The Interrogation of Ashala Wolf (The Tribe) (19 page)

The bubble moved with me, bouncing off the ground and soaring into the sky. From up here, I could see a wide white pathway snaking among the buildings and winding into the distance.
That will lead us home!
Our bubble started to fall back to the earth, and I leaned forward, aiming for the path. We rebounded off the surface, rising into the night, and I laughed in delight as we left the buildings behind. On and on we went, each bounce taking us farther from danger, until I was dizzy with exhilaration and power. I was a savior, a victor, a hero, and no one and nothing could stop me.

Then the crow attacked.

She raked her claws across my neck, sending me stumbling sideways and breaking my concentration. The bubble was on the descent. It wobbled in the air and sank to the ground, rolling back and forth along the path as I struggled with the crow.
Has she gone crazy?
I tried to fend her off without hurting her, but she came at me again and again, screeching and pecking and flapping, until finally, I grabbed hold of one of her wings. The crow swept the other one around, slamming it against my face — and everything changed.

There was no bubble, no flying, no magic. Instead, I stood on the ground, gazing into the wide eyes of a pale-skinned girl and holding her right arm in my left hand. She had the other arm raised as if she was going to strike me, and from the way my cheek was stinging, it felt like she already had. I let her go as I backed away, looking around in confusion. I could see a child standing some distance away, but no crow and no kitten.
Where am I? Where are my friends?
Comprehension crashed over my bewildered mind, and I staggered, resting my hands on my legs. Ember ran over and pulled my hair back from my face in case I threw up, which I sometimes did after I’d Walked. “It’s okay, Ash. You’re okay.”

I coughed and hacked as I tried to get control of my heaving stomach and shaking body. I wanted to collapse in a heap, but I felt I’d shatter into pieces if I did, as if being on my feet was all that was holding me together. So I kept breathing, slowly and evenly, staring down at the earth.
No, not the earth — a road.
We weren’t even in the Firstwood. “Where?” I managed to ask.

“I think we’re close to Cambergull.”

“Not far enough!”

“Don’t be silly, Ash. We didn’t need to get all the way home, just out of the city and away from any search for Pepper.”

“Sorry. So sorry . . .” Tears dripped down my chin. I’d had one thing to do, and I felt horribly guilty that I hadn’t been able to do it. I sobbed harder, overcome by my failure and ineptitude.

“What you’re feeling,” Ember said calmly, “is a reaction to the Sleepwalking. You know that. And you probably wouldn’t be in such a state afterward if you’d use a different symbol to tell yourself you’re dreaming.”

“My only chance . . . to see her. Can’t remember . . . all the details of her face that way . . . when I’m awake.”

She sighed. “Oh, Ash.”

I don’t know how long I stayed like that, hunched over and crying and shaking. Eventually, though, I began to feel better, enough for my battered brain to realize why Ember had started a fight with me. “I wouldn’t wake up, Em?”

“No, and you were starting to tremble and weren’t breathing properly. I knew you were exhausted.”

“You were right.” Sleepwalking burned through my energy, and once it was all gone, I woke up, no matter where I was. Which could be fatal. Like, for instance, if I was bouncing around in a giant invisible bubble. I shuddered at the horrifying image of Ember, Pepper, and me falling from the sky and slamming into the ground. Ember had tried various mixes of what she called smelling salts, but while they brought me out of normal sleep, nothing could rouse me from Sleepwalking. That was why I never deliberately used my ability without Ember, who knew how to tell if I was reaching my limits and could try to keep me in a safe place long enough for my exhaustion to kick in and snap me out of it.

My stomach had stopped roiling, and I straightened up. We were on the highway that linked the Gull City towns together. To the right of the road were the tracks for the Rail, but beyond that, and on the other side, too, were forests. There were no mighty tuarts in these woods, but it still was comforting to see trees looming over me in the moonlight. “We better get moving.”

“We could wait longer.”

“No. Let’s go. I can walk.” Just not very fast, or very well. But after an effort like this, my ability wasn’t going to be useable for a few weeks, and we had to get to the safety of the Firstwood as soon as we could. I searched for Pepper and spied her small form waiting at the edge of the tree line.
I’ve probably scared the kid off me forever.
Dragging myself towards her, I said in the friendliest, most reassuring voice I could muster, “Hey, Pepper. Are you okay?”

