you. Long
is the journey to the warm seas and this vessel will take you there.

Cheobawn shook Spider free
of her mind and looked up, nodding. Zeff, Sigrid and Breyden each
donned a pair of ironsmith gloves and stooped to gather up the
fragile spiders as they emerged from the sand. One by one they were
dropped into the casks. Cheobawn counted. Twenty three in all. It was
a paltry number. Too few, surely. So much hinged on the survival of
every single baby. When they were all accounted for, Amabel placed
the lids on the two casks and adjusted the canister of pressurize air
attached there, studying the readouts on the gauges. It was primitive
technology at best but the Mothers had rules about what went off the
Escarpment, apparently. Cheobawn was not sure what harm would have
come from putting a simple monitor crystal inside the cask with the
babies so that she could watch over them on their ride down to the
sea but she was not going to argue. She was lucky they had agreed to
her plan as it was, as Amabel liked to remind her at least once a
day.

Cheobawn crossed to Sigrid’s
side to touch his hand. “I cannot thank you enough for what you are
doing.”

“
I would have resented
being excluded from this, the final act, Little Mother,” Sigrid
said gently.

“
So much rides upon the
success of this. Do not forget to give Sam my message, I beg you,”
she said.

“
It is unseemly, Little
Mother,” Sigrid said, leaning down to whisper his protest. “He is
a Lowlander.”

“
It is how Lowlanders
speak to each other,” she said with a shrug. “Motherless as they
are, you must pity him instead of being angry.”

Amabel, satisfied that the
spider children would survive the long voyage, called Sigrid back to
her side. Sigrid grimaced, a look only she could see, and then turned
to return to the Mother’s side.

Cheobawn crossed to Cloud
Eye. The bennelk stood calmly waiting, not even a twitch of an ear
betraying her disapproval of this venture. Cheobawn caressed her
velvet nose and pressed her face against the bony plates of her
forehead while Zeff helped Sigrid lift the casks onto Cloud Eye’s
pack saddle. The other bennelk flicked their ears nervously, shudders
running through the muscles of their sides as they controlled their
battle urges and consented to be held still by their riders.

They are small. We could
smash them all with no effort,
Cloud Eye said stubbornly.

Stop. Do you want Spider to
send more eggs down upon our heads? We must do this so that our
forests stay free of Spiders.

The mind of the ice
demons are too strange. I do not trust anything they have to say.
Neither should you,
Cloud Eye
said, her concern hanging heavy on her thoughts.

They remember everything.
It makes me glad that thoughts sometimes slip out of my head like
water never to return,
Cheobawn
said smiling.
Your bravery makes me very proud. Your
greatness will rival Herd Mother’s someday.

You are like a biting
fly,
Cloud Eye said with a snort
and a flick of her ears.
What choice had I?

Cheobawn laughed. She had
been rather persistent. Herd Mother had given her reluctant approval
but would only release her youngest daughters from the herd for what
she considered a dangerous foray. Cloud Eye, having already killed
her share of spider babies, seemed the most pragmatic about carrying
the little beasts on her back.

When the casks were settled
and Ramhorn Pack had climbed into their saddles and wrapped the reins
around their fists, Cheobawn saluted Sigrid and turned back towards
the dome. Her Pack stood watching her. She laughed as something
strange bubbled up around her heart. Joy. Joy had come back to her
after being a stranger for so long. Hugging each of them in turn, she
turned them back towards the West Gate.

“
What message have you
sent to Sam?” Tam asked as he fell into step by her side. “What
did Sigrid mean?” Tam’s tone was too even, his face suspiciously
empty of expression. Cheobawn smiled, suddenly understanding why
girls liked to tease boys.

“
Poor Sam,” Cheobawn
said with a sigh as she glanced at her Alpha out of the corner of her
eye. “He is doomed. I have taken him into my heart and there he
shall stay, cursed as I am cursed, by the chaos of my inception.
Sigrid must tell him of my love and gratitude. I am in his debt and
now he will know that I am only a thought away should he need my
help.”

“
What?” Tam asked, a
scowl forming on his brow. “Have we added a new member to our
Pack?”

Connor whooped and leap up
into the air. “Yes! At last I am no longer junior most. Sam is now
Omega.” Alain tried to punch Connor in the shoulder but Connor
danced out of reach and grinned impishly at his packmate, taunting
him with a flick of his chin. Alain smiled and pretended he had not
seen the challenge.

“
He has no training and no
manners,” Megan said, her manner cool. She had never liked Sam. His
Lowlander brain was far too loud and unshielded in the ambient.

