Dreamsnake

The mare, well rested and well fed, would have galloped, but Snake held her to a jog. They had a long way to go.

Swift snorted and Snake woke abruptly, nearly hitting her head on the rock overhang. It was dead noon; in her sleep she had scrunched back into the only remaining shade.

“Who’s there?”

No one answered. There was no reason for anyone to be nearby. Grum’s oasis and the next one before the mountains were two nights apart: Snake had camped for today in rocky wilderness. There were no plants; there was no food or water.

“I’m a healer,” she called, feeling foolish. “Be careful, my serpents are free. Speak or let me see you or make some signal and I’ll put them away.”

No one answered.

There’s no one out there, that’s why, Snake thought. For gods’ sakes, no one’s following you. Crazies don’t follow people. They’re just… crazy.

She lay down again and tried to fall asleep, but every touch of windblown sand against stone roused her. She did not feel comfortable until twilight came and she broke camp and headed east.

The rocky trail up the mountain slowed the horses and made Squirrel’s forefoot tender again. Snake was limping slightly, too, for the change in altitude and temperature affected her bad right knee. But the valley sheltering Mountainside lay just ahead, another hour’s walk. At its beginning the trail had been steep, but they were in the pass; soon they would be beyond the crest of the central mountains’ eastern range. Snake dismounted to let Swift rest.

Scratching Squirrel’s forehead as he nibbled at her pockets, Snake looked back over the desert. A thin haze of dust obscured the horizon, but the nearer black sand dunes lay in rolling opalescence before her, flashing back the reddened sunlight. Heat waves gave the illusion of movement. Once one of Snake’s teachers had described the ocean to her, and this was what she imagined it to look like.

She was glad to leave the desert behind. Already the air had cooled, and grass and bushes clung tenaciously in crevices full of rich volcanic ash. Lower down, the wind scoured sand and earth and ash from each mountain’s flanks. This high, hardy plants grew in sheltered spots, but there was not much water to help them.

Snake turned away from the desert and led the horse and the tiger-pony upward, her boots slipping on wind-polished rock. The desert robe encumbered her in this country, so she took it off and tied it behind the saddle. The loose pants and short-sleeved tunic she wore beneath flapped against her legs and body in the wind. As Snake neared the pass the wind rose, for the narrow cut in the rock acted as a funnel to strengthen any tiny breeze. In a few hours it would be cold. Cold—! She could hardly imagine such a luxury.

Snake reached the summit and stepped into another world. Looking out over the green valley, Snake felt as if she must have left all the misfortunes of the desert behind. Squirrel and Swift both raised their heads and sniffed and snorted at the smell of fresh pasture, running water, other animals.

The town itself spread to either side of the main trail, clusters of stone buildings constructed against the mountain, cut into it, terraced black-on-black. The fields covered the floor of the valley, emerald and golden on the flood plain of a glittering gray river. The far side of the valley, sloping higher than Snake stood now, was wilderness, forest, to just below the western range’s bare stony peaks.

Snake took a deep breath of the clean air and started downward.

The handsome people of Mountainside had encountered healers before. Their deference was colored by admiration and some caution, rather than the fear Snake had found on the other side of the desert. The caution Snake was used to; it was only common sense, for Mist and Sand could be dangerous to anyone but herself. Snake acknowledged respectful greetings with a smile as she led her horses through the cobblestone streets.

Shops were being closed and taverns being opened. By tomorrow, people would start coming to Snake to ask her aid, but she hoped that for tonight they would leave her to a comfortable room at the inn, a good dinner, a flask of wine. The desert had tired her to her bones. If anyone came now, this late, it would be because of serious illness. Snake hoped no one in Mountainside was dying tonight.

She left her horses outside a shop that was still open and bought new pants and a new shirt, choosing the fit by approximation and the owner’s advice, for she was too tired to try them on.

“Never mind,” the owner said. “I can alter them later, if you want. Or bring them back if you don’t like them. I’ll exchange things for a healer.”

“They’ll be fine,” Snake said. “Thank you.” She paid for the things and left the shop. There was a chemistry on the corner, and the proprietor was just shutting the door.

“Excuse me,” Snake said.

The chemist turned, smiling resignedly. Then, glancing over Snake and her gear, she saw the serpent case. The smile turned to surprise.