For an awful moment, she was silent. Then she bounced on her feet and exclaimed excitedly, “We flew! We actually flew! That was the most awesomest thing to ever happen to me ever. Can we do it again?
Please.
”

I gaped at her. Pepper moved closer, putting her hand in mine. “I’m sorry I wasn’t nicer to you before, Ashala. I was just scared about running away and everything.” She sounded remorseful, as if she were the saddest, sorriest little girl in the world. I would’ve believed she was, too, if I hadn’t heard that exact tone so many times before from Jaz. She looked up at me, tears sparkling on her lashes. “You’re not mad, are you?”

Behind me, Ember muffled a giggle. I ignored her. “No, Pepper, I’m not mad.”

“Can we go flying again sometime?”

“Of course!”

She flung her arms around my waist, and I hugged her right back. There was a warm, contented feeling around my heart, and it wasn’t one bit diminished by the fact that I knew I was being shamelessly manipulated. Staring into Pepper’s upturned face, I smiled ruefully. “You’re a
lot
like your brother, Pepper.”

Jaz’s sister grinned a wide, familiar grin. “I know!”

I should never have hit him with the stick.

What I
should
have done was follow him and find out what an enforcer was doing in the forest. But it had been such a shock! There I’d been, gathering wood for the fire, and suddenly there was this enforcer, and all I could think was that he might have been the one who killed the rabbit Jaz ate. The next thing I knew, the piece of firewood I had in my hand was connecting with the back of his head, and the enforcer went down. Which was right about when my brain started working again and began informing me of all the potential consequences of assaulting someone from the government. Visions of troops of enforcers descending on the Firstwood danced through my mind, and for a few panicky seconds, I stood there over his body, thinking,
What have I done?
Then a worse possibility had occurred to me:
Have I killed him?
I hadn’t, though. Just knocked him out, which was bad enough. So I dragged him into the bushes and ran for Ember. I needed her to help me decide what to do.

And the first thing she said was, “You shouldn’t have hit him with a stick.”

Since I
had
hit him, though, Ember thought we might as well find out what he was doing here. So the two of us had carried him through the Firstwood, with me taking his arms and Ember his legs, and Ember’s crows flying ahead to warn us if someone was coming. I didn’t want the rest of the Tribe involved in this; it was bad enough that we were. We’d gone to the secure side of the cave system, the part that was infested with Georgie’s little friends. No one ever came here without Georgie’s permission. They knew that they’d get bitten if they did, and that meant being temporarily paralyzed or permanently dead, depending on the size of the spider.

I looked out over the trees without really seeing them. I was in one of the high caverns that opened onto the forest, and ordinarily I loved the view. Today, it made me feel sick to think how I might have put it all in danger — the tuarts, the saurs, the Tribe, everything — by giving the government a reason to attack us.
I wish Georgie would hurry up!
I’d left Ember with the still-unconscious enforcer because Georgie had said she had to show me something important, except then she’d had to go make sure the spiders understood not to bite the prisoner. Finally, I heard footsteps, and Georgie came hurrying in. “He’s waking up, Ash. But you have to come with me before you speak to him.”

She grabbed hold of my arm and pulled me through a few of the smaller caves, then stopped in front of one of her “maps” of the future. It was made up of all the usual ingredients — vine, string, scraps of clothing, seeds, and rocks, the odd button or piece of glass that caught the light. All of it was tied together in a complex set of connections that stretched out across most of the cave wall. It meant nothing to me, but I knew that every part of that web represented possibilities to Georgie. She reached out, pulling forward one of the objects tied into it.

I peered at the tiny carved wooden figure. “Is that a bird?”

“No,” she answered “It’s an
angel.
”

“Okay . . .”

“He looks like one.”

“Who? The enforcer?” I examined the map more closely. The winged figure was all over it — the same carving, tied in again and again. “This is a shape you’re seeing in more than one future? That means it’s significant, right?”

“Yes, and the shape of the angel — it’s the shape of a friend.”

“He can’t
possibly
be a friend! Unless . . . maybe the angel isn’t him?”

Georgie just looked at me, and I sighed. “Yeah, okay, I’ve never seen a real-life person with a face like that, either. Are you sure about the friend thing?”

She shrugged. “It’s what I see. Except I don’t know what I don’t see.”

Which meant that in all the futures she’d glimpsed, the angel was a friend. But she didn’t know if there were a whole lot of other futures she
hadn’t
seen, where the angel was an enemy. Georgie added, sounding frustrated, “And I don’t see lots, Ash. Because this map is about the detention center, and I’m pretty sure rhondarite is messing it up.” She pointed at big blank areas of the web, where there were only a few strands of vine and string. “You see, the futures of that place are basically the futures of everyone in it, and a lot of those people will be wearing rhondarite collars, which blocks my ability. So there are these massive gaps. . . .”

