Rebel Ice (20 page)

"This is nonsense. I owe my life to this woman, Father." Aktwar gently lowered the ensleg's body to the furs covering the floor. "She had no reason to help me. She is ensleg. It would not have surprised me if she had stood and watched that ptar kill me."

"My son, she may have meant to hurt you, and killed the ptar through clumsiness," Sogayi said in a low, hesitant voice. "Or perhaps she did this thing to gain your trust, knowing you would bring her back among the tribe, where she might use her weapon again, but this time on the living."

"That is enough." Hearing such scheming words coming from his beloved's mouth made Navn feel sick. To his son, he said, "If she saved you by any other means, Aktwar, I could reward her."

Sogayi nodded sadly. "That would have been the proper thing for her to do. There is nothing more glorious than for a woman to give her life so that a man may live."

"If this thing is to be done," Aktwar said, his voice harsher than Navn had ever heard it, "then it will be merciful, and by my hand." He drew his blade and crouched by the ensleg, lifting her chin.

"No." Navn thought of Sverrul's tales of the vral, and concealed his terror at the prospect of watching his son slash the ensleg's throat.
If he does so and she will not die
… "There is the other punishment."

Aktwar frowned. "What other?"

"Sogayi, leave us." Navn waited until his wife was gone before he told his son, "She will be taken out of the camp."

"It is not more merciful to allow her to slowly freeze to death," Aktwar snapped.

"She will be cast out." Navn turned away so he no longer had to look upon the ensleg. "She will be made skela."

Chapter Eleven

Skjæera did not need to sleep as the other skela did, and so she was the first to hear the skimmers as they landed. She recognized the sound of the propulsion devices that made them fly, and heard the heavy footsteps of the hunters. She did not rouse the head-woman. Hunters who brought the skela's portion of the meat came only to drop it outside, so the sound was ordinary to her ears. Only when a shout rang out did it startle her and wake Daneeb.

"What is it?" Daneeb came out of the crawl, already wearing her day garments.

Skjæera thought for a moment, trying to recapture the memory of the sound. Recently she had begun remembering things, but only when it served her own purpose. Rarely did anything interest her enough to trouble herself. Even speaking still seemed unnecessary most of the time.

The headwoman went to the view hole. "Skimmers," Daneeb said. "Too many. Stay here." She jerked on her outfurs and hurried out into the bitter cold.

Skjæera paid no further attention to the matter, and went back to contemplating the amber red light of the heatarc. The beautiful colors changed constantly, blending and reblending into new shades. She could see a tiny universe of heat and light in the heatarc, and it was seductive. She could not bring herself to go too near it, not since the explosion, but she could sit and watch it for days. She would have done so, many times, if the sisters had left her alone.

On the ice I was born, and on the ice I will die, but this entire world will never be as lovely as this

Solitude and silence were not to be hers now, it seemed, for Daneeb returned and shouted for all the sisters to rouse themselves. Skjæera rose to retrieve her outfurs. "No," Daneeb said, and pointed to Skjæera's crawl. "You have not slept."

She did not respond, but simply looked at the head-woman and waited for the rest of it. "I know what you are thinking, and I tell you again: no." Daneeb's face darkened as some of the sisters stopped dressing to watch them. "You will obey me here, Skjæera. You will go into your crawl, stay there, and sleep. Go now."

Skjæera thought of walking past Daneeb and outside to see what the hunters wanted. She thought of climbing into her crawl. Decisions, too, were not an easy matter for her.

Daneeb gave her a different look, the one that begged without words. Skjæera went to her crawl, climbed in, and waited in the dark narrow space until she heard Daneeb and the other sisters leave. When they had gone, she climbed back out and dressed.

Outside it was still dark, and the cold had sharp teeth. Skjæera pulled up her hood to conceal her face and scanned the front of the skela's caves. A group of men stood before the sisters. A small bundle of cloth lay in the snow between them.

