The White City (6 page)

Sally gave a miserable sigh and took the rabbit’s foot from her dress pocket to check the direction. “Quorl!”

He snapped his head around. “What is it?”

Sally held out the rabbit’s foot, then moved it back and forth in front of her, watching the golden foot rotate in her palm until the tiny claws pointed west.

“Nothing … for a moment, I thought it was glowing.” She put the rabbit’s foot back in her pocket. “It must have just been the light reflecting off of it. Shall we go?” She pointed. “That way.”

The two set out, slowly climbing farther up the pass into the mountain wilderness.

As evening fell, they made camp by a stream, where Quorl caught a few trout with his paws. Sally was used to eating the silky cold meat raw now, and with the bountiful wax currants and early season nuts Quorl had found for her, her stomach was full for the first time since she’d left the Great Tree.

“I don’t know what I would do without you, dear Quorl,” Sally said contentedly as she popped the last of the berries into her mouth. “I can figure out mysteries in the
Incunabula
but not how to start a fire or what’s safe to eat. I’d never even be able to feed myself if you weren’t here.”

“You survived on the open prairie before you met me,” he reminded her.

“Only because I had Hethy.”

Quorl gave a soft chuckle. “Well, not to worry. I am with you. And the desert is behind us. We will eat much better now up in these mountains.” Quorl stretched out on the mossy ground by the banks of the stream.

The first stars were coming out and the air was growing cool. Sally leaned closer to Quorl’s warm side. “Quorl?” she began. “How will we reach my father?”

“What do you mean?” he asked. “The
Toninyan
is leading you, is it not?”

“What I mean is …” She paused to gather her thoughts. “Father is in the Gloaming. How are we going to cross over? Can you cross?”

“The rougarou’s powers are not like those of the Ramblers,” he said. “We cannot cross anywhere we wish. I can only cross using the Great Tree.”

A sinking feeling came over Sally. “Then how will we ever reach Father?”

Quorl gave her an assuring look. “Your father is not in this world. He is in the Gloaming. And yet, the
Toninyan
pulls you toward something in this world. What do you think that is?”

“I have no idea,” Sally sighed.

“There are thresholds. Thin places in the fabric between the worlds where the Great Tree’s branches come close to us. The rabbit’s foot pulls you toward your father, so he must be just beyond one of these thresholds. I will be able to help you across.”

Sally shifted anxiously. “Unless the branches of the Tree are too brittle.”

“We will hope they are not,” Quorl said. “We are a long way from the Gog’s Machine here.”

Sally felt better knowing that Quorl could help her across one of these thresholds, but her thoughts were awhirl with other worries. At last she asked, “What will happen if the Great Tree dies? Will … will
everyone
die? Would I die too?”

“No.” His gruff voice was not especially reassuring. “You would not die. But if the Gog’s Machine kills the Great Tree, it will bring something altogether worse than death for humankind. You would be soulless. You would become something that felt no kinship or compassion for the rest of humanity or the world in which you live.”

Sally shivered. “Would you know if the Tree died?”

“I would know, little Coyote,” Quorl replied.

“How?” Sally asked.

“I would know,” he repeated.

Sally wriggled back and forth, moving closer to Quorl. “Would you die with it?”

Quorl’s voice was growing raspy. “Yes. I would pass from this world as well.”

Sally wondered for a moment before asking, “Where did you come from, Quorl? Did the rougarou come from the top of the Great Tree—from that world beyond?”

“No, from beneath the earth, I think. I believe I recall that we ascended in our true forms from some lower world up to this one. Possibly up another Tree. Or maybe it was the same. I … I am having trouble … trouble r-r-r”—his voice broke into a low, guttural growl—“not … r-r-remember-r-ring now.”

Sally lifted her head quickly from his fur. Quorl’s tongue dangled from his long teeth. He was panting heavily all of a sudden. He rose to his feet and trod around in a circle.

“Quorl?” she asked anxiously.

