Skrimsli, page 12
He turned back and sat down beside the bear. Very gently Skrimsli put his mind into the space where, usually, he met with Owl’s mind. Perhaps it was a way into Karu’s mind too. He didn’t know what else to try, as Karu sat there staring at his own paws, not moving.
Skrimsli felt himself fall into Karu’s head as if into a deep hole. Immediately Karu snarled and pushed him out. Skrimsli felt as if he’d been thwacked with a big paw. Good. If the bear was no longer kind that made it easier. He got up and set off downriver. He had to look for Owl. That was the hunt now. Owl was small and weak; the current would have carried him a long way downstream.
Skrimsli picked up his pace and began to trot. The bear gave a kind of yowl and began to lumber after him. Skrimsli turned and the bear stopped. Skrimsli set off again and the bear followed. Skrimsli stopped again and then, to Skrimsli’s surprise, the bear spoke in his mind, not quite in words, not quite in pictures. Rather, the bear’s thoughts appeared like faint gleams of light that Skrimsli recognised, the way you would see a tree reflected in a rippling pond.
You kill Kobret! Karu the bear conveyed.
Kobret bad, Skrimsli replied in the same tree-reflection way. Cruel.
Kobret dead, Karu replied. Still in my head.
Karu began to shake his head.
Get out! he growled. You dead. Get out!
Now, Skrimsli understood. The memory of Kobret’s cruelty still lay like a shadow over his own mind. How much worse would it be for poor Karu who had suffered under the man’s control for so long?
The bear flopped down again, his back legs out in front of him, his forepaws in his ample lap and sighed. What do now? he asked.
It must have been a long, long time since Karu had been able to decide what to do for himself. What would they do now? Kobret and his circus had been horrible, but that was all that Skrimsli had ever known, perhaps Karu too. The question was a little frightening. But for now he had an answer that he knew was good.
Find Owl! he told the bear. You search that way. I go this.
Karu sighed, huffed, shook his head a bit then got up and began to lumber away upstream, sniffing the air and turning over objects with a deft paw. Skrimsli set off in the other direction. What would happen if they didn’t find Owl? No. He would not ask that yet. Now, he would hunt.
The river had washed all smells into one smell. Skrimsli had to paw at the piles of flotsam, and sniff at them close up to check that Owl wasn’t in among them. But of course, Skrimsli realised, if he was that tangled and that still, he would be dead. Skrimsli pushed the thought away and hurried on. There seemed to be nothing alive on this side of the river whereas, on the other, figures moved about and lamps burned. Perhaps he should swim there and look? He sniffed the breeze. There were many humans on that side, perhaps they would want to put him back in another box. No, he reasoned, if he and Karu had washed up on this bank then Owl would have done so too.
Skrimsli found nothing. After a while he turned round and went upstream to find Karu. At first Skrimsli thought the bear was once more staring into space, but he wasn’t. He was staring at a pair of boots, half buried in the mud. They were very small boots. Skrimsli hooked them with his claws and sunk his nose into them. Owl. Owl. He waded into the water to see if the boy was swimming nearby or clinging to some floating object. He dove and dove, but all was darkness down there.
Gone, the bear said in Skrimsli’s head. Gone.
With a snarl of sudden fury, Skrimsli knocked the bear over and grabbed his throat. You kill boy?
No!
Skrimsli could feel the truth of this. He let go of Karu and stood staring at him.
Boy gone, Karu’s thought said and he waved his snout out towards the river and upstream.
Gone. There. Water.
Skrimsli ejected Karu from his mind as sharply as the bear had at first pushed him away. He was tired, he was hungry, he was cold. He would not think these thoughts. He walked from the river and found a patch of scrubby trees where he curled up and burrowed himself into sleep.
Sunshine, warm on his fur, woke him. He opened his eyes. Karu was sitting close by, in that same oddly human way, back legs stretched out, front paws idle in his lap, big head lolling down. He didn’t look up as Skrimsli stretched, but he followed when the cub walked down to the edge of the water to drink. In broad daylight the edge of the water felt exposed and unsafe. They both slunk back into the shelter of trees and shadows as soon as they had drunk.
