Chapter 13
Snake trudged across the flat-leaves, stumbling once crossing a crevice full of blue-green crawlies, slipping, nearly falling, on a surface made slick and slimy by recent rain. Melissa never moved. Afraid to put her down, Snake kept going.
There’s nothing I can do for her up here, she thought again, and fixed her attention on the downward climb.
Melissa seemed terribly cold, but Snake could not trust her own perceptions. She was pushing herself beyond sensation of any kind. She plodded on like a machine, watching her body from a faraway vantage point, knowing she could get to the bottom of the hill but ready to scream in frustration because the body moved so slowly, stolidly onward, one step, another, and would not go any faster.
The cliff looked much steeper, viewed from above, than it had appeared when Snake climbed up it. Standing at its edge she could not even recall how she had made her way to the top. But the forest and meadow below, the lovely shades of green, reassured her.
Snake sat and eased herself over the edge of the cliff. At first she slid slowly, braking herself with her sore bare feet and managing to keep her balance. She bumped over the stone; the wicker basket scraped and bounced along behind her. But near the bottom she picked up speed, Melissa’s limp weight pulled her off balance, and she slipped and skidded sideways. She fought to keep from rolling, succeeded at the cost of some skin on her back and elbows, and stopped finally at cliff’s end in a shower of dirt and pebbles. She lay still for a moment, with Melissa limp against her and the battered wicker carrier crunched up under her shoulder. The dreamsnakes slithered over each other, but found no holes quite large enough to crawl through. Snake passed her hand over her breast pocket and felt the eggling dreamsnake move beneath her fingers.
Only a little farther, she thought. I can almost see the meadow. If I lie here very quietly I’ll be able to hear Squirrel eating grass…
“Squirrel!” She waited a moment, then whistled. She called him again and thought she heard him neigh, but could not be sure. He would usually follow her around if he were nearby, but he only responded to his name or a whistle when he was in the proper mood. Right now he did not seem to be in the proper mood.
Snake sighed and rolled over and struggled to her knees. Melissa lay pale and cold before her, her arms and legs streaked with dry blood. Snake lifted Melissa to her shoulder; her right arm was nearly useless. Gathering her strength, Snake pushed herself to her feet. The strap of the carrier slipped and hung in the crook of her arm. She took one step forward. The basket bumped against her leg. Her knees were shaking. She took another step, her vision blurred with fear for Melissa’s life.
She called to her pony again as she stumbled into the meadow. She heard hoofbeats but saw neither Squirrel nor Swift, just the crazy’s old pack horse lying in the grass with his muzzle resting on the ground.
Arevin’s robes of musk-ox wool protected him from rain as well as they did from heat and wind and desert sand. He rode through the fresh-washed day, brushing past overhanging branches that showered him with captured droplets. As yet he had seen no sign of Snake, but there was only the single trail.
His horse raised its head and neighed loudly. An answering call came from beyond a dense stand of trees. Arevin heard the drumming of hooves on hard, wet ground, and a gray horse and the tiger-pony Squirrel galloped into sight along the curving trail. Squirrel slid to a stop and pranced nearer, neck arched. The gray mare trotted past, wheeled around, galloped a few steps in play, and stopped again. As the three horses blew their breath into each others’ nostrils in greeting, Arevin reached down and scratched Squirrel’s ears. Both of Snake’s horses were in splendid condition. The gray and the tiger-pony would not be free if Snake had been ambushed: they were too valuable. Even if the horses had escaped during an attack they would still be saddled and bridled. Snake must be safe.
Arevin started to call her name, but changed his mind at the last instant. No doubt he was too suspicious, but after all that had happened he felt it wise to be cautious. A few more moments of waiting would not kill him.
He glanced up the slope, which rose into rocky cliffs and succeeding mountain peaks, stunted vegetation, lichen… and the dome.
Once he had realized what it was he could not understand why he had not seen it instantly. It was the only one he had ever encountered that showed any sign at all of damage: that fact served to disguise it. But it was still, unquestionably, one of the ancients’ domes, the largest he had ever seen or heard of. Arevin had no doubt that Snake was up there somewhere. That was the only possibility that made any sense.
He urged his horse forward, backtracking the other horses’ deep muddy footprints. Thinking he heard something, he stopped. It had not been his imagination: the horses listened with ears pricked. He heard the call again and tried to shout a reply, but the words caught in his throat. He squeezed his legs around his horse so abruptly that the beast sprang into a gallop from a standstill, toward the sound of the healer’s voice, toward Snake.
Followed by the tiger-pony and the gray mare, a small black horse burst through the trees on the far side of the meadow. Snake cursed in an instant of fury that one of North’s people should return to him right now.
And then she saw Arevin.