He shook his head as if clearing away some thought. Then he spoke, his voice returning to its normal pitch. “I … I am sorry.” He slumped back to the ground, panting. “I just need to rest. Let us sleep now.” He laid his snout on his front paws and closed his eyes.

She had seen how Renamex and the other rougarou had lost themselves, their minds becoming those of wolves just as their bodies were. Quorl was too far from the Tree. He was changing.

She nestled against his side and hoped he was right. Maybe a good night’s rest would help.

The following day as they continued to climb the pass, Sally watched Quorl closely and thankfully saw no noticeable return
of the strange behavior from the night before. But Quorl seemed troubled and barely spoke as they traveled.

They crossed through lush forests of spruce and aspen, over meadows of wildflowers, and into still other forests of tall lodgepole pines. Ground squirrels and mule deer, marmots and coyotes scampered from them as they approached, and once Sally spied a golden eagle soaring above the mountainside.

“This is a marvelous place,” Sally remarked. “So lovely, but it seems we travel so slow.” She pointed to a snow-covered summit in the distance. “I’ve watched that mountain peak all day. Now it’s late afternoon, and we seem no closer to it than when we started this morning.”

With his head low, Quorl growled.

“What is it?” she asked.

He kept walking and did not answer.

Later that afternoon, they entered a broad valley with a meandering river, and the rabbit’s foot led them toward a glacier squeezed between two sheer mountains. Quorl stopped as they reached the field of ice. A rumble reverberated from his chest, and he began trotting back the way they’d come.

“Where are you going?” Sally called, pointing to the glacier. “The rabbit’s foot says that’s the direction.”

Quorl barked angrily, and Sally backed away a step.

The rougarou lowered his head and flipped his ears side to side. “That r-route.” He paused, barked in frustration, and then tried once more. “Too steep. Go back.” He threw his nose toward the range running up from the valley floor. “We go up on that r-r-ridge.” He waited for her to follow.

With a shudder, Sally walked with Quorl back the way they had come. Soon he led them up a steep climb along a thickly
timbered slope. When they reached the top of the ridge, Quorl began sniffing the ground.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Hor-r-rse,” Quorl growled.

“A mustang, maybe,” Sally said. “We saw some the other day.” She watched as Quorl stood panting, his ribs sucking tightly against his silver body. “You’re getting worse,” she said. “Aren’t you?”

“Ther-r-re is nothing we can do,” he said quietly.

“What about those doorways, Quorl?” Sally said desperately. “You said there were places where you could cross over to the Great Tree. Find one of those and cross over! It will help you. It will make you better.”

A whine sounded from his throat. He struggled to speak. “I would if I could. The Tr-r-ree is dying. And with it the door-r-rways are disappear-r-ring. We have to hope we r-r-reach your father befor-re that threshold is lost also.”

Sally wrung her hands anxiously. “We should rest,” she suggested, hoping it might help revive him. “I’m hungry. Could you find us some food?”

He nodded and lowered his nose to search.

“I’ll go ahead and see if there’s water,” she called before continued along the ridgeline with the rabbit’s foot in her hand. Was Quorl becoming irrational in this new state? He couldn’t have smelled a horse. They had not seen another person since the dusty plains several days before, and that had only been a stagecoach traveling eastward in the distance.

The ridgeline eventually led her to a forest of aspens, where, after passing through the lonely groaning trees, she
found herself in a cove with sheer rock rising up from a half-frozen lake.

She walked down to the lake to wait for Quorl. The snow crunched under her feet, and the wind whipping around the cove was chilly. She wondered, if the rabbit’s foot was going to lead her much higher into the mountains, whether she had enough clothing. How much longer would they travel to find her father? Each morning brought hope, each day desperation, and each night disappointment.

