WHEN THEY WEREnear enough to see what the firelight revealed, Trey and Alishia stopped.
Alishia could make out two people, one asleep, the other awake. Two horses as well, hidden back in the shadows of the rock slope, snorting in disturbed sleep. She drew Trey close, catching the hint of fledge on his breath. “Two people,” she whispered into his ear.
He nodded. “I know. One is asleep and dreaming dreams I don’t wish to visit again. The other is… strange. There’s much more than a mind there, and I can’t touch it.”
“Are they safe?”
Trey shrugged. “How should I know how you topsiders are supposed to think? The one sleeping, she’s frightened and excited at the same time. And I think she’s mad. I’ll not look again.”
“And that one sitting there?”
“I told you, I don’t know,” Trey whispered. “Give me a moment.” He sat back and closed his eyes, and Alishia’s gaze went from him back to the figure sitting by the fire. After a few heartbeats the figure raised its head, startled, looking around as if hearing something in the night. The fire spat sparks that danced in the night air, pockets of sap bursting within the logs. The sparks stayed alive until they were high up, mixing with the stars, aiming at the weak life moon.
Trey gasped and slumped, shaking his head, spitting, rubbing his temples as if trying to rid himself of some vile invader.
“Trey?” Alishia touched his shoulder and squeezed lightly.
“More than a mind,” he muttered. “There’s much more than a mind.”
More than a mind? What’s more than a mind? “We should go to talk to them.”
“No!” Trey said, louder than he should have. Alishia ducked down and watched the figure by the fire. It stood, shedding its blanket, and she saw that it was barely more than a boy. He looked in their direction but she could see nothing of his expression, read nothing in his stance. He seemed to carry no weapons. He glanced to the sleeping form, but that person remained asleep, dreaming whatever dreams had so disturbed Trey.
Alishia stood and walked toward the fire.
“Wait!” Trey hissed behind her, but she kept moving. The boy did not look dangerous. If anything he seemed afraid and alone, so surely he would welcome the company of other travelers to keep the dark at bay? Besides, he was someone new to meet, see, talk to. To question!
“Hello by the fire!” she said as she approached.
“Who’s there?” The boy edged quickly behind the flames, stooping to pluck a burning branch and hold it before him. “Hope!”
Alishia frowned, wondering whether it was some foreign greeting, but then the sleeping figure sat up quickly and she knew it was a name.
A witch! Alishia had read of witches, much good and much bad, but she had only ever seen one from a distance on the streets of Noreela City. She had heard of the tattoos they seemed to favor, used to amplify the expression of their emotions and frighten and coerce people into seeing things their way. This witch showed fear immediately… but it was soon stamped out by anger.
“Stay away!” she said. “Keep in the shadows where you belong.”
“I’m not here to harm,” Alishia said. “I’m cold and hungry and my horse died. I only wish to share your fire.”
“Get away and make your own,” the boy said, waving the burning branch as if offering the flame.
“Please!” Alishia said. He’s the one that the fledger could not see. The one with more than a mind. What’s more than a mind?
“Are you alone?” the witch asked.
“No, there’s a fledge miner with me, Trey Barossa. He’s hiding back there. He doesn’t think you’re safe.”
The witch stood and shook herself, untangling her clothes, running her fingers through knotted hair. “He’s right,” she said.
“You look as afraid as I feel,” Alishia said to Rafe, and his eyes widened, the flaming stick lowered toward the ground.
Wider. Let me see inside.
She felt unaccountably excited, intrigued by this boy and whatever secrets he held restrained.
So soon? Have I found it so soon?
But she did not know what “it” was, and the strange thoughts confused and troubled her. Only a while ago she had pleasured herself to the song of these strange thoughts. She had considered that it was the fledge miner prying into her mind, traveling using fledge to view her innermost secrets and pique her desires, but he seemed too frightened to be plotting and scheming. And the thoughts… they were further removed from him. They were almost alien.
Alishia had begun to wonder whether she had made a mistake leaving the city.
“He’s not scared,” the witch said. “I’m looking after him, so he’s got nothing to be scared about.”
“Why are you looking after him?” Alishia said. “He can’t be your son.”
“Know a little about witches, do you?”
“A little.” Alishia had read a lot. She knew that they were mostly made sterile by the poisons and plants they made their work. And she knew that the witch could be carrying poisonous creatures to throw, or blinding powders, or chemicala. The very tincture of her tattoos could kill.
The witch stared at her, edging slowly around the fire until she stood between Alishia and the boy.
What’s so precious? Alishia thought. And then that other part of her mind again, the one that did not feel like her own: Could he be so precious?
“Tell the fledger to show himself,” the witch said.
“Trey! Come out of the dark.” Alishia heard the footsteps behind her, slow and troubled.
“It hurts my eyes,” he said.
“Not been aboveground for long?” the witch asked, but Trey did not answer.
“Any more of you?” Rafe said.
His voice sent a thrill down Alishia’s spine. She did not know why. “No,” she said. “This is us.”
“We have no food,” the boy said. “Nothing to offer you.”
“We have a little fledge,” Alishia said, but the witch cursed and spat into the fire. It sizzled, as if just as mad.
“We don’t want your drug!” she hissed at Trey.
The four of them sized one another up, and all the time Alishia’s gaze was on Rafe. He was an attractive boy, maybe three or four years younger than her, but he looked tired and worn, as if time had suddenly caught up to show him what the world was all about. His eyes reflected the fire, but only reluctantly. It was the death moon that cast its color into his hair. Maybe if I can take some fledge I can look inside, see what is more than a mind. The idea was frightening-her last experience with fledge had made her sense something awful-but it thrilled that shaded part of her as well.
“I don’t mind if you want to join us,” Rafe said at last. He threw the branch back into the fire, raising a splash of sparks. His eyes never once left Alishia’s. He backed away from the flames and sat down, and Alishia followed suit. They smiled at each other as the witch cursed and spat again.
“Rafe, we have no idea who they are! They might be after… something. Anything. You know what I mean.”
A secret! Alishia thought, and she almost laughed. Something tickled at her consciousness like a name on the tip of her tongue, a fact locked deep down in her mind and willing itself to be shown.
“They don’t look like Monks to me,” the boy said.
“Monks?” Trey had sat with his back to the fire, and he mumbled something else into the dark.
Monks, Alishia thought. What sort of Monks did he mean? There were the bands of moon worshippers-life or death-that still practiced their religions, long gone though the magic of the land was. And there were
…
There were Red Monks. Red Monks like the bastard that had burned down her library, stolen something away, charred her dreams and memories to cover whatever he may have left. Red Monks. Sworn destroyers of magic.
Magic! The shout was so loud in her head that she thought they must have all heard, but the boy’s eyes did not falter, the cursing witch did not let up in her litany. And Alishia, staring steadily into the flame, felt the darkened place in her mind open up.
Tim Lebbon