Spider Wars: Book Three of the Black Bead Chronicles (31 page)

“
Hayrald wanted to cut it
off,” Cheobawn said as she dumped the remaining pudding into the
compote and began eating it with gusto. “Amabel wouldn’t let
them.”

“
That’s disgusting,”
Connor said with a grimace. She wasn’t sure if he meant the thought
of amputating her arm or the weird combination of flavors.

“
You aren’t the one they
are trying to starve to death,” she said between bites.

“
Well, anyway,” he
continued, “while you were up here dying, Mora had everyone in the
dome go out after the storm ended and hunt for spider eggs. Finn even
rigged an egg finder out of a handful of bloodstones and a med unit
which worked pretty well. It could pick up the resonance frequencies
of the baby spider brains even under a couple of feet of snow. We
stockpiled them in the waterworks dome until they could figure out a
safe way to dispose of them. Fire seems to work best. They have been
burning them in the furnaces of the Foundry pretty much non-stop
since midweek.”

Cheobawn put her spoon down
and closed her eyes, fighting the urge to cry.

“
It’s OK,” Connor said
gently as he patted her arm.

Cheobawn threw her spoon at
him. He batted it away without flinching.

“
It is not OK,” she
shouted. “None of this is OK!” Cheobawn shoved the bed-tray away,
splashing soup and tea everywhere. She slid out of bed and tottered
over to the row of cupboards along the far wall. One after another
she threw them open and rummaged through the contents.

“
What are you doing?”
Connor asked.

“
I am going to get dressed
and then I am going to go outside to go egg hunting. I will save all
I can from the fires and then after that …” she growled, “well,
I don’t know what I will do after that. I am sure I will think of
something.”

“
Come back to bed,”
Connor said, pulling the doors to the cupboard out of her hands.
“I’ll go get you some clothes. We can go for a walk in the plaza
and get some sun, what do you say?”

“
Terrible things are going
to happen if we can’t save the babies,” Cheobawn insisted,
grabbing his arms to hold him still. How could she make him
understand the urgency of this situation?

“
I know,” he said. “Calm
down. Come out to the plaza. We can walk and talk freely and you can
watch the War matches.”

“
I don’t care about
games,” she shouted, “I care …”

Connor flicked his fingers
in the sign that meant
silence
but the hand gesture slid
almost immediately into a chin scratch and a slight roll of the eyes.
Cheobawn closed her eyes. Someone was behind her, having come in
unnoticed as she was yelling at her packmate. She turned. Amabel
stood in the doorway, a small pile of clothing topped by a pair of
dome slippers in her hands, an inscrutable look on her face. Cheobawn
wondered how long she had been standing outside the door and how much
she had heard.

“
Mother,” Cheobawn and
Connor said politely.

“
Already stirring up
trouble for your Pack, I see.” Amabel grunted, handing the clothes
to Connor. “This last week has been the only peace I have had since
you were born. I had forgotten what it was like. Mind what I said,
young Father.”

Turning to leave, Amabel
paused and met Cheobawn’s eyes. Cheobawn did not flinch away from
that inspection, returning her Mother’s gaze curiously. Zeff had
rewritten her own personal history with his words somehow. Even
Amabel’s disapproval could be seen in a different light.

Amabel opened her mouth to
say something. Cheobawn waited. Amabel scowled, perhaps nonplussed by
Cheobawn’s look of encouragement. The Maker snorted, turned on her
heel, and left, her skirts swishing in her wake.

“
Wow. She was almost …”
Connor said.

“
Nice?” Cheobawn asked,
retrieving the clothes from Connor’s arms.

“
I wouldn’t go that
far,” Connor mused. “I was going to say human.”

“
What did she mean about
minding what she said?” Cheobawn asked shaking out the tunic. It
was too long and there were no pants. “What is this? I can’t wear
this.”

“
It’s called a dress,”
Connor said patiently. “Girls wear them on Restday.”

“
I don’t
. It’s
pink. And covered with flowers. Go find me some pants,” Cheobawn
said, tossing the dress over her shoulder. Connor retrieved it to
inspect the offensive embroidery.

“
Not flowers. It’s just
a viney thing and it’s only on the hems. It could have been worse.
Put it on and come with me. We’ll find your own clothes and maybe
even some real food if you don’t get too tired.”

“
Food?” Cheobawn asked
hopefully. “Like steak pie and mash swimming in gravy?”

“
I wouldn’t go that
far.” Connor said, holding out the offending dress. “They have
been feeding you pabulum through a tube for the last week. It was not
a pretty sight. Steak pie would probably kill you right about now.”

“
I don’t care. It would
be a great way to die,” Cheobawn said fervently. Connor held out
the pink dress. She shuddered and closed her eyes. This was Mora’s
revenge. She was almost sure of it. She slipped her arms out of her
nightgown and let it drop to the floor as Connor slipped the dress
over her head. Like all village dresses, it was sized to suit many
body types. She could have fit four of herself inside it. Luckily, it
was spidersilk, meant to be tied close to body so that it could drape
around feminine curves, something she did not have. The long sash
confused her. She ran the mint green piece of silk through her
fingers, trying to remember how Megan tied her sashes.

“
Gah,” Connor said, as
he took it from her, spun her around. “We don’t have all day. Let
me do this.” He passed the sash across her torso, did a quick half
knot between her shoulder blades before tossing the ends over her
shoulders and back under her arms to cross at her back one last time.
He spun her around again to finish off with a simple knot in the
front. He was at a loss to do with the excess so he just left it
hanging. Cheobawn giggled.

