Kingdom of Cages(164)

Emerging slowly from the water was the hardest thing Chena ever had to do, but she did it. She clamped a hand coated with blood and muck over her mouth to stifle the gagging, gasping noise of her breath and tried to clear the filthy water out of her eyes with the other.

The moonlight showed her a pair of blurry human silhouettes bent over something that had to be her pack. One of them straightened up. Chena froze, trying to be a rock, a hunk of grass, anything but what she was—a human, a murderer, hunted. Her pursuer swept its gaze over and past her without pausing. When it turned its back to her, Chena dared to breathe again. One of the pursuers shouldered her pack and began walking away, away from the complex, and away from her.

Triumph flowed through her feet, and trembling, but real, and enough to warm her for a few seconds.

Take that, take that. Thought you could just sneak up on me, didn’t you?

But triumph and its warmth didn’t last, and Chena began to shiver. Her lungs ached, her mouth tasted of swamp, cold reached down into her bones, and she had nothing to cure any of it.

Gritting her teeth to keep them from chattering, Chena slipped out into the open water. On her knees, her chin skimming the pond, she followed the ones who thought they were her pursuers.

They never thought to look back. They walked a weaving path, mostly keeping to the water, shining their scanners into the reeds and the shadows made by the tiny islands. They explored clusters of water hyacinths and purple flags, and still didn’t look behind them to see the form swimming like a strange crocodile, trying to keep itself mostly submerged despite the fact that its hands were going numb with cold.

They had reached the edge of the marsh, and the hothousers tramped out onto dry land. Chena considered. She wanted out of this water that wormed its way into every pore of her skin, filling her up to the brim with cold. But beyond the reeds, she’d have no cover. The moonlight could show her up easily.

Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes, but Chena stayed where she was, sheltered beside a decaying log and all the thick stench of the swamp. The sound of footsteps on grass faded away.

It took forever. Chena’s nose began to run and her skin felt so heavy she was surprised it didn’t slide off her body. But somewhere out there, her pursuers got new orders, and she heard them again, turning around, retracing their routes. A tidy line of maybe ten, maybe twenty fanned out across the swamp, still searching, but less diligently now. They moved faster. They wanted to get inside too.

Be glad to let you, thought Chena a little hysterically as they splashed into the water. Live and let live, right? Right?

Six inches from her, a hothouser walked past. It did not pause. It did not see. It faded away into the night, and the frogs began to talk about its passage.

One slow inch at a time, Chena crept out of the water. Shivering so badly she could barely control her movements, she crawled into the shelter of the trees.

Leaves and branches blotted out the moon and Chena lay curled in on herself for a moment in complete darkness. The loamy ground felt soft underneath her and she just wanted to lie there until the shivering stopped.

No, she told herself. You’ve got to keep going. You’re not covered. They can spot you. They can catch you, take you back.

Or maybe they’ll decide you’re too much trouble to take back.

She remembered the people who landed in the grasslands, and the ants, and jerked herself upright.

“Where do I go?” she murmured to the night. She couldn’t go straight back to Nan Elle. The place would be watched. Where else? Farin, in Stem? Did they know about him? He’d been with her on the boat to Peristeria. He was on record as her cousin. So he’d probably be watched too, but he went out a lot more than Nan Elle did. It would be easier for her to get a message to him, so he could get one to Nan Elle. There had to be someplace she could stay, get warm, get out of the dark. Farin would help. Farin wouldn’t turn her away just because she’d killed somebody.

Stop it. Basante helped kill Mom. You know he did. He deserved it.

A violent wave of shivers took hold of her, shaking the breath out of her lungs. Chena wrapped her arms around herself and waited for the fit to pass.

Come on. You know what to do. Do it!

Crouching down, Chena peeked through the tree line. The night had remained clear, giving her both moon and stars to work with. She found the northern triangle without difficulty and set off, following the edge of the tree line.

The night around her was not that cold. She could barely see her breath in the moonlight, but she was soaked head to foot and every breeze felt like a fresh blast of ice. Her jaw ached from clenching her teeth to keep them still. But movement helped keep her circulation going. Eventually her clothes would have to dry. Eventually her blood would have to warm. It would have to. There was no choice.