"If she fails," the lead hunter was telling Daneeb, "you may do as you wish with her." Skjæera liked hunters. They did not taunt and curse the skela as the gjenvin often did, perhaps because

they understood that the skela, too, served a purpose on this world. Mostly the hunters brought them a portion of the meat the skela butchered for them and otherwise left them alone. People who left her alone were always in favor with Skjæera. She often regretted not living among the

hunters. "As you say, Kheder." Daneeb bowed her head. The men moved away, mounted their skimmers, and flew up into the sky. Daneeb snapped out orders

for two of the sisters to help her lift and carry the bundle inside. Skjæera smelled blood, saw dark stain lines on the cloth, and followed. The skela did not carry the bundle to the lidded square pit in the ice where they kept their meat, but

instead carried it into a portion of the cave they rarely used for anything but storage of extra furs. The sisters placed the bundle gently on the floor of the cave, and furs were brought even as Daneeb

unwrapped the cloth. Skjæera frowned as a woman's face appeared uncovered. She knew that face. She knew… but she did not know. She could not be sure. It did not seem worth the time or pain to try to remember. For a long time no one said anything. The sisters stared at the woman, and the woman stared back at

them. The woman was pale and her expression was one of wariness and concealed fear. The sisters simply seemed shocked.

"Close your mouth," Daneeb snapped. She turned back to address the strange woman, who was looking at everyone with visible bewilderment. "Do you know where you are?"

"No."

"What is your name?"

"Resa."

Daneeb said nothing, and Skjæera thought she might be shocked now, too. The tension of her body, the way her gaze would not settle, the manner in which she bit the inside of her lip—all signs that the headwoman felt disturbed, possibly even threatened.

The silence did give Skjæera time to turn the name over and over in her mind, which sometimes brought the memories back to her without much pain.
Resa. Resa. Resa
. She knew no one called that name.

"What this place?" the woman asked. She spoke as if unsure of the words.

She does not speak our language
. Skjæera remembered the fair-haired ensleg man whose face she had repaired.
Like him
.

"This is the dwelling place of the skela who serve Iiskar Navn. You have been cast out. Your once-life there is over." Daneeb bent to wrap furs around the woman's shivering form, and then stepped back. "You must show that you are worthy to join us."

Malmi surged forward. "No, Skrie, please, do not make her—"

Daneeb slapped the skela's face with her bare hand before she addressed the strange woman again. "Are you prepared to show your worth?"

Resa struggled to stand, and pulled the furs around her tightly. "Yes."

"Callai, Fren, Opalas," Daneeb called out. "Bring the choices."

The three skela left the area. The remaining women drew back, taking places against the wall and leaving their headwoman and Resa standing facing each other in the center of the floor. Skjæera took the opportunity to slip back to the cave to retrieve her pack of medical supplies. As soon as Daneeb finished tormenting the woman, she would need her wounds attended to. On her way back, Skjæera saw Callai and Fren dragging a fresh carcass in from the butchering room, while Opalas carried a box from the salvage pile.

"Put them before her," Daneeb said when the three skela returned, and the box and the carcass were set on the floor before Resa.

Skjæera checked her pack to see if she had the proper antiseptic and ointments. From the way the woman was holding herself, she had back injuries. The bleeding through the cloth did not appear to be significant, but she would have to examine the wounds. Skjæera felt a strong surge of impatience with whatever game Daneeb was playing with the stranger. She knew the skela had their ways of deciding things, but the head-woman had better hurry up with it. Resa was in pain.

"Before you are two choices," Daneeb told Resa, and pointed to the box. "In that are rations from an Resa eyed the box, and then the carcass. She swallowed a few times before she crouched down and took the blade from the dead animal. She stared at it, and held it out like an offering. "Hunters beat me for touching, using blade." She produced a strange smile. "I use blade to save hunter life."

Malmi turned away and made a strangled sound. Daneeb said nothing.

Resa studied the faces around her for a long time before she crouched and began cutting open the belly of the carcass. Her hands moved easily and with considerable skill.

Skjæera pushed some of the other skela out of her way to go to Resa. She pulled the woman's hands away from the carcass and looked up at Daneeb. Skjæera took the knife from Resa and put it aside, and then tugged down the furs covering her back.

"Are you healer?" Resa asked her.

