Dreamsnake

Snake leaned down, grabbed his robe, and launched herself at him. They went down hard in a tangle. He turned as he fell, and Snake hit the cobbled street, slammed against it by his weight. Somehow she kept hold of him as he struggled to escape her and she fought for breath. She wanted to tell him to drop the case, but she could not yet speak. He struck out at her and she felt a sharp pain across her forehead at the hairline. Snake hit back and they rolled and scuffled on the street. Snake heard the case scrape on stone: she lunged and grabbed it and so did the hooded man. As Sand rattled furiously inside, they played tug of war like children.

“Let it go!” Snake yelled. It seemed to be getting darker and she could hardly see. She knew she had not hit her head, she did not feel dizzy. She blinked her eyes and the world wavered around her. “There’s nothing you can use!”

He pulled the case toward him, moaning in desperation. For an instant Snake yielded, then snatched the case back and freed it. She was so astonished when the obvious trick worked that she fell backward, landed on her hip and elbow, and yelped with the not-quite-pain of a bruised funny bone. Before she could get up again the attacker fled down the street.

Snake climbed to her feet, holding her elbow against her side and tightly clutching the handle of the case in her other hand. As fights went, that one had not amounted to much. She wiped her face, blinking, and her vision cleared. She had blood in her eyes from a scalp cut. Taking a step, she flinched; she had bruised her right knee. She limped toward the mare, who snorted skittishly but did not shy away. Snake patted her. She did not feel like chasing horses, or anything else, again tonight. Wanting to let Mist and Sand out to be sure they were all right, but knowing that would strain the mare’s tolerance beyond its limit, Snake tied the case back on the saddle and remounted.

Snake halted the mare in front of the barn when it loomed up abruptly before them in the darkness. She felt high and dizzy. Though she had not lost much blood, and the attacker never hit her hard enough to give her a concussion, the adrenalin from the fight had worn off, leaving her totally drained of energy.

She drew in her breath. “Stablemaster!”

No one answered for a moment, then, five meters above her, the loft door rumbled open on its tracks.

“He’s not here, mistress,” Melissa said. “He sleeps up in the castle. Can I help?”

Snake looked up. Melissa remained in the shadows, out of the moonlight.

“I hoped I wouldn’t wake you…”

“Mistress, what happened? You’re bleeding all over!”

“No, it’s stopped. I was in a fight. Would you mind going up the hill with me? You can sit behind me on the way up and ride Swift back down.”

Melissa grabbed both sides of a pulley rope and lowered herself hand-over-hand to the ground. “I’d do anything you asked me to, mistress,” she said softly.

Snake reached down and Melissa took her hand and swung up behind her. All children worked, in the world Snake knew, but the hand that grasped hers, a ten year old’s hand, was as calloused and rough and hard as any adult manual laborer’s.

Snake squeezed her legs against Swift’s sides and the mare started up the trail. Melissa held the cantle of the saddle, an uncomfortable and awkward way of balancing. Snake reached back and drew the child’s hands around her waist. Melissa was as stiff and withdrawn as Gabriel, and Snake wondered if Melissa had waited even longer than he for anyone to touch her with affection.

“What happened?” Melissa asked.

“Somebody tried to rob me.”

“Mistress, that’s awful. Nobody ever robs anybody in Mountainside.”

“Someone tried to rob me. They tried to steal my serpents.”

“It must have been a crazy,” Melissa said.

Recognition shivered up Snake’s spine. “Oh, gods,” she said. She remembered the desert robe her attacker had worn, a garment seldom seen in Mountainside. “It was.”

“What?”

“A crazy. No, not a crazy. A crazy wouldn’t follow me this far. He’s looking for something, but what is it? I haven’t got anything anybody would want. Nobody but a healer can do anything with the serpents.”

“Maybe it was Swift, mistress. She’s a good horse and I’ve never seen such fancy tack.”

“He tore up my camp, before Swift was given to me.”

“A really crazy crazy, then,” Melissa said. “Nobody would rob a healer.”

“I wish people wouldn’t keep telling me that,” Snake said. “If he doesn’t want to rob me, what does he want?”

Melissa tightened her grip around Snake’s waist, and her arm brushed the handle of Snake’s knife.

“Why didn’t you kill him?” she asked. “Or stab him good, anyway.”

Snake touched the smooth bone handle. “I never even thought of it,” she said. ‘’I’ve never used my knife against anyone.“ She wondered, in fact, if she could use it against anyone. Melissa did not reply.

Swift climbed the trail. Pebbles spun from her hooves and clattered down the sheer side of the cliff.

“Did Squirrel behave himself?” Snake finally asked.

“Yes, mistress. And he isn’t lame at all now.”