the face of a baby. Her gorge rose and, falling to her knees, she began helplessly vomiting. Serge was at her side, wiping her face with a cloth which he had wet from a waterskin he carried. The water was a brief blessed touch of balance on her skin before the horror of what she was seeing swept over her again.
Death. The river, the element of water, which should be a force of life, was only full of death. The bodies of animals that had been poisoned by it were littered everywhere and the grass and flowers along the bank were blackened husks.
Jindabyne began sobbing. She tried to crawl forward and fill the wound in the life spirit with her own life spirit. Hands grabbed at her, but still she struggled forward. The closer she got, the more overwhelming the horror became. The stench of it filled her head, the physical anguish of it made her shudder all over as if afflicted by a fever. Then, mercifully, everything went black.
***
As Alyx’s party prepared to go after the Gibadgee, her mother came out of her enclosure to wish them good hunting. She wore a black cloth mask over her whole head which left only narrow slits for her eyes and a hooded black robe that covered her body and her hair.
I wish she didn’t have to wear that thing in public. She looks so sinister, thought Alyx.
“Another bird has come. They are taking the Wulpunya path towards the river,” said her mother.
“Then they will see what has happened to it.”
“Yes.”
“We will have to kill them, then,” said Alyx. The thought was frightening. She had always wondered what would happen to her if she broke this greatest Tari taboo.
“No!”
The party leader spoke up. “Do not fear Lady, I will not let the Forest Child pollute herself with human blood.”
“You must bring them back alive,” said Elena. “I have use for them.”
The leader bowed her head, obviously troubled by the order, but the Mori rarely disagreed with Elena. She turned and ordered the party to go.
Alyx could not help being afraid. She knew how her mother felt about these particular Gibadgee, and Yani wasn’t here to keep things calm.
“Mother! Wouldn’t it be better to kill them outright and be done with it? The life spirit doesn’t allow vengeance. You have told me this often.”
“Don’t preach to me, child!” snapped Elena. “Go! Do as you are bid.”
As she jogged away through the trees after the rest of the party, Alyx’s heart was heavy. She had only been six years old when they had been captives of the Mirayans and her memories of that time were hazy. Sometimes in dreams she relived the terrifying night in a barn when she had seen an evil man kill a woman and threaten her mother. Otherwise she had been kept separate from her mother and her greatest suffering had been her fearful longing to see her.
The time after they were rescued had been much worse. Her aunts had taken them to hide with their foster parents on a swampy island many miles from other people and her mother had been like someone dying of an invisible wound - pale, staring at nothing, weeping when she thought Alyx couldn’t hear.
She and her mother had shared a small room at the back of the farmstead. One morning Alyx had woken up in the grey time before sunrise to find her mother gone. Frightened, she had jumped up to look for her, and seen her in the distance walking into the sea with a heavy bag slung over her shoulder. Full of fear, Alyx had run after her. When she got to the shore, there was no sign of her mother and no answer to her desperate cries. Staring at the empty sea and sky, she was overwhelmed by the sense that she would never see her mother again.
Then suddenly the sun broke through the early morning clouds and turned the world as golden as the life spirit, and her mother’s head broke the surface of the water. Much later, she realised that her mother had tried to kill herself that day.
How will her pain express itself when she is faced with the one who caused it?
By the time Alyx’s party had reached the Wulpunya path and caught up with Didier and the others, the Gibadgee party had split up. The Tari woman, Jindabyne, had ordered them to stay and had gone on towards the river with only two companions. The rest of the party had set watch, settled down to wait and had been easily outnumbered and disarmed by the Mori. The only difficulty was the child’s screaming, which their mage quickly stilled with a sleep spell.
“She wants the others alive, as well,” said the Mori leader as she left to escort the prisoners back to the camp.
“I knew that when I saw the Forest Child,” said Didier. He sighed. “We can ill afford so many extra mouths.”
Alyx cursed silently. Who the hell would want to be half-Tari? Tari were forbidden to kill, forbidden even to collude in killing, though Alyx knew her mother had ordered attacks on Mirayan intruders before. How could one protect one’s people against enemies under such circumstances? The Gibadgee were not so handicapped. If Alyx had had some of the Taris’ great magic, the taboo might have been practical. But her only skill was the ability to pass her life spirit to others, a limited ability at best.
“Why do the Mori accept Tari rulers?” she muttered to Didier as they crouched together.
Didier smiled at her. Mentor, bodyguard, almost foster father, he could be very stern but he had a kind heart.
“Stop it,” he whispered. “Tari are holy conduits of Labwa’s love for his children. There is no shame in being unable to kill other men.”
“What do you think my mother wants with these people?”
Didier’s face clouded. He knew more of Elena’s past than most Mori. “I don’t know,” he said, adding, “But she is still Tari. We must trust her to do right.”
“What if...?” Alyx struggled to put her dread into words. She herself felt bitter hatred towards the people who had robbed her of her father and she had not been half as harmed by them as her mother.
“Ssh! Here they come.” Didier’s face became still and alert
Two young warriors came down the path. One had the facial tattoos and torc of a high-class Seagani and the other was a Mirayan, judging by his fair skin and hair. Their faces showed great distress, cheeks stained by tears. The Mirayan carried an unconscious woman in his arms.
Jindabyne! The woman who had delivered Alyx and her mother to their enemies. Alyx was aware of a feeling of satisfaction. Seeing the ruined river the first time had affected Alyx in much the same way.
May the life spirit give the bitch terrible dreams!
The moment the men stumbled past them, Didier rose from the undergrowth and gave the signal to move in.
As always in these situations, Alyx had been told to hang back, and this time she did as she was told. The rest of the Mori simply stepped out of the undergrowth with their swords drawn blocking all escape routes. Two young Gibadgee knew they were outnumbered and only protested when someone put an iron collar on Jindabyne and took her away.
Now was the time for Alyx to step forward. The others spoke only halting Mirayan, and of course the Gibadgee spoke no Mori. And trade talk was no language for speaking to enemies.
She looked at Serge Madraga, the son of her father’s murderer, expecting to see what? Cunning? The signs of an evil spirit? Cowardice?
He was surprisingly good-looking and the frank admiration in his stare caught her off-guard, making her stumble over the vehement words she had been rehearsing in her head. Annoyed, she recovered quickly.
“You are Serge Madraga, youngest son of the late Duke Wolf and this is the Lady Jindabyne,” she said in her fluent Mirayan, learned during her captivity.
The young Mirayan closed his mouth and the admiration went out of his eyes. She could see him thinking about lying.
“Do not trouble to lie. We have already