Spider Wars: Book Three of the Black Bead Chronicles (17 page)

“
There are millions of
people living on this world,” Megan said doubtfully. “We will all
starve to death if he keeps this up. Surely the Spacers would not
risk …”

“
There are thousands of
colonies,” Cheobawn said sadly. “So many that they could afford
to lose a few. I did not get the impression that Bohea put any great
value on the people of this planet.”

“
Collateral damage,” Tam
said, nodding. “A War Master can’t be afraid to lose a few
pieces.”

“
Goddess,” hissed Megan,
“can you be any colder? This is our own flesh and bone that we are
talking about.”

“
Bones and stones,”
crowed Connor, “and a ball of Maker’s thread, that’s what
little boys are made of.” The children’s rhyme made him giggle.

“
We need to get them out
of here,” Alain said pulling Connor to his feet. Connor tottered
towards Tam but he forgot he was two risers up and walked off the
edge like it wasn’t there. Megan leapt over the top of Tam and
Cheobawn, getting under him just in time. Tam was at her side in the
next moment and they lowered him to the floor. The fluid speed of
their motion had been breathtaking. Cheobawn resisted the urge to
clap in appreciation. Deep meditation and retreat seemed to have
served a secondary purpose.

“
What’s wrong with
Connor?” Cheobawn asked, standing up to peer down at him in the
dime light.

“
Father Father come
tumbling down,” sang Connor, “Mother’s kisses will bless your
crown.”

“
He’s just tired,” Tam
said, helping Megan get Connor to his feet. Connor closed one eye and
tried to see where his feet were, nearly tipping over again. Tam
opened the door and tugged him out into the cool vestibule where he
propped him up against the wall while filled a mug with water.

Megan and Alain shooed their
littlest packmate out of the sweet smoke. Cheobawn sucked in the
cool, clean air and tried to shake the fuzziness out of her head
while Alain opened the outer door and poked his head out to
reconnoiter.

“
All clear,” he said.
“Stay in the shadows. Don’t stop to dress. Just grab your stuff
and run. Tell Eban that the healers must have forgotten you. Walk
away until you are out of his sight then head to the Pack Hall.”

“
Wait,” Cheobawn said,
confused, “What are we supposed to do about the ice demons?”

“
You are an Ear, Ch’che,”
Megan said as she brushed her little friend’s sweat-soaked curls
off her face. “You have reported to your Pack. Your duty has ended.
Connor needs to take that report to the duty officer. Let the Elders
deal with it.”

“
And stay inside the dome
tomorrow,” Tam said, pouring what water Connor did not drink over
the top of his head. Connor gasped and shook his sodden hair,
showering all of them.

Cheobawn pressed her lips
together. This was not the answer she wanted to hear.

Eban
stared suspiciously down at the two shivering kids who had just
wormed their way through the opening in the great doors of the West
Gate. They had only been able to slip into the first thin layer of
their silk underwear before the door opened. Neither had had time to
put on their boots or riding leathers.

“
You are supposed to get
dressed
before
you leave the hut,” he said in exasperation.
“And why would a healer send you out for smoke therapy and not
check up on your progress? Are you sure they know you are here?”

They both did their best to
look innocent and forlorn. Cheobawn even managed to sigh sadly.
Connor’s face was oddly rubbery; he was having a hard time keeping
his mouth from sliding down into a grotesque caricature of sadness.

“
They were awfully busy,”
Cheobawn said as she accidentally on purpose shoved her elbow into
Connors ribs as hard as she could. “What with the drovers and
wranglers coming in from the cold. We were the worst so they sent us
off first. Maybe they forgot.”

Connor scowled at her as he
rubbed his side.

“
Let me call the
infirmary. They will send someone to pick you up,” Eban said,
picking up his com unit.

“
Don’t do that. It will
make them look bad, forgetting us, I mean,” she said hastily. “I
don’t want to get them in trouble with Amabel. Do you think we
could borrow a cart? I don’t think Connor is feeling well.”

“
You are too short to
drive a cart, Little Mother. Connor? What about you?”

“
Hmm?” Connor asked, his
eyebrows sliding too high on his forehead.

“
Are you well enough to
drive a cart?” Eban asked, his annoyance rising.

“
Not a problem,” Connor
nodded looking around for the cart, confused by its absence.

Eban studied him for a
moment and then threw up his hands and went to get their
transportation.

“
Pull it together,”
Cheobawn spat softly at her packmate. “Just a bit longer and you
can sleep this off.”

“
Are you hungry?” he
asked. “I am starving. Let’s go to dinner. Nedella was making
apple crisp this morning. You could smell it all over the dome.”

Cheobawn’s mouth watered
at the thought. Lunch had been trail rations in the stable yard and
tea had been crackers and ice cold water on the back of a bennelk.
She glanced up at the chronometer set in the gate post.

“
Dinner is over but it is
Restday. Celia had a music program scheduled for the after-dinner
players so the dining hall should still be open. If we sneak in the
back way maybe Nedella will take pity on us and feed us.”

“
I could eat an entire
grunter all by myself,” Connor said fervently. “Let’s go.”

Cheobawn grabbed the back of
his silk undershirt as he headed away.

“
Let’s wait for the
cart. We will get there faster,” she suggested helpfully.

Connor’s driving was just
as frightening as Gudu’s. He misjudged his speed at the end as they
skidded to a halt behind the dining hall, the wheels slamming against
a stone curb with a teeth jarring crunch. Connor leapt out of the
cart and raced into the kitchen. Cheobawn unlocked her fingers from
the frame of the cart and raced after him. They stumbled to a halt
just past the walk-in cold rooms, their laughter dying in their
throats. Nedella and a handful of her apprentices were wiping down
the counters, taking the last few swipes over the spotless
countertops before shutting the kitchen for the night. The looks
turned their way were frigid.

