trouble it can call to the others with a low sound we can’t hear. My magic allows me to locate the snakes and hear their calls. And my drum is my way to talk to them. It doesn’t work on the other animals.” He shrugged. “But I keep the snakes away from our homestead.”
“You were out on patrol when you heard my snake?” Funny how I had become possessive of the creature that had tried to squash and eat me.
“Yes. Although, when I left this morning, I had hoped to find more than snakes.” He gave me an odd look. “I guess I just did. Why are you here, Yelena?”
“I’m following a group of people who had been living in the plateau,” I said. “They came through here. Has anyone seen them?” But what I really wanted to ask was had they attacked the clan? Were my mother and father okay?
“Seen? No. Strangers are in the jungle, but we can’t find them and…” He paused, probably considering what information he should divulge. “Perhaps it would be best for you to talk to our clan elders. Are you alone?”
“No. My brother and some Sandseeds are traveling with me.”
“In the trees?”
“On the ground.” I told Chestnut about the attack and how I had been acting as a scout for our group.
Chestnut accompanied me to the Zaltana homestead. It contained a vast network of living, sleeping and cooking areas connected by bridges and suspended above the ground. Hidden by the thick jungle vegetation, the homestead was hard to find, but once inside the complex, I continued to be amazed the tree canopy could camouflage such a collection of rooms.
Built of wood, the floors of the buildings were anchored to wide branches. Ivy grew on the outside of all the walls to hide their shape. Almost all of the furniture was constructed of wood, and rope hammocks provided comfortable places to sleep. Handcrafts made of jungle items like seeds and sticks decorated the various rooms, including animal sculptures created by colored pebbles glued together.
The main throughway of the homestead tended to be common areas of each of the families within the clan. The living and sleeping quarters branched off from the public rooms.
Besides being extensive, the homestead was also well defended. The Zaltana magicians kept a vigilant watch for any strangers.
After our arrival, Chestnut hurried to find the clan elders and I scanned the path back to Moon Man. Once I was certain that the way was clear, I made contact with the Story Weaver’s mind.
Come, I told him. Come quickly.
We are on the way, he replied.
I raced to my parents’ suite. A few surprised glances and quizzical calls followed me as I dashed toward the Liana quarters, but I ignored them.
My mother, Perl, paced the living room. The air smelled like ginger and cinnamon, but her perfume distillery set up on the long table against the back wall appeared to be empty.
“Yelena!”
She flew into my arms. A few inches shorter than me, the slender woman clutched me as if to keep from falling.
“Mother. What’s the matter?” I asked.
“Esau,” she said, and cried.
I suppressed the urge to shake her as she sobbed in my arms. Instead, I waited for the flow of tears to subside before I pulled her away and looked into her light green eyes. “What about Father?”
“He’s missing.”
CHAPTER 8
I RESISTED THE URGE to use magic to calm my mother. Many horrible scenarios played in my mind before she settled enough to tell me the details. My father had been expected back from an expedition yesterday and had failed to return.
“There was a clan meeting,” Perl said between sobs. “A couple of scouts had gotten lost, and he went to find them.”
“Lost scouts?”
She gave me a watery smile. “Some of the newer ones will lose their way. Esau always finds them. No one knows the jungle as well as he does.”
“Maybe one of the scouts was hurt,” I said, hoping to calm her and to stop myself from imagining Esau being a victim of the Kirakawa ritual. “Why was he expected yesterday?”
“Another clan meeting. The jungle creatures have been restless and disturbed and we can’t pinpoint why. When the two scouts failed to return, the clan decided everyone should stay close to our homestead. Each night we gather in the common room to make sure everyone is safe. Esau was only supposed to be gone a few hours.” Tears tracked down her cheeks.
Her face reflected the hours of worry and fear. Her long hair had more gray than black. I couldn’t leave her alone, yet I needed more information.
“I have to talk with the clan elders,” I said. “You can come along only if you promise not to get too upset.”
She agreed, but uncertainty filled her eyes. Her hand went to her throat. Maybe taking her with me was a bad idea. Perhaps Nutty could stay with her?
Perl stiffened as if with a sudden realization. “Wait,” she said before bolting toward the lift.
As I watched her pull the ropes and ascend to the second floor of the apartment, my heart filled with dread. Esau had invented that lift, using vines from the jungle and a pulley system. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if anything happened to him.
Panic made me fidget, and just as I was about to call out to Perl to hurry, the lift moved. My mother had splashed water on her face and had tied her hair back. She also wore my fire amulet around her neck. I smiled.
“For strength,” she said, and she met my gaze. This time only stubborn resolve radiated from her. “Let’s go.”
I thought about the fire amulet as we made our way to the homestead’s meeting room. Winning an acrobatic contest during an Ixian fire festival, I had achieved a moment of pure joy in the midst of hell. Reyad—one of my captors, the first man I’d killed—had tried to keep me from participating, and I was severely punished for my disobedience, but I knew I would do it again. I now realized the stubborn streak from both my parents had kept me fighting despite Mogkan and Reyad s efforts to control me.
Our clan name might be Zaltana, but our family name was Liana, which meant vine in the old Illiais language. Those vines grew everywhere in the jungle, pulling down trees in their search for the sun. When cut and dried, the vines turned rock hard.
Looking at the firm set of my mother’s shoulders, I knew she had reached the point where she would no longer bend to her emotions, but do what was needed to help find her husband.
The common room was the largest area of the homestead. Big enough to hold the entire clan, the round area had a stone fire pit at its center. The black ashy remains of the fire drifted in the sunlight, streaming from the smoke hole in the room’s wooden ceiling. Benches made of branches and hardened vines ringed the pit. The scent of many perfumes lingered in the air and I remembered the first time I stood here.
The entire clan had filled the room then. Curious to see the lost child returned from—according to their viewpoint—the dead, they peered at me with a mixture of hope, joy and suspicion. My hopes for an uneventful reunion dissolved when my brother declared to all that I reeked of blood.
Chestnut interrupted my reminiscence by introducing me to the clan elders. “Oran Cinchona Zaltana and Violet Rambutan Zaltana.”
They bowed in the formal Sitian greeting. Their dark faces creased with worry. These two dealt with the day-to-day problems of the clan when our clan leader, Bavol, was at the Citadel. Missing scouts plus unexpected