Frowning with these glum thoughts, Sally looked out at the lake. Snow masked the shoreline, and a natural bridge of ice extended out over the cold black water. Sally put a tentative foot down on the bridge. The packed snow and ice seemed thick, but she knew the bridge was merely floating on the half-frozen lake. Looking around, she spied game trails beyond the lake, continuing from the cove to the west. That would be their route, she decided. She would wait for Quorl, and hopefully he would find something tasty for lunch.

Sally gazed up at the amphitheater of rock overhanging the lake. A heavy bank of snow hung over the top of the wall, dripping long icicles down the sides, and the wind blew powder down over the lake. Her attention caught on a little needle of snow and rock beyond the wall.

Was that the summit she had been watching all day? The illusive peak that she felt they could never quite reach?

With a few cautious steps, Sally ventured farther out onto the ice bridge. As she did, the summit came fully into the view. She gasped with joy. It was so close now! Just beyond the cove. She and Quorl would pass around the summit this very
afternoon. She was not sure why, but this gave her a hopeful feeling, like there was some other presence in these lonesome mountains besides her and Quorl. Like her father might at last be close.

Behind her, footsteps crunched on the snow. With excitement swelling in her chest, Sally turned. “Quorl, look! We’ve—” Her voice fell short.

Standing barefoot in the snow at the start of the bridge, the siren Jolie watched her. Sally quickly scanned about. Quorl was nowhere around. A horse waited in the aspen trees, its reins dangling from its neck, and pushed its nose through the patches of snow for grass.

“Sally Cobb,” Jolie said, her voice low but echoing off the sheer rock wall around them.

Sally’s heart raced. Jolie had not called her Coyote. She had spoken her true name. How had the siren discovered that she was Ray’s sister?

“What are you doing here?” Sally asked, and backed a few steps farther across the bridge. The path grew narrow as Sally neared the middle of the lake, the mineral-blue waters looming ominously on either side.

Jolie stepped out onto the bridge. The wind tangled her dark hair about her face. “Come back, Sally. Come so I may speak with you. It is dangerous out there.”

“Why are you following us?” Sally cried, her voice reverberating around the cove and sending a few chunks of snow down from the high wall above them.

“Do not be afraid,” Jolie said patiently. “I only need to speak to you. And if we talk too loudly, our voices might
bring more of that snow down.” Jolie walked slowly, her eyes darting with each footstep to the ice bridge beneath her feet.

Sally’s foot broke through a slushy puddle that quickly filled with icy water.

Jolie held out a hand. “Please come back. Let me tell you what has happened to Hethy and to your—”

“Where is Hethy?” Sally asked, her gaze quickly scanning the shoreline. “Is she with you?”

“No,” Jolie said. “Hethy was very sick when I left her at the Wolf Tree. From the Darkness.”

Fear gripped Sally. She stepped back toward Jolie. “What will happen to her? Will she die?”

“I do not think so. I left healing waters with Conker. I am sure he has helped her. When I set off after you, Redfeather and Marisol were bringing Hethy to him—”

“Redfeather! Marisol. They were at the Great Tree too?”

“Yes,” Jolie said. “They were with your brother. That is what I am trying to tell you. We have been following you. You have been in great danger. Agents of the Gog have been pursuing you.”

“What?” Sally said in disbelief. “Why would they … but where is Ray? Where is he?”

“He gave himself up to the agents. To keep them from coming after you.”

“No!” Sally cried. “Not Ray!”

Her voice fell as she saw Quorl burst from the aspens. He snarled ferociously and flashed a mouthful of fangs.

As he raced toward Jolie, Sally was too shocked to react. The Quorl she had known had a quality to him that was
neither animal nor human, something altogether beyond this world. But this monster fixing his dark, rage-filled eyes on Jolie was nearly unrecognizable to her.

Jolie spun around and held out her hands. “Wait!”

The rougarou charged toward her, his roars echoing off the rock amphitheater. Sally felt the bridge trembling beneath her feet. There was a rumble from above. The snowbank broke apart, and enormous hunks of snow began to fall.