Skjæera's native language was not Iisleg, so it had taken her some time to learn it after she had come to join the skela. She sometimes practiced it when she was alone or with the jlorra, mimicking the intonations of the other women until she could speak as fluently as any of them. She didn't know why, but it seemed important, as if part of her knew she would have to speak to them someday.

Perhaps Resa's arrival meant the time for silence had come to an end.

"I am." Skjæera turned Resa gently so that her back faced her. "Were you whipped?"

Daneeb gaped at her. "What did you say?"

"I was." Resa, too, stared at her. "How did you know?"

Skjæera wasn't sure, exactly. The blood on the cloth could have come from any part of her body. "I guessed." She glanced up at the headwoman. "I am a healer."

"So you are." Daneeb gestured to the other skela with a hand that shook. "Take away the choices. The rest of you, go back to the crawls." When everyone had cleared out except the headwoman, Resa, and Skjæera, Daneeb came to crouch beside them. "Tell us what happened to you."

"I use blade, kill ptar, save hunter. They beat me, cast me out." Resa shrugged out of the furs and unwound the ragged cloth around her body until her back was exposed. "Not beat me much. Cold make feel better."

"Daneeb, fetch some warm, clean water," Skjæera told the headwoman as she gently peeled back the cloth clinging to the fresh lash marks. "I will try not to hurt you, but these must be cleaned and sealed, or they will fester."

Resa nodded.

Daneeb was staring at Skjæera with wide eyes. "You are speaking as if—"

"My tongue has always functioned. I cannot say the same for your ears." She noted the depth of the weals and which would have to be sutured. "Daneeb, I still need that water."

"I smell. No clean myself long time." Resa turned around and touched the edge of Skjæera's face wrap. "Why wear? No men here see you."

Skjæera did not show her face before strangers, and she had hidden it for so long that she never felt at ease with it exposed. Keeping it covered made the sisters feel more at ease, too, and she had to wear the mask when she did the work.

But Resa had pleased Daneeb with her choice, and would be one of the skela now.

Skjæera pulled back the wrap and exposed her face. At first Resa's eyes widened, and then she touched Skjæera's cheek. "You look like me."

Something happened in that moment. Skjæera was not sure precisely what, but feeling Resa's hand on her cheek made her head swim. She looked into the other woman's eyes and saw the same confusion.

"Who are you?" Resa asked softly.

There was an answer to that, but Skjæera did not want to go into the place in her head where it was waiting. That place was filled with pain, and not just her own. Pain that no one should see, no one should feel.

Skjæera placed her hand over Resa's and pressed it to her face.

The crash. The cold. The child. The weapon. The light. The pain.

The vagueness that had embraced her for so long abruptly dissolved, and Skjæera saw Resa clearly. The eyes, the nose, the mouth—they were all the same. She remembered exactly who Resa was now.

No wonder Daneeb had acted so strangely. She had known this woman for two years. They all had. Resa's was the first life Skjæera had saved since becoming skela. She had operated on her, repairing the damage from the terrible head wound she had suffered. Resa's body had slowly recovered, but her mind had not. The wound had induced madness to a degree that Resa had to be restrained. Skjæera had kept Daneeb from killing Resa, and instead had nursed her for months, trying to bring her back to sanity. Then, one day, Resa had somehow freed herself from her chains and walked out onto the ice.

Since losing Resa, Skjæera had cared little for anything but the work of saving others. Now she had returned, and what did that mean?
What do I say to you? Why have you come back to me? Why don't you recognize any of us? Why did you run away? Why are you still alive
?

"Who are you?" Resa repeated, more insistently now.

"Jarn," Daneeb said as she rejoined them. She set down a basin of meltwater. "Her name is Jarn."

Skjæera glanced at the headwoman. "I am called Skjæera."

"You are
Jarn
, and you will
answer
to your
name
," Daneeb said, her tone ominous. "Now that you have found your tongue, it is time you stopped living as if you occupy another world and the one where the rest of us dwell does not exist."

"Jarn is pretty name," Resa said politely. Her gaze moved from Daneeb to Skjæera, unsure.

Skjæera
meant "Death Bringer," and she certainly was not that. Now that she remembered everything, even those things that made her want to scream until her throat swelled shut, she could not return to the It would keep Resa safe, too.