“
You pity a Lowlander?
Have you no pity for the rest of us?” Alain said, his own joy
creating cracks in the hard finish that had surrounded him since he
stepped out of the Temple.

Cheobawn snorted in disdain.
“What paltry warriors you would be if you could not stand your
ground in the face of the maelstrom of my chaos. Have I not trained
you better?” An impish grin crossed her face. She leapt forward and
sprinted towards the door. “Last one to the dining hall gets no
berry crisp,” she called over her shoulder. Connor whooped in
delight and pelted after her. Tam exchanged long suffering looks with
Alain and Megan. Alain shrugged and set out after Connor, intent on
overtaking him. Megan laughed and tugged Tam into motion. It was hard
to tell who tumbled through the doors of the dining room last. It did
not matter. Nedella had cleaned out the last of her hidden stock of
berries from her larder in celebration of this day. There was plenty
of berry crisp for everyone.

Cheobawn
woke. Cool air drifted through the half open shutters of the window
over her bed. Was it the moon that had disturbed her sleep or the
sounds coming from Tam’s sleeping chamber? Megan was bunking with
Tam instead of sleeping in her own cot this night but it seemed that
not a lot of sleeping was taking place. This elicited only a mild
curiosity on her part, nothing more. It was to be expected of newly
trained temple students, Zeff had warned her. He had seemed concerned
that she might feel lonely or left out.

Cheobawn had other worries.
She slipped silently off her cot and eased the louvered doors of her
sleep chamber open. The common room was empty, Eiocha’s bright
light streaming through the southern windows. Her bare feet padded
silently across the wooden floor as she wound her way around the
clutter of the room until she stood in front of the map table. Using
a handy chair, she clambered onto its surface and pulled the golden
sphere out of its cradle. Sitting cross legged on the map, she placed
Old Father Bhotta’s bloodstone in the hollow made by her crossed
legs, took a long slow breath, and pressed her hands against the
golden skin of the ball.

She stood in the misty room.
Oud opened her eyes and looked up, a gentle smile on her face.

Hello, again, little one
,
Oud said with a slight bow of her long violet body.
How pleased I
am to talk to you again. How may I serve you?

I need to talk to the
Lowlander boy again,
Cheobawn said.

Ah, let me wake a sister to
establish trinity or perhaps two so that we can use a quintet for
added boost. The Lowlander is dreadfully ungifted.

And Spider, holding a
sister-stone to mine, has access to this circle. Thank you for
blocking that.
Cheobawn said. Something else occurred to her.
Do
you tell Bohea of our conversations?

I cannot lie,
Oud
said sadly.

Oh,
Cheobawn said,
worried but not sure if it mattered enough to change what she was
about to do.

But I do not volunteer
information unless asked,
Oud said with a sly smile. Cheobawn
grinned, delighted by this peek into Oud’s impish nature.

That is good to know,
Cheobawn said.

Ah, we have found him. He
has moved since we last talked.

The misty room disappeared.
She stood upon the deck of a river schooner. The wind was at her
back, the masts full of sail, their ropes singing under the strain of
pulling the ship up river. Sam was studying the set of the sail and
the lie of the dark banks on either side of him, his eyes in constant
motion. She studied the lines of his face. The large moon, Eiocha,
hung high in the sky, casting everything but the water into stark
planes of light and shadow. He seemed older, somehow. The suffering
of his ordeal below the Escarpment had etched permanent lines around
his mouth and eyes. It suddenly occurred to her that he had been
beautiful once. But no more. His nose was no longer perfect, having
grown a lump or two from all the abuse it had weathered. There was a
scar that ran along the edge of his jaw. She had not noticed it the
last time they had talked but the light of the moon cast the
imperfection into deep relief. The innocent boy was gone. A strong
man sat in his place. She decided she trusted the man more than the
boy.

She shook her head at the
flights of fancy her mind was taking. She had business to do here.

Perhaps she made a noise or
perhaps he caught the movement of her form out of the corner of his
eye. Sam turned and stared at her. Cheobawn smiled and came to sit
next to him behind the great wheel.

“
Are you real or am I very
drunk and imagining this?” Sam asked.

“
I love your ship, Sam,”
she said, looking up at the white sails, their moonlit shapes
brilliant against the night sky. “If I were a Lowlander, I’d sail
the river all the time, night and day.”

“
I risk life and limb
sailing at night. My crew is near to mutiny. Your deadline is almost
impossible to make. What do you want now? Did I not roust my crew out
in the dead of night and set sail, my hold empty, with no more than a
day’s notice? My father is back home in Dunauken questioning my
sanity.”