“Yeah, I get it.” I stared glumly at the angel figure. “I’m not sure I know what to do about this. I’ll keep it in mind when I talk to him, though.”

“I think,” she told me, “that you have to trust your heart, Ash.”

“That’s not very —” I broke off, leaping backward as I spotted something gray and furry coming over the top of her shoulder. “You’ve got one on you!”

She picked up the spider and put it on the wall. “It’s one of the small ones, Ash.” Which was to say, it was the size of a fist rather than a dinner plate. I deliberately didn’t watch where it went as it scurried away. I knew there’d be heaps of spiders crawling on the ceiling, but as long as I didn’t look up, I could pretend they weren’t there. “They know not to fall on me, don’t they? Or jump? Or come anywhere near me?”

“They’re not that interested in you.”

Yeah, she always said that. I could feel them all watching me out of their miniature spider eyes, and I knew that they knew I didn’t like them. I hunched my shoulders defensively as I headed back to Ember and the enforcer, making my way through the labyrinthine passages until I saw a dim glow in the distance. Even when fully charged, solar lamps aren’t super bright, but the ones we had were more than enough to light the cavern where we were holding our prisoner.

Ember was cross-legged on the floor, facing the enforcer, who was sitting with his wrists and ankles bound and his back to the wall. His appearance had been startling enough in the daylight, when his eyes were closed. But in the soft lamplight, with his pale skin almost glowing and his eyes shining a bright impossible blue, I had to try
very
hard not to stare.

Then he smiled, and I gave up trying.

“Ashala Wolf. I am Justin Connor.”

I shoved my hands into my pockets, doing my absolute best to glare at that extraordinary face as he continued. “I’m afraid I must tell you that someone in the Tribe is betraying you.”

Ember choked, and I snapped, “They are
not.
”

“The government knows about your pact with the saurs.”

My gaze flew to Ember’s. She’d always thought there might be more to the rabbit killing than the random stupidity of a few enforcers, and it seemed like she’d been right.

“If what you’re saying is true, then who is the traitor?” Ember demanded.

“I don’t know yet.”

She snorted. “Convenient.”

He ignored her, addressing me instead. “I swear to you, I am not your enemy. I am an Illegal, too.”

“You’re an
enforcer
!”

His lips curved into another of those heart-stopping smiles. “Yes, I know.”

Ember stood up. “If you’re an Illegal, prove it. What’s your ability?”

“I can fly.” And with that, he rose above the ground — not far, but enough for us to see that he was hovering above the floor. Then he sank back down again, breathing heavily. “Of course,” he said, “it’s easier to do when my head isn’t hurting so much. Do I have you to thank for that, Ashala?”

I didn’t answer, feeling so stunned by the revelations of the last few minutes that I was struggling to form thoughts, let alone words.

Ember wasn’t as overcome as I was. “So you have an ability. That proves you’re an Illegal, but it doesn’t prove you’re not working for the government. You could be their spy.”

He sighed. “You must have seen my tattoo when you tied my wrists. Do you think they’d allow an Illegal to wander free with a Citizenship mark? I am proof that the government is lying when they say no Illegal ever passes a Citizenship test. Also, why would I warn you that you have a traitor among you?”

I lifted my chin. “Maybe we don’t. Maybe you’re trying to win our trust by deceiving us.”

“Is that what you really believe, or is that what you want to believe?”

I wanted to shout,
Yes, it’s what I believe!
Only I wasn’t sure. Ember wasn’t, either; I could tell by the way she’d lapsed into thoughtful silence. He glanced from one to the other of us and added, “I am willing to do whatever it takes to prove myself. I’ll undergo any test you like.”

Ember smiled, and it wasn’t a very nice smile. “You might be very sorry you said that.” She turned to me. “Let’s talk.”

We walked out of the cave, stood where we could still see our prisoner, and huddled together for a hushed conversation.

“What do you think, Ash?”

“I don’t know! Georgie believes he’s a friend. She’s
seen
an angel in one of her futures.”

“A
what
?”

“You know, like the statues in Gull City.”

“Oh. Yes, I see the resemblance.”

“She saw betrayal a few months ago, too,” I admitted.

“You never told me that!”

“I thought . . . I’m sorry, Em, but I thought it was you, with Jaz.”

She looked crushed, and I said quickly, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.