Skrimsli didn’t have to look to know that Owl was not anywhere here. His heart told him. The bear was right.
Gone, but what sort of gone? Gone dead, or just gone? Gone now? Or gone tomorrow too?
Gone now, that was enough. Skrimsli was alone. The circus was over. Kobret was dead, there was no one to fight, and no one to tell him what to do. Perhaps Owl would not stay gone, but right now Skrimsli had to decide for himself what to do, where to go. He felt as if a huge hole had opened up beneath his feet.
Karu came and stood close beside him. Long, long time Kobret keep me, Karu said. Like dead bear.
Skrimsli shuddered to think it was the fate he himself had only just escaped.
Now, the bear went on, I am alive.
Skrimsli felt warmth seep into his mind from the bear’s presence.
We are alive.
Karu lifted his nose into the breeze that still blew from the north and took a huge breath. Smell! Karu said. Smell!
Skrimsli did as the bear asked. He closed his eyes and pulled the air in through his nose. It contained many strands of information, scents of wet earth and vegetation, the traces of many, many kinds of living thing. The air was alive with details, none of which Skrimsli could identify; all of which he instantly wanted to know more about. He had jumped through the elephant’s eye and this was the first part of the big world that he had seen there.
Green, the bear said happily. Smell is green.
Green! Green was the place Skrimsli had shared with Owl. The green forest that filled his dreams. Owl’s voice came to Skrimsli.
‘The tiger and the sturgeon and the owl are the keepers of the forest. Each must speak to each to keep the forest whole.
‘That’s where we belong, Skrimsli, in that great, green forest in the north!’
If Owl was still alive that was where he would go.
Green smell from the north, said Karu.
Yes! We head north? Skrimsli asked.
We head north, Karu agreed.
Just like that, the decision was made. Together the bear and the tiger turned from the westward bend of the Shamanow river, heading north into the wind, towards the smell of the forest.
14
Kal and the Palatine
Silken Layers
The Palatine clung to Tiff’s body. She would not let the river have her. She wound the unravelling strands of her own clothing around the dead bodyguard to bind it to her. It was impossible to swim against the flood, so they floated together downstream. She grabbed at a floating door and managed with a huge effort to pull them both on top of it. It wasn’t exactly a raft, but it would at least hold them up in the water. She lay on her back and held onto Tiff with her right arm. Her left no longer seemed to be aware of what her brain was telling it.
Every now and then she caught a glimpse over the surface of the swirling water. Their door had been washed to the north side of the river but along the other shore she could see the yellow dots of lanterns and the silhouettes of people and animals. Rescuers had come from the Sand City to pull out survivors. Many of the audience had got out of the Big Top before it collapsed and had made it to the south bank. Perhaps the death toll of Yuderani wouldn’t be so bad.
She was very tired. Tiff had taken the first bullet but not the second. That one had pierced her own shoulder just below her left collar bone. Blood loss was making her confused. Where had that bullet come from? Oh, yes. She remembered. Kal! It was Kal! Why had Kal shot her? Something to do with her brother? Her mind drifted and wandered. She forgot for a moment why Tiff wasn’t moving and shook her, before remembering. They would both be dead soon. Two bodies drifting out into the ocean. Yalen would have his railway now. It would march across their land like a foul scar. She looked up into the night sky, where the remnants of the storm clouds trailed like torn scarves. High, high up a bird was wheeling against the background of the stars. Sayka! Sayka! Goodbye, dear friend, she told him; carry my heart from this broken world.
***
Despair would have washed Kal clean away even without the force of the flood. But Luja was a strong swimmer and very determined that they should both survive. As the water swept them off their feet, he had stepped from the shadows at the edge of Kal’s thoughts and said, Stay on my back. I will not allow you to drown.
He answered Kal’s surprise calmly. I have always been here with you and you with me, in our shared mind. Now, hold on to my neck!
