FROM THE SETTLEMENT called Discovery, Jasik rode north and east through the mountains instead of keeping to the lowlands. This way was more rugged and difficult, but it was a much shorter route to the valley at the foot of the Blueclouds, and it was safer for him to avoid the areas where settlers lived. His horse Iji was more than equal to the demand, and they made good time.
As he traveled through the mountains, he told his story to the clans he passed, warning them to keep their children close and safe and to not let themselves be provoked into attacking the settlers. He also told them that any Grana wizards found in A’ayimat territory, except for the one called Lainie Vendine, the wizard woman whose power was born of this land, and her husband should be captured and questioned and not let go.
Every morning, noon, and night on his journey, he prayed to his gods and to the Grana gods he’d heard the Vendines mention, and any other gods who might care to listen, for the safety of his own wife and children. There were none left to seek vengeance against his people in the town his clan had destroyed, but Vendine had said that settlers in other towns were talking about striking back at the A’ayimat.
Ten days of hard riding brought him to the valley that the settlers called Bentwood. He gave the settlement a wide berth, keeping to the foothills to the west then circling around north of the town to where Vendine had told him the BeeSeeCrown ranch lay. Jasik was curious to see the rancher’s half-A’ayimat, half-Grana daughter. He wasn’t one of those who said it was impossible for Grana folk and the A’ayimat to breed, but he wanted to see for himself if it really was possible. He hoped the poor child didn’t look too strange. And he hoped Vendine was right, that this Grana man who had lain with an A’ayimat woman and who was raising his half-A’ayimat child would listen to him instead of shooting him on sight.
This early in the day, the Bluecloud Mountains were still casting their morning shadows across the snow-covered valley. Looking east, Jasik spotted a group of structures built in the settlers’ fashion standing in the midst of a cluster of pine trees. That must be the ranch.
He headed down into the valley and rode towards the structures. Soon, he passed some markers which he guessed showed the boundary of the ranch, and indeed, carved into one of the wooden posts were the symbols Vendine had shown him that indicated the BeeSeeCrown.
As he rode across the open, snowy grassland, two Grana men approached him on horseback. Jasik reined Iji to a halt and dismounted; the A’ayimat put it about that they considered it rude to converse from horseback, though the truth was that being in contact with the ground was what allowed them to pick up the Granas’ language through the flow of magic beneath the earth. He stood beside Iji, holding his arms out wide and empty-handed, in a gesture that in any language meant his intentions were peaceful, and extended his magic down into the earth.
The men came to a stop a distance of five or six man-lengths from Jasik, both of them pointing short firearms at him. One of them shouted at him, then the other one spoke to his companion. They both dismounted, then aimed their weapons at him again. “What’s your business here?” the first one demanded.
Jasik kept his arms spread wide. “My name is Jasik. I have a message for Brin Coltor from Silas Vendine.”
The men carried out a brief, quiet, but intense conversation with each other, then nodded. “Come with us,” the first man said. “If you make any trouble, we’ll shoot.”
“I understand,” Jasik said.
All three of them mounted up, then the Grana men flanked Jasik and accompanied him to the group of structures among the trees. An older man carrying a long firearm came running out from the largest one, a white-painted structure that Jasik supposed was Coltor’s dwelling. One of the men with Jasik shouted something to the man; Jasik made out his own name and the words Coltor, message, and Vendine. The older man nodded and went back into the dwelling.
The men with Jasik dismounted, and, at a sign from them, Jasik did so as well. A boy came over from another structure, that wasn’t as large and fine-looking as the dwelling, and took their horses. He glanced at Jasik. “Should I take the blueskin’s horse, too?” he asked the men.
“I would be grateful,” Jasik said to the horseboy. “We’ve traveled hard for ten days.”
The boy’s eyes widened in shock. “You understand me!”
Jasik smiled at his surprise. Most settlers knew little about the A’ayimat; the first man who had spoken to him had had to be told to dismount from his horse. But some secrets were meant to be kept, including how the A’ayimat were able to understand any language spoken to them. “I’ve learned some of your language, yes.”
“Oh.” Then the boy’s face reddened, showing embarrassment. The color change looked alarming on the fair skin, but Jasik had learned in his dealings with the Vendines and the folk in Discovery that it was perfectly normal when embarrassed or angry. “I didn’t mean no offense, not askin’ you yourself,” the boy said. “I didn’t think you would understand me.”
“No offense taken. Thank you for caring for my horse.”
The boy grinned. “Wait till I tell Betta I talked to a real blueskin!” He took the horses’ reins and led them towards the plainer structure he had come from. Jasik smiled again as he watched them go; “Betta,” as far as he could tell, seemed to refer to a pretty girl about the boy’s age. Some things were the same no matter what people one was born to or the color of one’s skin.
A large man, darker than most settlers but not as dark as Vendine, with thick black whiskers growing above his lip and the shadow of more whiskers on his cheeks and chin, came out of the dwelling. He stepped down from the wide wooden platform in front of the dwelling onto the ground, then spoke. “You have a message from Vendine?”
“You are Mister Brin Coltor?” Jasik asked.
“That’s me. It’s cold out here; shall we go inside?”
Jasik nodded, and Coltor led him into the dwelling. He looked around curiously; he had never been in a settler’s home before. It was far larger than the largest tent, built of wood and blocks of dried, baked mud, and divided into different areas, each apparently with its own purpose. Coltor led him into an area where a strong fire was burning in a hearth set into the wall, and invited him to sit on one of the cloth-covered sitting pads raised up on wooden legs. He perched on the edge of his seat, aware of his travel-filthy clothes on the beautifully-woven white cloth covering.
