Dreamsnake

Grum peered at her in surprise, then glanced down at her shoulder. The pinpricks were bright red but not bleeding. “No more?”

“That’s all.”

Grum smiled and turned toward Ao. “You see, old pothole, it’s nothing.”

“We wait,” Ao said.

The morning progressed smoothly. A few of the children cried, more because of the sting of the alcohol than the shallow pricks of the inoculator. Pauli had offered to help, and amused the little ones with stories and jokes while Snake worked. Most of the children, and not a few of the adults, remained to listen to Pauli after Snake had vaccinated them.

Apparently Ao and the other collectors were reassured about the safety of the vaccine, for no one had yet fallen down dead when their turn came. They submitted stoically to needle pricks and alcohol sting.

“No lockjaw?” Ao said again.

“This will protect you for ten years or so. After that it’s safest to get another vaccination.”

Snake pressed the inoculator against Ao’s arm, then swabbed the skin. After a moment of grim hesitation, Ao smiled, for the first time, a wide, delighted smile. “We fear lockjaw. An evil disease. Slow. Painful.”

“Yes,” Snake said. “Do you know what causes it?”

Ao put one forefinger against the palm of the other hand and made a skewering gesture. “We are careful, but…”

Snake nodded. She could see how the collectors might get serious puncture wounds more often than other people, considering their work. But Ao knew the connection between the injury and the disease; a lecture about it would be patronizing.

“We never see healers before. Not on this side of the desert. People from other side tell us.”

“Well, we’re mountain people,” Snake said. “We don’t know much about the desert, so not many of us come here.” That was only partly true, but it was the easiest explanation to give.

“None before you. You first.”

“Maybe.”

“Why?”

“I was curious. I thought I might be useful.”

“You tell others to come too. No danger for them.” Suddenly the expression on Ao’s weather-creased face darkened. “Crazies, yes, but no more than in mountains. Crazies everywhere.”

“I know.”

“Sometime we find him.”

“Will you do one thing for me, Ao?”

“Anything.”

“The crazy took nothing but my maps and my journal. I suppose he’ll keep the maps if he’s sane enough to use them, but the journal’s worthless to anyone but me. Maybe he’ll throw it away and your people will find it.”

“We keep it for you!”

“That’s what I’d like.” She described the journal. “Before I leave I’ll give you a letter for the healers’ station in the north mountains. If a messenger going that way took the journal and the letter there they’d be sure to get paid.”

“We look. We find many things but not books too often.”

“Probably it’ll never turn up, I know that. Or the crazy thought it was something valuable and burned it when he realized it wasn’t.”

Ao flinched at the thought of perfectly good paper being burned to nothing. “We look hard.”

“Thank you.”

Ao went off after the other collectors.

As Pauli finished the story of Toad and the Three Tree Frogs, Snake checked the children and was glad not to find the swelling and redness of any allergic reactions.

“ ‘And Toad didn’t mind not being able to climb trees any more,’ ” Pauli said. “And that’s the end. Go on home, now. You’ve all been very good.”

They ran off in a bunch, yelling and making frog-croak sounds. Pauli sighed and relaxed. “I hope the real frogs don’t think mating time’s arrived out of season. We’ll have them hopping all over camp.”

“That’s the kind of chance an artist takes,” Snake said.

“An artist!” Pauli laughed and started rolling up her sleeve.

“You’re as good as any minstrel I’ve ever heard.”

“Storyteller, maybe” Pauli said. “But not a minstrel.”

“Why not?”

“I’m tone-deaf, I can’t sing.”

“Most of the minstrels I’ve met can’t make a story. You have a gift.”

Snake prepared the inoculator and put it against Pauli’s velvet-soft skin. The tiny needles sparkled in the drop of vaccine they held.

“Are you sure you want this scar here?” Snake asked suddenly.

“Yes, why not?”

“Your skin’s so beautiful I hate to mark it.” Snake showed Pauli her free hand, the scars. “I think I envy you a little bit.”

Pauli patted Snake’s hand, her touch as gentle as Grum’s but steadier, and with more strength behind it. “Those are scars to take pride in. I’ll be proud of the one you give me. Whoever sees it will know I’ve met a healer.”

Reluctantly, Snake pressed the needles against Pauli’s arm.

Snake rested through the hot afternoon, as did everyone else in camp. She had nothing else to do after she wrote Ao’s letter, nothing to pack. She had nothing left. Squirrel would carry only his saddle, for the frame was intact and Snake could have the leather repaired. Other than that and the clothes she wore, she had only the serpent case, and Mist and Sand, and the ugly sand viper in the place where Grass should be.