“
What are you doing in my
kitchen?” Nedella asked evenly. “Why are you dressed like that?
Do you know half the dome is looking for you two? Where have you
been?”

“
Smoked and hung up to
dry,” Connor said. “Boiled and basted and cooked until done.”

“
Uh, what he means is we
got a cough on the foray this afternoon,” Cheobawn said hastily as
Nedella opened her mouth to yell at Connor’s insolence. “So we
took a sweat bath with menthaleaf 'cause Bre’en said it might help
but we fell asleep and I think there was something more than
menthaleaf in the leaves we threw on the rocks and my head is all
foggy but we missed dinner. I think we are dying of starvation. Is
that possible?” Cheobawn ran out of breath. Nedella studied her
face, a frown between her brows. There was a scattering of laughter
behind her.

“
Oh, goddess,” one of
the apprentices said behind her hand. “They got into the temple’s
stock.” Nedella hushed her with a look.

“
No, I don’t think you
can starve to death by missing just one meal,” she said dryly as
she took Connor’s chin in her hands and studied his eyes. “Who
was on duty at the West Gate? Letting you go out to the saunas
unsupervised. Honestly, the carelessness just …“

Her caustic opinions about
gate guards continued as she took their hands and led them to a small
table set off in a corner. “It would probably be best to feed you
before I tell Hayrald where you are, otherwise you won’t eat until
tomorrow.”

Connor waited for Nedella to
head towards the cold storage rooms before he grinned at Cheobawn
across the table.

“
It worked,” he
whispered a little too loudly. Nedella paused but continued on,
choosing to ignore him.

The apprentices managed to
scrounge up two enormous plates of food. Miraculously, it was still
warm. Best of all, there were the two bowls of apple crisp topped
with a generous dollop of clotted cream. Connor and Cheobawn started
eating the dessert first, shoving it in as fast as they could
swallow.

“
Slow down. Chew,”
Nedella said. “I am going to go find Hayrald. I’ll walk slowly to
give you time to finish.”

Cheobawn watched the Master
Chef leave her kitchen. She followed her progress out of the corner
of her eye and when the Nedella was gone she put down her fork.
Connor said something around a mouthful of food.

“
What?” Cheobawn asked,
pushing her chair away from the table.

Connor swallowed and
repeated himself.

“
You gonna eat that apple
crisp?”

Cheobawn looked down at the
table full of food, her thoughts running circles. Suddenly queasy,
she shoved her bowl over to his side of the table.

“
All yours,” she said.
“Listen, Connor, you have to cover for me, OK?”

“
Mnnfff?” he said around
another mouthful of crisp and cream.

“
Can you focus or is your
head still full of smoke?” she hissed.

“
I love smoke,” Connor
said, “but I love Nedella more. This is the best thing I ever ate.”

“
I know,” Cheobawn said,
patting his hand distractedly.

A thought that had hatched
in the back of her head during her conversation with Sigrid tumbled
out of its shell into the front of her brain and grew wings, now a
fully fledged plan. It did no good to think too hard about such
impulses, she knew, because she would talk herself out of going and
regret it afterward.

“
OK, listen carefully,”
Cheobawn said, her voice low, her words quick and concise. “I am
going to the infirmary. I want to check on Sigrid. I need to talk to
Erin and I think she might be there with him. So when Hayrald comes,
tell him I am at the infirmary and I will be right back, got it?”

“
Got it,” Connor said
his eyes half closed, blissfully chewing.

“
Repeat it back.
Infirmary, Sigrid, Erin.”

“
Sigrid and Erin,”
Connor said crossly, “I got it. Got it.”

Cheobawn rose and ran down
the passageway to the back door. Connor would probably forget but it
was the best she could do on such short notice. She paused at the
cart and grabbed her leathers, sliding into them as she eased up the
side of the dining hall. At the corner of the building she paused and
studied the central plaza. The dark leathers would cover the pale
silk underwear, making her less noticeable in the lamp light around
the fountain.

She waited for a group of
elders to pass, late for the evening’s entertainment. After they
disappeared into the front of the dining hall, she crouched low and
ran across the War battlefield, using the ranks of game pieces as
cover. She reached the last battalion of warriors at the edge of the
great circle and checked to see who was near. Nothing moved. Cheobawn
rose and sprinted the last little distance, running through the
garden and up the stairs to her apartments, taking them two at a
time. At the top she threw herself flat against the wall and held her
breath, listening. All was quiet. No one had seen her.

She opened the door and
slipped inside. Again she stopped and listened. Her house was dark
and silent. Cheobawn closed her eyes and held her breath once more.
The air was still, the ambient empty. She listened harder, trying to
feel the spaces around the silence. For some reason she became
convinced that the house was truly empty, though in her experience
she had never been able to detect the Coven in the ambient before
now. One had to trust something. She had to trust her own gut
feelings. She had to assume that the house stood empty.

Cheobawn pushed herself away
from the door and launched herself across the foyer and down the hall
to Mora’s office door. In one swift, practiced motion, she had the
door open just wide enough to squeeze in before closing it behind
her. She caught it right before the door touched the frame, slowing
its swing so that you could barely hear the latch snick back into
place. She paused there, waiting for her heart to stop pounding in
her chest, waiting for the sweat to dry on her skin, waiting for the
ambient to clear of the fear she had been bleeding out of every pore.