The Unfinished Song (Book 5): Wing (37 page)

The watching throng, who had been lulled into
breathless absorption with her dance and story, gasped
collectively. In an eyeblink, half the room jumped to their feet,
some worried, some furious, depending on whether they realized
Dindi had knocked the loom down on purpose.

Dindi let her voice boom without shouting, a neat
Tavaedi trick. Her voice carried over the crowd.

“Farla! Stand next to your loom!”

Startled, Farla hobbled up to the stage. Dindi
spread her arms to the crowd.

“Behold, Farla is taller than her loom. She is a
woman, by the customs of your clan and tribe and from this day
forward must be accorded such honor.”

“Fa!” shouted Essi. “No loom will work if it is on
the floor!”

But the others in the room already saw what Essi
could not. Traditionally, the upright looms in Spider Weaver
clanhold did not have a wooden bar on the bottom; the vertical
threads were held down by stone weights. Umbral had changed the
design, adding a bottom bar, and tying the threads around the bar.
Both warp and weft were tightly secured and the loom could be used
from a sitting position.

The elders crowded onto the stage. They examined the
horizontal loom. They scratched their white hair. They looked at
Dindi, and at Farla.

The Matriarch of the clan cleared her throat. “No
one outside our clan knows the secret story of Spider Woman, or
that we are descendants of an Aelfae. Truly, your powers must be
great, and you must be favored by her memory. We will honor Farla.
And we will honor you.”

She knelt to Dindi. The other elders knelt as well.
A ripple spread through the room as one after another bent knee and
bowed head to her. Even Farla and Essi knelt. Farla wept openly.
Every person in the lodge went down on their knees.

Almost
every person.

Umbral stood at the farthest end of the lodge, near
the door. Dindi was sure he had not been there during most of her
dance, but he had seen the climax, including when she knocked over
the loom.

Neither praise nor respect shone in his eyes. His
arms were crossed and the expression on his face promised stone
cold murder.

Dindi didn’t understand until she saw what he
clenched in one fist.

The corncob doll.

He knows.

Umbral returned to the Lodge just as Dindi was
finishing the dance of Spider Woman. The brilliance of the Orange
glow around her disturbed him. Another Presence filled her,
overflowed from her, weaving a Vision of another life, an ancient
world, a Vision that all in the crowd could see. Even blind Essi,
who stood near the back of the Lodge near him, was gazing raptly at
the stage, as if the Chromas pierced her white eyes.

He had never seen a
tama
like this. Dindi had
danced her own story. She had also opened herself up to the colors
of the loom. Somehow her own story had found an echo of the ancient
one, and the lingering memory of Spider Lady, still alive in her
loom, had stepped into Dindi’s body. It was more than a Vision. It
was as if she had
become
Spider Lady.

“What has she done?”

He wasn’t aware he’d asked the question out loud
until Essi answered him.

“It’s said that Spider Lady’s bite could unweave a
man or woman’s memory Pattern, and with her webs, she could reweave
that memory, either restoring it, or replacing it with another
person’s Pattern. But I have never seen her do it until now.”

“But she is dead. How can the dead reweave the
Chromas of the living?”

“The Deathsworn thought that they destroyed the
Aelfae. But did they? Souls are larger than mere selves. The souls
of the Aelfae were the widest of all, like Spider Lady’s web, woven
into everything they touched. They spun their loves from the bowels
of the earth to the bowl of the sky. To love something is to take
it into yourself, and leave yourself knotted inside it. The Aelfae
are not gone. They are all around us. Unraveled, like threads torn
off a loom, like strands plucked out of a rug. But who may say when
some Great Weaver might find a way to string them back onto the
world loom?

“I know what you are,” Essi whispered to him. “The
blind are not blinded by the dark. But I also know there is more
than darkness in you. There is something else, another Pattern,
struggling inside you.”

“It’s not mine. It is the Pattern of a dead
man.”

“Beware the dead. They return through the crevices
in shattered souls. And your soul is so very, very shattered,
Deathsworn. If you don’t even know who you are, how can you protect
yourself from becoming someone you aren’t?”

Dindi kicked over the Loom and invited Farla on
stage. This, Umbral had expected, her little trick to make Farla a
woman. He had doubted it would convince the clan.

