Raging Star Read Online Free PDF Page B

tell him. Thanks fer nuthin. You led him straight here.
    He drops onto my lap then climbs my front to nibble on my ear. He always does that when he feels guilty. The thing is, he likes DeMalo an he knows he shouldn’t. He’d of gone fer the dogs in my defence, no problem. But he’d never harm DeMalo an the dogs was with him, so he must of got confused.
    Whose side are you on? I says. I hug him close an stroke his breast feathers. They’re growin back good. Where DeMalo’s hawk wounded him, where DeMalo stitched him—a monthago now—it’s healed well. Who am I to talk? I says. Whose side am I on? I had him an I couldn’t kill him. I couldn’t. What the hell’s wrong with me? I kiss Nero’s head. We cain’t tell nobody about this, you hear?
    He chitters agreement. Nero. Th’only livin creature I can speak to freely these days. I gotta guard myself close with everybody else. A leader tells her people as little as possible, only what they need to know. That’s somethin I learned from Slim.
    More people will die. People you care about. Your sister. Your brother
.
    Lugh, I says. Ohmigawd, Lugh, of course. C’mon, we gotta git to the rendezvous. Make sure they all made it okay. I jump to my feet. Nero spills to the ground with a squawk of protest. As I gather my gear, I says, They’ll be wonderin where we are. Emmi’ll be inside out with worry. Nero, we gotta go. C’mon.
    He plays deaf. Beak deep in his birdy armpit, mutterin somethin about a mite. He’ll catch me up later. When it suits him.
    I shoulder my barksack an bow. As I pass, I wrench my arrow from the tree.
    It’s the first time in my life I ever shot to miss.

    I’m cautious as I leave the pool. I set a course due north fer the rendezvous point at Painted Rock. I keep my eyes sharp, my ears keen, my bolt shooter ready in my hand. All clear. Nuthin untoward. No sound in the woods but the sounds of a wood. The bubble chat of warblers. The sigh of the wind. The creak of trees as they ease their bones.
    After a couple hunnerd foot, I start to relax. Then. Behind me. A shift in the air. Not a sound, but somebody’s there. As I start to move, a gun shoves me in the neck. Hard to the base of my skull. I stop dead. I know the feel of that snubby nose. A shortbolt shooter. A fast blast. A messy end.
    The voice comes from close behind me. I’ll be takin your weapons an pack. An it’s all the same to me if I have to kill you for ’em. You’re gonna drop your gun first, then your bow. One at a time, nice an easy.
    It’s a woman. She’s steady-handed with the shortbolt. I can tell by the angle she’s taller’n me. A whisker below six foot.
    I let my shooter fall to the ground. She smells of earth an sweat. She sounds of hard years an hard choices. Somethin starts to jig at the edge of my mind. I hesitate a moment.
    I said, the bow! She presses the shortbolt fiercer, deeper into the tender spot between my spine an skull. I slide it offa my shoulder. My rare whiteoak bow, the gift of a shaman. I toss it carefully to one side. My quiver follows. I don’t think she’s clocked my knife yet. It’s tucked away in my boot sheath.
    She snatches it. Quick as a rattler, she moves. The knife’s gone an the gun didn’t budge. She’s good. Must have long arms.
    Let’s have your pack, she says.
    I drop that too.
    Hands up, she says. On your head.
    I do it.
    Now, she says. On the ground. Kneel.
    The red hot flashes an I’m back at Pine Top Hill. With Emmi, prisoner of Vicar Pinch. The rest of us beat by him an his Tonton. Outfoxed. Outnumbered. I knelt at his feet an begged fer their lives.
    I don’t kneel fer nobody, I says.
    She grabs my collar. Kicks me. Back of my legs. I’m down. On my knees. Gun hard to my skull.
    Didn’t your pa ever teach you manners? she says.
    Them words. The very same. An I’m thinkin, me an Emmi in a sweetgrass valley. A cabin by a stream, bowls of stew an tough kindness. No. No. It cain’t be her.
    Nero drops from the sky.