The water was deep, cold, muddy and the darkness absolute but through it Kal felt the horse’s resolve and his love. It was not possible to decide to die in the face of such devotion. No matter how bad Kal felt, giving up was not an option.
The metal structure of the Big Top broke apart and shot down into the water around them. Under the water, stray ropes and swathes of canvas grabbed at their feet and tried to pull them under. All around in the darkness were sounds of tearing and breaking and the screams of humans and animals. Luja’s legs worked steadily. Hold on, he kept repeating. Hold on.
There had been another shot after Kal’s gun had fired. And then another. Perhaps more. Somewhere in their skintight costumes the twins had concealed their own guns. They’d fired to kill Kal but the shot had missed. Kal saw now what their plan was: Kal would kill the Palatine and then one of the ghosts would kill Kal. How neatly that would tie things off. ‘EREM TERRORIST SHOT WHILE ASSASSINATING PALATINE.’ The Nordskys and the Rumyc mercenaries could paint themselves as defenders of Yuderan as well as of Erem.
Luja’s pumping hooves had found solid ground at last. They could scrabble out and onto dry land. Kal let go of Luja’s neck and slithered to the ground.
Thank you, Kal told him.
He didn’t reply. Now the immediate threat of death had passed, he had melted back into the background noise of Kal’s thoughts.
Kal looked around. They were on the north bank of the river, quite a long way down from where the circus had stood. The lights of the city were in the distance to the right. Further upstream the yellow of lanterns dotted the shore where people were already searching for survivors. Kal sank down on the mud. The image of the blood spreading on the Palatine’s pale costume was printed on the darkness all around. The Palatine was Najma; Najma was the Palatine. How? How? Kal could not imagine.
Perhaps the ghosts had drowned. Kal hoped so. It would not bring Najma back, but it might mean that Roko and Havvity would be safe. There was no way to know. Luja’s soft nose rubbed the place on Kal’s head where the blood oozed. Kal raised a hand to the soft muzzle. He was exhausted from his swim. Kal owed him a little care: water, a fire for warmth at least.
Stay here, Luja, Kal told the horse. I’m going to see if anything useful has washed up.
Kal began to pick a path along the ragged strandline. Luja walked right behind.
Stubborn, Kal told him. Once again, the horse did not reply, just kept walking.
It was hard to see anything in the moonlight that flashed between the scudding clouds. Most of what had washed up was so mud-covered it was impossible to determine what it was. There were several bodies: a woman with a child in her arms, one of the jantevas. Kal checked each one for signs of life. There were none. Then they found Zait, the horse that Najma, the Palatine, had brought to the circus. He lay on his side, legs washing in the shallows, eyes closed. Luja sniffed at him, pushed at him with one hoof, and Zait’s eyes popped open. He struggled to his feet in a flurry of panic. For a moment Kal thought he would run off. But Luja seemed to calm him down, and the three of them continued on their way.
They found nothing useful and Kal decided it was best to head away from the river and find dry wood to make a fire. But as they turned their backs on the water, a thin, piercing cry came out of the sky. It made Kal’s hair stand on end. Whoever heard of an eagle flying in the night? It could only be Sayka! The huge bird dropped fast towards them, so fast that even Zait, who knew him well, whinnied in fear, and Luja did a little hoof-shifting dance of anxiety. The bird landed a short distance away and then walked towards them very purposefully. It looked ridiculous, lifting its feet over the muddy ground, its leg feathers like bedraggled skirts. It fixed Kal with a mad, yellow-eyed stare then flapped it wings in frustration. It walked away, walked back several times, until Kal realised it wanted them to follow! As soon as Kal began to walk after it, the bird took off, flapping as low and slow as possible and wheeling round to check that they were keeping up.
After a few minutes the bird gained height and vanished into the blue dark. Then it cried out again and flapped rapidly, out over the river, downstream, its silhouette just visible against the faint gleam of the surface. Eagles – especially giant ones – are not made for hovering but Sayka did his best. Kal peered at the water below where the eagle circled. Something pale was floating there. Could it be a long piece of fabric unravelling in the current? Cream silk even?