Coltor took another seat, facing him. “I have to say, given the circumstances, I didn’t expect Vendine to send an A’ayimat. What’s the message?”
Reaching through the floor of the dwelling into the ground made drawing the words more difficult, like Jasik’s head was stuffed full of wool. Straining for words, filling them in as best he could with as much of the Grana language as he had learned, he told the sorrowful tale of the tragedy that had befallen his clan and their avenging attack on the town called Stone Creek, and how he had realized they had been manipulated into attacking the town. He told of meeting Vendine in the ruined town, and related what the Vendines had learned at Thornwood.
As Jasik spoke of the dreadful crimes that had been committed against A’ayimat children, Coltor’s thick, heavy brows drew together and his lips pressed flat in an angry line. He hissed a few words under his breath, dire curses in a language other than the Grana tongue.
An older woman – a servant, by her manner; she didn’t behave with the command and confidence of a matron of the house, and, as far as Jasik knew, the settlers didn’t keep slaves – brought in a platter of cold sliced meats, a strange, fluffy kind of bread, and an indescribable but not entirely unpleasant substance which he learned was called cheese. There was also a pot of the hot medicinal tea that the settlers called chickroot and drank as a nourishing beverage. Hungry after riding since before dawn to get here, Jasik devoured the food and drink as he continued with his story. He concluded with the situation in Discovery and what the Vendines had learned about the Hidden Council’s plans. “We know Bentwood Gulch is one of the towns they planned to take over,” he said.
“Damn,” Coltor said. “They’re already here. Three men came into town the day before yesterday, offering protection against your people. They were only interested in speaking to the mayor and the sheriff. I was run off and barred from the meetings. As far as I know, they’re still negotiating, but there’s rumors I don’t like, of rules like the ones you’re telling me about in Discovery, and other such things.”
A woman with golden hair and fair skin, whose belly was gently rounded with child, had come into the room while Jasik was speaking. “This is Brin’s town,” she said, her cheeks reddening like the boy’s but with anger. “He made Bentwood Gulch what it is. If anyone’s respected in this town, if anyone has the right to speak for it and make decisions for it, it’s him. But these strangers came into town with their ridiculous promises – how can they claim to know more about the A’ayimat than anyone else, especially Brin? And those idiots Warrit and Foreston showed him out the door and won’t let him have part in any of it.”
“But now you know the truth about these men,” Jasik said. “If you go to the mayor and the sheriff and tell them, will they listen to you?”
Coltor was silent for a long moment, his brows drawn in deep thought. Then he stood, a hard look on his face that made Jasik very glad that Coltor wasn’t his enemy. “Damn right they’ll listen to me,” Coltor said. “And I’ll make them listen to you, too, Jasik. If you’ll come with me, that is.”
Jasik stood as well. It was dangerous for him to go into the town armed and ready for a fight. But if he died to stop these evil, murdering wizards, to atone for his people’s sins and his own, and to prevent more suffering, then he would die gladly. “I’ll come with you.”
“Good. We’ll drive those sheepknocking bastards out of my town and down to the hells where they belong.”
Jasik traced the meanings of the Grana phrases. “Sheepknocking bastards” was a favorite of Vendine’s, and the meaning it suggested was deeply insulting and bizarrely amusing at the same time. The concept of “hells” wasn’t entirely unfamiliar; though the A’ayimat knew different gods and a different afterlife than the Grana folk did, eternal punishment for the wicked was a truth that transcended customs and beliefs. On the whole, he agreed with Coltor’s feelings and intentions. He grinned. “We’ll do that.”
“Brinna, please fetch my gunbelts and revolvers,” Coltor said.
“Yes, dear.”
While the golden-haired woman was gone, a child ran into the room. She had A’ayimat skin, but her white hair was done in long curls instead of braids and she wore a dress in the style of the settler women. She stopped and stared at Jasik through eyes that were strangely dark instead of A’ayimat gold. Coltor’s eyes, as Vendine had said. They would have been eerie, almost frightening, except for the life sparkling in them.
The girl gave Jasik a gap-toothed grin. “You and my papa are going to stop the wicked men,” she said in the A’ayimat tongue.
“That we are going to do, daughter,” Jasik replied, also in his own language. Despite the eyes and the curls and the dress, she reminded him of his own daughters with her smile and her spirit.
She turned to Coltor. “You show them, Pa!” she said in the Grana language.
Coltor picked her up, and she kissed his cheeks. He kissed her forehead in return. “I’ll show them. You be good while I’m gone.”
“I’m always good.” At least, that was what Jasik thought she said, since she wasn’t in contact with the ground. It was what his own daughters would have said.
Coltor laughed and set her down with an affectionate pat on the head. His wife had returned and now stood next to him, holding two belts, each with a short firearm tucked into the pocket. She handed him the belts one at a time, and he fastened them around his hips.
“Be careful, dear,” she said. “Do what you have to do, but please be careful.”
A long look passed between them. Jasik looked away, out of respect for the couple’s emotions.
“I will,” Coltor finally said. He kissed his wife, then caught her and his daughter into an embrace. The three of them clung tightly to each other for a long time. Jasik’s heart warmed to see the Grana woman holding the half-A’ayimat girl as if she were her own child. Had the girl’s mother’s clan been so welcoming of the child? It shamed him on behalf of his people to think perhaps not, if the girl was living here. Or perhaps the mother had died. Of course, there was no polite way to ask.
“Remember,” Coltor said, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m doing this to keep the Wildings a good place for all of us to live,” He loosened his embrace and kissed his wife and daughter one more time. “Keep the chickroot brew hot for me, Brinna,” he said with a smile and wink at his wife. “This shouldn’t take long.”