That was before he—and the Spider Weaver clan—had
seen the power and Presence in Dindi’s dance. She had brought their
ancestor back to life. There was nothing they would deny her now.
They crowded around her, praising and fawning over her. As well
they should.

She could do it
. Dread cut him to the bone.
She could bring them
all
back
.

He
must
slay her now.

“Fool boy!” said Vumo. He sounded tired. “Don’t do
this. Don’t make me kill you.”

“You’re the one who will go down, old man!” Tamio
shot back.

Under the empty sky, surrounded by a circle of
frowning mountain peaks, and a ring of nattering men and women,
they faced off against each other. Each was armed with a short
spear.

“We can both back down,” said Vumo. “We were drunk
last night. It was a mistake.”

Back down?
Never.
I can take him.
Beat him to the ground. He deserves it. Then when I have him
smashed to the dirt, with my foot on his neck, I’ll spare his life.
No explanation. I’ll just say, “Even killing you is a waste of my
time.”

“You’re a liar,” Tamio sneered at Vumo. “A
womanizer. A cheat. A bastard...”

“Sure,” said Vumo. “But what’s it to you?”

“It’s everything to me, you fat piece of goat
muck!”

Tamio charged into the fight.

Vumo wasn’t where he should have been. Muck and
mercy. The old coot was
fast
. But solid as a tree. He didn’t
fight like a Sheep Drover, either. He knew how to roll, how to
flip, how to kick, how to be elsewhere whenever Tamio tried to land
a blow.

Vumo fought like a Zavaedi. Not just any Zavaedi;
one trained in the Rainbow Labyrinth, where they started fighting
and dancing when they were three and did nothing else for the next
forty years. Probably Kavio could have taken him down. But Tamio
quickly realized
he
could not.

He stopped holding back. There wasn’t any point;
Vumo was better than he was. He also gave in to his temper, though
it didn’t help him. Fury felt good. He didn’t have to think
anymore. Maybe he’d die. He didn’t care anymore.

Vumo feinted and led Tamio into overreaching. That
was all it took. Vumo brought his spear up and under, right at
Tamio’s heart, and Tamio knew it would be the killing blow. He
tried to do one last thing, bring out the conch shell to show his
father before he died, but Vumo was too swift. The spear
struck.

The stone tip was deflected from Tamio’s heart by
the conch shell. The spear still drove hard into Tamio’s body,
piercing a shoulder rather than the heart. Blood soaked his leather
tunic. He crumbled to the ground. He pulled out the conch. He had
not intended to say anything to Vumo, but now he wanted him to know
the truth. Since Tamio was dying, it couldn’t hurt him and it
seemed important to say.

“I’m your son.”

The crowd had bowed to her. Now they all stood up
again, to cheer her, and try to come near her to offer their thanks
and gratitude. They wanted her to know how awed they were by her
dance. They wanted her to bless them and some requested she dance
spells for their own problems.

Dindi smiled and touched hands and kissed babies
pressed up to her, but the whole time she was aware of Umbral
beelining toward her with murder in his mien.

Two groups of clansfolk fell into a noisy argument
about who had first rights on Dindi’s next dance. She took
advantage of the commotion to slip down the ladder through the hole
in the stage.

Only Farla noticed her escape. She followed Dindi
down the ladder before Dindi could close the trap door.

“Your master wants to kill you,” Farla said bluntly.
“You’re a slave alone among enemies. You’re an idiot if you think
you can escape.”

Wonderful, Dindi thought. Farla would probably be
the first to tell Umbral where she’d gone. Not that it mattered,
since Farla was right. Umbral would find her. There was no place in
the clanhold she could hide. There was no place outside the
clanhold she could go.

“I know why your master wants to kill you,” Farla
said. “You showed him your power. And now he’s afraid. Why would
you do it? And of all people, why would you risk your life to help
me
?”

Dindi had no answer, but Farla shrugged.

“Never mind, I know why. You said it all in the
dance. I saw you in the Vision, you know. Not just Spider Woman but
you.”

“You saw a Vision when I danced?” Dindi asked.