Kal leapt onto Luja’s back.
It’s Najma, Kal told him, in the water.
Luja didn’t need to be asked twice, exhausted as he was. He must have told Zait because the two of them picked up their heels and ran like the wind along the edge of the flood.
As they drew closer, Kal could make out some kind of raft on which two bodies lay: one wrapped in pale material; the other a dark silhouette. That had not happened by chance. Hope sprang up in Kal – perhaps Najma was not dead.
The current here was picking up, pulling the raft ever faster. In the distance. Kal could hear the roar of surf where the flood waters ran into the stormy sea. Luja understood what to do without being told. He plunged back into the river with Zait bravely beside them.
We need to get downstream of them, Kal cried.
The eagle too seemed to understand the plan. Flapping slowly, as close to the surface as he could, he tracked the progress of the raft.
Their progress was agonisingly slow; the current fought them every inch of the way, and the pale flash of the Palatine’s clothing appeared and disappeared in the dark turbulence of the water. For a moment Kal was convinced that they had missed their chance and would have to battle to the bank, gallop further downstream and try again. Then, there it was, the raft with the two insensible figures on it. Somehow Kal and Luja had manoeuvred exactly into it’s path.
The raft came closer, Kal reached out from Luja’s back towards it, ready to grasp it in whatever way was possible. But two horse lengths away, the current jinked the raft sideways, and the two figures slid off into the water and disappeared.
Kal jumped from Luja’s back. In seconds the Palatine would be washed downstream, lost in the dark of the river and then the infinite darkness of the sea. Desperately, Kal dived and dived, lungs bursting, heart breaking, trying to hold a place in the current. It was impossible to see anything under the water… Was that the flicker of something pale? Kal’s hand grabbed and found wet fabric. Using every last ounce of strength, Kal wound in the silk. Then, with the two horses on either side, they towed their catch back to the shore and dragged the two bodies out of the water at last. Najma – the Palatine – must have managed to wrap herself and the body of the guard in the silk of her clothing, a binding that had held them, for a time, on the raft.
There was light in the eastern sky now and it fell on the two faces, laid side by side. They were very alike, Kal noticed. Had the guard played the part of the Palatine while she had been Najma? There was a great difference between them now, however. The guard was dead; Kal saw that she must have taken the bullet that Kal had fired, through the heart. But her mistress was alive, and it was some comfort that the wound in her shoulder had not been caused by Kal’s bullet. Kal had fired only once; the other shots had come from the assassins. The Palatine was breathing, and there was a pulse, but it was no more than the beating of a moth’s wing.
Kal’s misery lifted! Here was purpose and a chance to save the life that the ghosts had plotted to destroy. First, the bullet must be removed: that required fire, water, and a knife.
The guard’s body furnished two knives and another search along the strandline revealed a metal pot. Dry kindling took longer to locate, but the spark struck with the knife from the river rock ate the grass hungrily and the warm flames grew.
The bullet wasn’t deep. It came out cleanly. Najma cried out when Kal cauterised the wound. But then she lay quiet. Her pulse was stronger, and her breathing deeper. She would live. She would live!
The dawn light grew brighter. The far bank was still a grey blur dotted with the yellow spots of lanterns but in the stillness voices carried. Someone was barking orders. Luja’s ears swivelled like a rabbit’s to catch them.
Find the Palatine!
The cry grew louder and was repeated along the bank.
Find the Palatine!
Who was searching? If the ghosts and their masters had survived, they would make sure their job was done properly this time. It wasn’t safe for the Palatine here. They would have to leave at once. Then came a thought: Kal’s own or Luja’s? Perhaps now it would always be impossible to tell. It didn’t matter. It was a very good thought.
You cannot kill what is already dead.
Kal looked at the dead guard and Najma. Yes, they were alike. Very alike.
