Cold Steel (Spiritwalker 3)

Voices surged like the sea around us. The footfalls of the running players made a constant tremor, shivering out on all sides through the beaten earth of the court.

I kissed him. His lips were dry; mine were dusty. Surprised by my riposte, he forgot himself, and another face spilled through Vai’s features too quickly for me to recognize before it settled back into Vai’s form. It was definitely not my sire.

I dug a knee up into his groin and shoved him sideways while he was yelping. As I scrambled up, I scanned the ballcourt. The ball was flying back right at me, the dead face frozen in a grimace. I struck the head with a flip of my hip and angled it toward Aunty Djeneba’s husband. Then we ran, never letting the head drop. The ebb and flow of play meant that the head bounced between sides. Here in the spirit world, the players were too good ever to let the ball touch the ground.

You would think they did nothing but play across the ballcourt of eternity, and maybe that was all they did. I wouldn’t mind doing that. A gal could play batey all day and lose all track of time if her limbs never grew weak and her throat never croaked with thirst. My cheeks were flushed, and my heart was singing.

I caught sight of the face of the man who wore the features of my husband. He was smiling arrogantly in exactly that triumphant way Vai had when he knew he’d bested you.

Noble Ba’al! They meant to distract me by gifting me with the ability to play well enough to keep up with them. I could lose myself in the play for a hundred years and forget everything but the thrill of my pounding heart and my gaze fixed on the ball, seeking an opening. I had to concentrate.

I ran up beside the boatman. “I need to score a goal,” I said.

He nodded. “We shall position yee up to the western eye. Yee must manage the rest, gal.”

I raced sideways to the west flank of the ballcourt, marked by carvings of owls, as he worked my teammates down the court with the ball between them. So had I helped him once, risking my life for no benefit except that it was the right thing to do. Every time one of our opponents would catch the ball on knee or elbow or hip, my team would steal it back.

The head spun to me at exactly the right speed and angle. A slap with my elbow sent it flying through the hurricane’s eye, a stone circle.

The ballcourt dissolved around me into a swirl of angry mist as the helpful opia fled laughing and my opponents cursed and shrieked.

I stood in a Taino house large enough that it easily sheltered many serious-looking men and women dressed in white cotton and adorned with feather headdresses, beaded collars, and jade bracelets. The roof was lost in shadow far above, sprinkled with lights like stars. Vines grew up the huge wood pillars that held the roof. From the ceiling beams hung painted gourds as vast as ponds and sloshing with fish. A mound of young cassava plants surrounded me. I stood with my sandals in the dirt; leaves tickled my calves. A saber-toothed cat slouched into view behind the seated personages, my sword tied over its back. He turned aside to drink from a pool of water.

“Rory!” I cried. “Never touch food or drink in the spirit world!”

He raised his head to remind me he was a spirit creature. His tail lashed.

A round object hurtled through the air right at me. Reflexively, I caught it as it thumped into my chest.

The head of Queen Anacaona had fallen into my arms.

Her dead gaze met mine in a most disconcerting way. “Speak truth, maku. Speak now before the ancestors. Who is responsible for my death?”

10

After everything I had done and seen, I really thought it was too much that I could still be surprised. However, good manners always bridge an awkward chasm.

“Honored Ones! I stand before you like a daughter, who asks for your blessing.” I caught the eye of the man who looked oldest and smiled winningly at him, for the smiles of young women could often soften the hearts of old men. He did not look amused, so I quickly retrenched. “I have arrived unexpectedly here, not knowing what you want of me.”

“We want justice,” said the head of Queen Anacaona. “You allowed the hunter who rides at the behest of the foreign courts to cross the Great Smoke and raid into our country, resulting in my death. Answer, maku.”

I recollected Keer’s questions, coming at the debate sideways instead of head-on. “You shouldn’t have invaded Expedition Territory.”

“Do you scold me, child? The Council of Expedition broke the First Treaty, which their ancestors and ours swore to uphold. That gave the Taino the right and the obligation to invade, to protect our people from diseases like the salt plague.”

Here was an opening I could exploit! “It’s true that Expedition’s Council violated the terms of the First Treaty. But the Council no longer rules Expedition. The people of Expedition replaced the corrupt Council with a new Assembly. It is not justice to punish the Assembly for actions they did not commit.” I surveyed the gathered ancestors. They were patient, as the dead can be, but I had an idea they were not going to be patient for long. I had to strike quickly. “Furthermore, you had no right to quarantine me on Salt Island, because I was clean. I was never infested with the salt plague. Isn’t that true? Wasn’t I clean?”

Queen Anacaona’s brown cheeks suffused with natural color, as if blood pumped through them even though she had no heart. “You were clean. And Expedition does indeed have a new government. But both those things are beside the point, as I believe you know. Is it true, or is it not true, that a pack of maku spirit hunters crossed the Great Smoke and raided into our country?”

“What is the Great Smoke?”

“Do they teach the young nothing in your country? The Great Smoke is the ocean of all existence. It embraces all things, just as the ocean of water in the mortal world embraces all lands. It is not easy to cross the Great Smoke, for Leviathan guards it. But it can be done. Long ago, behiques wove a spirit fence around Taino country precisely to keep out the spirit lords from other territories in the spirit world because we did not want them to walk into our lands and disturb us. So let me ask you again. Did the maku spirit hunters cross from your land to ours on a road made of your bone and blood because in your nature and living body you partake both of the spirit world and the mortal world? Was it your presence, your body, that cut a gate in the spirit fence with which we protect ourselves? Did the Hunt enter the land because of you? Speak the truth, maku. Be warned. In this country, lies are knives you wield against your own flesh.”

The ancestors’ gazes pressed against me as if they were invisible blades waiting to cut my flesh to ribbons. I had to tell the truth, but not because of the knives. I had to tell the truth because this was a court of law. One did not lie in such a place.

“The Hunt did enter your country because I cut a gate in the fence. The Master of the Wild Hunt compelled me to lead him to the dragon dreamer, to my cousin, Beatrice. I never knew there was a spirit fence around your country. I never knew I could cut through it, and that cutting through it would leave your lands vulnerable. For that, I am truly sorry.”

Her gaze had a shine that was not like living eyes but more like polished wood beads. I could almost see my reflection in it. “Who turned the eyes and will of the hunter onto me? Who was the instrument of my death?”