“
That’s not how the
Mothers wear it,” she said. The Mothers made intricate bows that
turned silk sashes into flutterflies or flowers; a useless art
Cheobawn hoped she would never have to learn.

“
No, but Mothers have
assets that you don’t. Plus, all that dangling sleeve is stupid.
This way, you can spin a bladed stick without it tangling in the
material. Do this.” He did the first movement in their Air Warrior
form, a quick twisting motion that was supposed to imitate meeting
two foes in opposite directions. The dress resisted at first but then
the pink silk eased a bit around her shoulders as she worked it free
of its bindings. Connor grunted in satisfaction.

“
I don’t think Mothers
have to worry about spinning sticks,” Cheobawn said smiling.

“
Shut up and put on your
slippers,” Connor said. He opened a drawer in the night stand,
pulled out a comb and dipped it in the glass of water. “Come here.
You have a serious case of bed hair.” She let him comb the snarls
out of her hair, taming the worst of the mess with the water.
Connor’s movements were efficient and practiced, as if he had been
doing this for a while. It occurred to her suddenly that she had left
him all alone and that he had stayed by her side, caring for her,
taking the work that should have been done by the infirmary
apprentices. What had that been like, sitting here day after day
while she was off communing with spiders, watching her fade away and
unable to do anything but pray that she did not die?

Cheobawn wrapped her arms
around his waist and hugged him as hard as she could.

“
Hey,” Connor said
trying to wiggle free. She held on, her face pressed into his chest.

“
I’m sorry,” she said.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. I forgot to come back. It took me a
while to remember that I was not a spider.”

Connor relaxed and wrapped
his arm around her, hugging her back.

“
By all the goddesses in
all the heavens, wee bit,” Connor whispered against the top of her
head, “I thought I had lost you for sure. Don’t ever do that
again.”

“
OK,” she said, letting
him go and wiping the tears from her lashes. She could not promise
anything of the sort, but she would try harder not to hurt the people
who loved her from now on.

“
Mostly I just sat here
trying to figure out how to get transferred to another dome before
Tam got out of Temple and killed me for losing his Ear,” he snorted
ruefully as he pressed her mussed hair back into place.

Cheobawn smiled at that
thought as she met Connor’s gaze. The misty look in her packmate’s
eyes did not support his lie. She opened her mouth to apologize
again.

“
Come on,” Connor said
gruffly, cutting off any further words on the subject. “We can’t
miss all the fun.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door.

The walk down the hall and
down the staircase to the reception area left her weak-kneed. She
took a firm hold on Connor’s arm in case her legs decided to give
out from underneath her and let him guide her while she concentrated
on breathing. The bright light of the plaza blinded her as they
stepped through the main doors of the infirmary and out into the
central plaza. She stopped, blinking hard.

“
Tell me again why I have
to humiliate myself by parading around in this embarrassing dress.
Let’s hope the plaza stays empty. Ohhh …”

She opened her watery eyes.
The plaza was full of people.

“
No,” Cheobawn said
firmly, backing away.

“
Please?” Connor begged,
tugging her back into motion. “Ramhorn Pack is trying to take sixth
place and the odds against them are getting longer by the minute. I
think Sigrid could use a little morale boost. Come show him how well
you are doing.”

“
I hate you,” she said
in resignation.

“
I know. Play nice and I
will find you a steak pie even if I have to make it myself,” Connor
said, a huge grin on his face.

Connor forced his way
through the crowd, dragging Cheobawn behind. She clung to his arm as
the crowd closed in around them. Nedella had broken out a barrel of
beer for the Elders and had made fruit punch for those who did not
imbibe; the mood of the onlookers was almost as festive as a
Darknight celebration. Cheobawn caught snatches of conversations as
her packmate elbowed the audience aside to make room for her. Sigrid
was playing Red Oak Pack and losing badly, it seemed. At the edge of
the plaza Connor cut left, circling the playing field, its chalk
continents freshly outlined, the game pieces standing at the ready,
the War Master’s aides ranged out across the battle arena.

Ramhorn Pack stood in a
cluster around the dome shaped game piece, its Queen piece planted
next to it with a red and white checked ribbon tied around her neck
to match the checkered pennant hanging over their heads. Erin looked
up at their approach and smiled in delight. Breyden bent and scooped
her up, hugging her to his chest as he crowed in delight.

“
Unhand my Ear, Ramhorn,”
Connor growled good-naturedly. Breyden set her down gently but kept
her hand imprisoned in his as he ran his fingers over her palm.

“
You’re alive,”
Breyden said with heartfelt relief. “And in one piece. Who would
have believed it?”

“
It would take more than a
little bite to kill me,” Cheobawn said with a laugh. She turned and
embraced Erin. Much to her surprise, she spotted Sigrid in their
midst. The Alpha sat upon a small bench next to the dome piece.
Sigrid beamed at her and patted the bench beside him. Ramhorn parted
to let her pass into their midst, Connor hovering at her back. She
sat next to Sigrid and put her arm around his waist to hug him
gently, careful of his ribs. Truth be told, she needed to sit down
before she fell down. A week was far too long to lie in bed.

“
Are you well enough to
here?” Cheobawn asked with concern as she looked up into Sigrid’s
face.

“
As well as you, it seems.
You are as pale as snowpudding. I can count every freckle,” he
said, tapping her nose with the tip of one finger. “I had no
choice. It would have been a forfeit if I refused to play. Keep me
company while I finish destroying Xander’s team. Let’s see if we
can put some color back in those cheeks.”

“
I always wondered what
was said in these team huddles. Are you discussing strategies?”