Astonished, she was unable to move toward him or even speak. He swung down from his mount while the horse was still galloping; he ran to Snake, his robe swirling around him. She stared at him as if he were an apparition, for she was sure he must be, even when he stopped near enough to her to touch.
“Arevin?”
“What happened? Who did this to you? The crazy—”
“He’s in the dome,” she said. “With some others. They’re no danger right now. It’s Melissa, she’s in shock. I have to get her back to camp… Arevin, are you real?”
He lifted Melissa from her shoulder; he held Snake’s daughter in one arm and supported Snake with the other.
“Yes, I’m real. I’m here.”
He helped her across the meadow. When they reached the spot where her gear was piled, Arevin turned to lay Melissa down. Snake knelt by her serpent case and fumbled at the catch. She opened the medicine compartment shakily.
Arevin put his hand on her uninjured shoulder, his touch gentle.
“Let me tend your wound,” he said.
“I’m all right,” she said. “I will be. It’s Melissa—” She glanced up at him and froze at the look in his eyes.
“Healer,” he said, “Snake, my friend—”
She tried to stand up; he tried to restrain her.
“There’s nothing to be done.”
“Nothing to be done — ?” She struggled to her feet.
“You’re hurt,” Arevin said desperately. “Seeing the child now will only hurt you more.”
“Oh, gods,” Snake said. Arevin still tried to hold her back. “Let go of me!” she cried. Arevin stepped away, startled. Snake did not stop to apologize. She could not allow anyone, even him, to protect her: that was too easy, too tempting.
Melissa lay in the deep shade of a pine tree. Snake knelt on the thick mat of brown needles. Behind her, Arevin remained standing. Snake took Melissa’s cold, pale hand. The child did not move. Dragging herself along the ground, she had torn her fingernails to the quick. She had tried so hard to keep her promise… She had kept her promises to Snake much better than Snake had kept her promises to Melissa. Snake leaned over her, smoothing her red hair back from the terrible scars. Snake’s tears fell on Melissa’s cheek.
“There’s nothing to be done,” Arevin said again. “Her pulse is gone.”
“Sh-h,” Snake whispered, still searching for a beat in Melissa’s wrist, at her throat, now thinking she had found the pulse, now certain she had not.
“Snake, don’t torture yourself like this. She’s dead! She’s cold!”
“She’s alive.” She knew he thought she was losing her mind with grief; he did not move, but stared sadly down at her. She turned toward him. “Help me, Arevin. Trust me. I’ve dreamed about you. I love you, I think. But Melissa is my daughter and my friend. I’ve got to try to save her.”
The phantom pulse faintly touched her fingers. Melissa had been bitten so often… but the metabolic increase brought on by the venom was over, and instead of returning it to normal it had fallen sharply to a level barely sustaining life. And mind, Snake hoped. Without help, Melissa would die of exhaustion, of hypothermia, almost as if she were dying of exposure.
“What should I do?” His tone was resigned, depressed.
“Help me move her.”
Snake spread blankets on a wide, flat rock that had soaked up the sunlight all day. She was clumsy with everything. Arevin picked Melissa up and laid her on the warm blanket. Leaving her daughter for a moment, Snake spilled her saddlebags out on the ground. She pushed the canteen, the paraffin stove, and the cook-pot toward Arevin, who watched her with troubled eyes. She had hardly had the chance to look at him.
“Heat some water, please, Arevin. Not too much.” She cupped her hands together to indicate the amount. She grabbed the packet of sugar from the medicine compartment of the serpent case.
By Melissa’s side again, Snake tried to rouse her. The pulse appeared, disappeared, returned.
It’s there, Snake told herself. I’m not imagining it.
She scattered a pinch of sugar onto Melissa’s tongue, hoping there was enough moisture to dissolve it. Snake dared not force her to drink; she might choke if the water went into her lungs. Time was short, but if Snake rushed she would kill her daughter as surely as North might have done. Every minute or so, as she waited for Arevin, she gave Melissa a few more grains of sugar.
Saying nothing, Arevin brought the steaming water. Snake put one more pinch of sugar on Melissa’s tongue and handed Arevin the pouch. “Dissolve as much of this in there as you can.” She chafed Melissa’s hands and patted her cheek. “Melissa, dear, try to wake up. Just for a moment. Daughter, help me.”
Melissa gave no response. But Snake felt the pulse, once, again, this time strong enough to make her sure. “Is that ready?”
Arevin swirled the hot water around in the pan: a bit too eagerly and some splashed on his hand. Alarmed, he looked at Snake.
“It’s all right. It’s sugar.” She took the pan from him.
“Sugar!” He wiped his fingers on the grass.
“Melissa! Wake up, dear.” Melissa’s eyelids flickered. Snake caught her breath with relief.
“Melissa! You need to drink this.”
Melissa’s lips moved slightly.