“No, it’s all right. Look, I can test this guy. Read his memories.”

“Then he’ll understand what you’re capable of!”

“I could always alter his memories afterward, take away the ones of what happened here.”

“Didn’t you once tell me that taking memories when people don’t want to give them up can break their minds?” She was so obviously astonished, it was almost comical. “Sometimes I
do
pay attention, Em.”

“We have to know why he’s here!”

“And if he’s not a friend? What then?”

She went quiet, then said, “We could — dispose of him.”

“You mean
kill
him?”

“It wouldn’t take much. Just a bite from one of the big spiders —”

“Em! How can you even suggest that? What happened to changing the world without violence?”

“I never meant we shouldn’t strike back when we’re under attack, and we are! Either from him or from a traitor. We’ve
got
to defend ourselves, or the whole Tribe could be lost.”

I looked away. The mere idea of having to kill anyone made me feel like throwing up.
If he’s a spy, and we let him go . . .
Ember wasn’t wrong about the Tribe being in danger. All the lives I was responsible for — not only the Tribe, but the tuarts as well, and even the saurs — seemed to weigh down on me. It was as if I could feel the massive bulk of them all, pressing upon my inadequate shoulders. “We do have to find out if he’s telling the truth,” I acknowledged. “But we decide
together
what happens after that. Don’t go and hide things from me, like with Jaz. Okay?”

“I won’t, Ash.”

We stepped back into the cave. Ember strode over to the enforcer and announced, “I have an ability that allows me to read other people’s memories. Are you still sure you want to be tested?”

He raised an eyebrow. “An impressive power. Yes, I’m sure. Is it possible for you to show my memories to Ashala?”

“To me? Why?”

“Because,” he replied, staring right at me, “you are the reason I came here, Ashala Wolf.”

I had no idea what to make of
that
statement, and I waited for Ember to tell him she couldn’t do it. She didn’t, and after a minute, I asked, “Em?”

“It is possible,” she admitted. She moved closer to me and said softly, “In fact, it would make it easier if he wants you to have his memories, since his mind will give them up more easily. But when you experience someone else’s memories, Ash, you let things into your head that you can never get out again, maybe awful things. It could make a kind of . . . link . . . between you and him.”

That didn’t sound good, and the truth was, I didn’t want to know any more about someone we might have to kill. Except it wasn’t fair to ask Ember to do things that I wouldn’t, especially not when I knew she’d do almost anything to protect me.

I nodded at our prisoner. “All right, Justin Connor. I get your memories.”

His eyes lit up, blazing with — triumph? Happiness? Ember hissed in my ear, “Ash! Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

She took a step back and studied my face. Whatever she saw there must have convinced her that I wasn’t going to change my mind, because she said, “Sit down, then, because this is going to take a while, and
don’t
interrupt.”

I positioned myself on the floor, and she went to the far corner of the cave, where she grabbed a flask of water from the pile of basic supplies we’d assembled. I watched as she filled up a cup, picked up a stone from the floor, and dropped it into the water. Then she came over and knelt beside the enforcer. She pressed the cup into his hands and clasped her own hands over his. When she spoke, her voice had a soothing, steady rhythm to it that made me feel like falling asleep. “I need you to concentrate, Justin Connor. Look at the water in the cup. See the surface? How it reflects? Focus on what you want to show Ashala, the memories that demonstrate who you are. Imagine them reflected in the water.”

The enforcer hunched over the cup, and the water began to move, sloshing against the sides. Then I realized it wasn’t the water; it was him, shaking. His skin grew paler, and his shivering more intense, until I could hear his teeth rattling together. Ember didn’t seem worried. She kept talking, repeating the same phrases, while the enforcer looked worse and worse. I started to get scared that something had gone wrong and was about to defy Ember and interrupt when he sagged against the wall. It seemed like he wouldn’t have been able to endure another second, and despite everything, I was glad it was over. But when Ember spoke again, I realized she wasn’t finished yet. “Good. Now I need you to imagine the memories flowing out of the water and into the stone.”

I thought he wouldn’t — or couldn’t — do as she said. Eventually, though, he leaned forward. He didn’t shake so much this time, but he kept sliding sideways and then jolting back upright, as if he were keeping himself conscious by sheer force of will. All the while, Ember kept talking. “Every one of those memories is passing into the little stone, flowing in one by one until they’re all held safely inside the pebble, locked away. No one can reach them now unless they speak a special word that will let the memories out. Imagine the word that unlocks the stone.”