Sand slid across her knee and wrapped himself around her wrist, making a thick bracelet. He had fit there much better several years before, when he was small. A few minutes later Mist glided around Snake’s waist and up and across her shoulders. In better times, if all were well, Grass would have circled her throat, a soft, living emerald necklace.
“Snake-child, is it safe?” Grum did not pull the tent flaps aside even enough to peek through.
“It’s safe, if you aren’t afraid. Shall I put them away?”
Grum hesitated. “Well… no.”
She came through the entrance sideways, shouldering the tent flaps open. Her hands were full. While her eyes accustomed themselves to the dim light, she stood quite still.
“It’s all right,” Snake said. “They’re both over here with me.”
Blinking, Grum came closer. Next to the packsaddle she laid a blanket, a leather folder, a waterskin, a small cook-pot. “Pauli is getting provisions,” she said. “None of this will make up for what happened, but—”
“Grum, I haven’t even paid you for Squirrel’s keep yet.”
“Nor shall you,” Grum said, smiling. “I explained about that.”
“You have the bad end of a gamble that costs me nothing.”
“Never mind. You visit us in the spring and see the little stripy foals your pony sires. I have a feeling.”
“Then let me pay for the new equipment.”
“No, we all talked, and we wanted to give it to you.” She shrugged her left shoulder where she had been vaccinated. The place was probably sore by now. “To thank you.”
“I don’t want to seem ungrateful,” Snake said, “but the vaccinations are something no healer ever accepts payment for. No one here was ill. I’ve done nothing for anyone.”
“No one was ill, no, but had we been you would have helped. Am I right?”
“Yes, of course, but—”
“You would give, if someone could not pay. Should we do any less? Should we send you into the desert with nothing?”
“But I can pay.” In her case she carried gold and silver coins.
“Snake!” Grum was scowling, and the endearments left her speech abruptly. “Desert people do not steal, and they do not allow their friends to be stolen from. We failed you. Leave us our honor.”
Snake realized Grum did not intend, had never intended, to be persuaded to take payment. Snake’s accepting the gift was important to her.
“I’m sorry, Grum. Thank you.”
The horses were saddled and ready to go. Snake put most of the equipment on Swift so Squirrel would not have much to carry. The mare’s saddle, though decorated and intricately tooled, was functional. It fit the horse so well and was so comfortable and of such excellent quality that Snake began to feel less uneasy about the flamboyance of it.
Grum and Pauli had come to see her off. No one had had any adverse reaction to the vaccination, so it was safe for Snake to leave. She hugged both the women gently. Grum kissed her cheek, her lips soft and warm and very dry.
“Good-bye,” Grum whispered as Snake mounted the mare. “Good-bye!” she called louder.
“Good-bye!” Snake rode away, turning in the saddle to wave back.
“If the storms come,” Grum cried, “find a rock-cave. Don’t forget the landmarks, they’ll get you to Mountainside quicker!”
Smiling, Snake rode the mare between the summertrees, still able to hear Grum’s advice and cautions about oases and water and the orientation of the sand dunes, the direction of the wind, the ways the caravannaires had of keeping their bearings in the desert; and about trails and roads and inns once Snake reached the central mountains, the high range separating the eastern and western deserts. Squirrel trotted at Snake’s side, sound on his unshod forefoot.
The mare, well rested and well fed, would have galloped, but Snake held her to a jog. They had a long way to go.
Swift snorted and Snake woke abruptly, nearly hitting her head on the rock overhang. It was dead noon; in her sleep she had scrunched back into the only remaining shade.
“Who’s there?”
No one answered. There was no reason for anyone to be nearby. Grum’s oasis and the next one before the mountains were two nights apart: Snake had camped for today in rocky wilderness. There were no plants; there was no food or water.
“I’m a healer,” she called, feeling foolish. “Be careful, my serpents are free. Speak or let me see you or make some signal and I’ll put them away.”
No one answered.
There’s no one out there, that’s why, Snake thought. For gods’ sakes, no one’s following you. Crazies don’t follow people. They’re just… crazy.
She lay down again and tried to fall asleep, but every touch of windblown sand against stone roused her. She did not feel comfortable until twilight came and she broke camp and headed east.
The rocky trail up the mountain slowed the horses and made Squirrel’s forefoot tender again. Snake was limping slightly, too, for the change in altitude and temperature affected her bad right knee. But the valley sheltering Mountainside lay just ahead, another hour’s walk. At its beginning the trail had been steep, but they were in the pass; soon they would be beyond the crest of the central mountains’ eastern range. Snake dismounted to let Swift rest.
Scratching Squirrel’s forehead as he nibbled at her pockets, Snake looked back over the desert. A thin haze of dust obscured the horizon, but the nearer black sand dunes lay in rolling opalescence before her, flashing back the reddened sunlight. Heat waves gave the illusion of movement. Once one of Snake’s teachers had described the ocean to her, and this was what she imagined it to look like.
She was glad to leave the desert behind. Already the air had cooled, and grass and bushes clung tenaciously in crevices full of rich volcanic ash. Lower down, the wind scoured sand and earth and ash from each mountain’s flanks. This high, hardy plants grew in sheltered spots, but there was not much water to help them.
Snake turned away from the desert and led the horse and the tiger-pony upward, her boots slipping on wind-polished rock. The desert robe encumbered her in this country, so she took it off and tied it behind the saddle. The loose pants and short-sleeved tunic she wore beneath flapped against her legs and body in the wind. As Snake neared the pass the wind rose, for the narrow cut in the rock acted as a funnel to strengthen any tiny breeze. In a few hours it would be cold. Cold — ! She could hardly imagine such a luxury.
Snake reached the summit and stepped into another world. Looking out over the green valley, Snake felt as if she must have left all the misfortunes of the desert behind. Squirrel and Swift both raised their heads and sniffed and snorted at the smell of fresh pasture, running water, other animals.
The town itself spread to either side of the main trail, clusters of stone buildings constructed against the mountain, cut into it, terraced black-on-black. The fields covered the floor of the valley, emerald and golden on the flood plain of a glittering gray river. The far side of the valley, sloping higher than Snake stood now, was wilderness, forest, to just below the western range’s bare stony peaks.
Snake took a deep breath of the clean air and started downward.
The handsome people of Mountainside had encountered healers before. Their deference was colored by admiration and some caution, rather than the fear Snake had found on the other side of the desert. The caution Snake was used to; it was only common sense, for Mist and Sand could be dangerous to anyone but herself. Snake acknowledged respectful greetings with a smile as she led her horses through the cobblestone streets.