“Yes. I don’t know if the others did or not. But I
saw your Initiation. I saw the Duck Hunt.”

Dindi felt her face heat with shame. “Yes. That was
me. The Duck. I’m still being hunted, and too stupid to find a way
out. Only this time it will cost me my life.”

“Yes, if you try to escape alone,” said Farla. “But
if I help you, you might, just
might
survive. There’s a
secret road that few outside our clan know. I can show it to you.
Help me move these jars, they’re too heavy for me.”

Dindi wondered if this were some kind of prank, but
she played along. To her surprise, after she helped Farla move the
heavy jars of potatoes, she saw a tiny door in the wall. It was
about right for Farla, and a bit tight for Dindi, unless she
crawled.

“Come along, then!” snapped Farla. “We haven’t much
time!”

Bemused, Dindi followed her. The door led through a
moldy dirt tunnel held up with logs

The tunnel was not long. It let out past the wooden
stockade around the clanhold. For once there was nothing spastic in
Farla’s moves. Every step was smooth, swift, deliberate. This was
no prank.

“There is a way you can escape him.” Farla’s devious
grin never more welcome. “A secret path. I will show you. I will
save your life.”

“I can’t ask that of you.”

“You can’t refuse me,” said Farla. “You gave me more
than my loom. You tied me to you. Look.”

Farla paused and aura shimmered around her, deep and
pure Orange, and she spread a few strands between her fingers, as
if playing a child’s game of cat’s cradle. Dindi saw that the
glowing threads connected to threads in her own aura.

“Because you drew me into your Vision, and for a
moment, I became you and felt everything you felt, a life thread
connects us,” said Farla. “It can never be broken.”

“I didn’t mean to endanger you,” said Dindi. She
knew Umbral wouldn’t go out of his way to hurt Farla, but neither
would he allow anything to stop him from fulfilling his duty as he
saw it, not even killing an innocent.

They walked a way in silence, except for Farla’s
noisy huffs. Farla led Dindi up the rocky slope until they reached
the frozen river at the head of the valley.

“The hollow mountain where the Aelfae locked Spider
Woman still exists,” said Farla. “It is the mountain under the
tribehold and we live at the base of it. But to reach the entrance
to the caves during the winter, you must travel the Ice Snake.”

“The Ice Snake?”

“The river. Be careful of thin ice. Spring is near.
This is the most dangerous time of year to travel. If you had any
other choice, I would tell you do not dare it.

Dindi stared at the river.

The Ice Snake was aptly named. Slippery and
serpentine, as soon as it left the valley, it traversed a series of
switchbacks through canyons so narrow and high they allowed no
footage even to sheep. Wind howled from a thousand directions,
bouncing off the canyon walls, like a hungry wolf pack. Dindi had a
premonition as strong any Vision, though there was no visual
component, only dread. Her bones themselves shivered.
This road
will swallow me
.

“Take my cloak and my boots,” said Farla. “I should
not have let you come in that ridiculous rag.”

Dindi still wore her Aelfae gown. Her feet were
bare. But she tried to push Farla’s warm offerings back at her. “I
can’t take these. You’ll need them more than I.”

Since I’ll probably die anyway
, Dindi added
silently,
cloak or not
.

Farla insisted. “We are of one cloth now,
remember?”

So Dindi put them on. Farla had big feet for her
size, and Dindi’s were petite for hers, so the boots fit
surprisingly well. The fleece delighted her toes. The outside of
the boots were oiled and waterproof, so even when she crossed onto
the ice into the center of the river, she could not feel the ice
through the soles.

Dindi looked back at Farla, who stood barefoot on
the shore. Who would have guessed that Farla of all people would
give up her only winter clothes to save an enemy outtriber runaway
slave? In the great pattern of things, would Farla’s sacrifice make
any difference? Probably not. Probably it would not even save Dindi
from Umbral. Nothing would; he was too relentless. But it mattered
to Dindi that Farla had tried to do one small, good thing. It
mattered.

“Remember me when I’m gone,” Dindi begged her. No
one else would know how she died.

“I will weave your story into a new tapestry, Dindi.
I will teach it to my clan and all will teach it to their daughters
and to their daughters’ daughters, to the utmost generation. You
will not be forgotten.”