Flying with Tufani was nothing like the previous couple of times I found myself in the air. Every change of direction, every flap of Cloud’s wings, was smooth and gentle. Cloud responded instantly to Tufani’s directions and Tufani seemed keenly aware of the bird’s every movement and her condition. I could tell that things were a little bit awkward simply because I was there and no matter how I tried to press myself to the side, I was always partially in the way. Still, bird and rider made it look as simple as breathing.
The only time I really had to worry about not hitting Tufani in the face was when we went to land. No matter how gentle Cloud was, she couldn’t help the inevitable slight thump when her feet hit the ground again.
From the air, it had looked nearly the same as the rest of the woodland, except for the odd long clearing Cloud landed in. From the ground, it immediately became clear that this wasn’t some uninhabited bit of wilderness. Bits of twine hung from all of the surrounding trees, and each string supported small wooden sculptures. None were bigger than my hand, but they ranged from animals and plants to abstract shapes and decorations. Nothing practical.
I stared at the blatant waste of wood. They could have served as tinder for a hundred different fires or, if they couldn’t be burned, they could have at least been made into something useful. Bowls. Spoons. Other tools.
Instead they hung there like every tribe I knew wasn’t always scrambling to get their hands on fallen wood. Like the dead bits had every right to stay clinging to the living trees. Did the Carvers really have such free rein that the goddess let them do whatever they wanted with Her trees?
Tufani commenting on my wide eyed stare as she finished getting the ladder and herself untied. “Apprentice works.”
“They keep all of them?” I got to work unknotting my ties as well.
She snorted as she shook her head. “Only the ones deemed their ‘mini masterwork’. The piece that shows they’re ready to start learning how to carve Mazes.”
We slipped down the ladder and I went over to inspect one of the carvings while Tufani finished up with Cloud. A small reindeer hung over my head, too high to reach. Still, I could see that each delicate antler had been carved to perfect points and the spill of wildflowers around its hooves looked ready to sway in the breeze. It was more precise work than anyone I knew could do in their craft—except for, perhaps, Fellen’s mother when it came to weaving and felt work.
Seeing the wooden sculpture up close made it seem like less like arrogant waste, even if it was still an extravagance. I could understand apprentices needing to practice, but part of me still didn’t like seeing so much wood that had been shaped by human hand. Normally that was left to the goddess, or only for necessities, like spears. Not decorations.
Tufani called me back over to her. She loaded me down with a jug and sack over one shoulder before she took up the rest and thumped forward with her cane in hand. Cloud seemed content to rest in the snowy clearing as I followed the Tamer into the woods.
She gestured to a nearby tree with a tilt of her head. “If you ever find yourself near another Carver’s Enclave find the eyes and follow where they are looking. That’ll get you to their door.”
My gaze followed her gesture and I spotted an eye carved on the underside of the pine’s branch. My heart skipped a beat—it looked exactly like the goddess’s eye, but rather than its pupil sitting front and center, it was focused down and to the side. I followed the carved eye’s gaze only to find another eye carved in the trunk of a tree, just above its roots.
After that I couldn’t stop finding carved eyes. One chained into another and the next as long as you knew what to look for. Otherwise, they might have seemed like knots in the wood or someone’s odd idea of worship. It didn’t take long before we reached the end of the marked path: a large eye trailing stars carved into another tree trunk that stared straight back at us. There wasn’t an obvious tree that it would have been pointing to and Tufani stopped walking. It didn’t seem like she was lost, so I held my tongue and waited.
Tufani glanced over at me. “Just because you find their door, doesn’t mean that they’ll let you in.” Then louder toward the tree, “May the fires burn and the stars catch my last wish.” The formality dropped from her voice as she continued, “I brought the good stuff! I can either bring it back to the Rookery or you can let me and the girl in.”
My mouth went dry as I watched a good portion of the tree’s trunk split from the rest and swing open. It had looked as real as every other tree I had seen in my whole life. But I knew normal trees didn’t have secret doors leading to hollow insides. Had it been a live tree once? Was the goddess really fine with one of Her trees being carved wide open?
Lightning didn’t strike down the figure standing inside the tree nor did any roots drag her below ground. A glow seemed to be coming from inside the tree, but it was too dim to bring back real color to the woman’s features. She was thin with hair piled on top of her head, strong forearms, and a tunic dress that was belted around her waist. The belt had a variety of different pouches and tools hanging from it. I didn’t spot any weapons though, not even a sling.
She had an ageless quality about her and it made her seem like she could be anywhere from twenty to over five decades like Grandmother. Something else was odd about her too, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it given the contrasting shadows hiding half her features.
The woman gestured lazily downward. “Coming?”
Tufani strode forward. “If you take some of your gifts. That ladder will get the best of me this time otherwise.”
The woman took the jug from Tufani like it was a precious prize before focusing on me. “And who is this?”
“Gimley, one of the new Sprouts. A troublemaker but I thought you’d be of interest to each other because of her blessing.”
“Interesting.”
That was all the woman said before she adjusted her grip on the jug and disappeared down into where the ground and tree roots should have been. I peered into the fake tree to find that she had been standing on a stone lip that jutted out a few inches below the doorway. In turn a stone ladder descended straight down from the ledge. The glow was coming from there as well as some sounds of conversation.
Tufani said, “Follow Magda and I’ll get the entrance.”
I wasn’t thrilled about climbing into the small space, and my mind tried to conjure memories of Flickermark’s exit tunnel and the staircase tunnel in the Seed Landing, but I wasn’t already spiraling so I focused on all the unexpected oddities the night had brought, things the memories had no way to cling to, and climbed down the ladder as quickly as I could with a jug in one hand and a sack over my shoulder.
Thankfully, the space opened up around me by the time I was halfway down the stupid ladder. Once I reached the ground I turned to find a large cavern full of artificial beauty. Stalagmites had been painstakingly carved into miniature trees, mostly pines, but a couple were like the amber tree in the Seed Landing. Other stone outcroppings had been turned into mounds of delicate plants or carved wildlife. Across the chamber I spotted a carved bane pack sprinting and leaping after some invisible prey.
But the thing that drew my eye the most was the head sized boulder glowing red hot in the middle of the cavern. It didn’t scorch the rock around it, like the pine cone lanterns, but I could feel the warm heat it gave off and it was the main source of the light in the room. Some glowing moss helped brighten the darkest corners.
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“Our Ember.” Magda’s soft voice drew my focus back to her and I realized a couple things.
Her washed out coloring hadn’t just been due to moonlight and shadows. Everything about her had an ashen, pale complexion, not exactly like the gray skin of the shamble men but not far from it either. Everything was duller like…she was missing something everyone else took for granted.
The second thing I realized was that what I had initially taken as a smudge of shadow or dirt on her jaw was actually a bless mark. A very washed out bless mark that looked like it could be rubbed away with a bit of cloth and water.
I bit back the questions pressing on my tongue and looked back at the chamber, this time focusing on the people I had ignored before. Some were grouped in conversation, others working on some project or another, and a handful more sleeping. There were women and men, no children though some looked like they couldn’t be long past earning their mark of adulthood. And they all had the same ashy, washed out look as Magda. I doubted that all the women had bless marks, but I would have bet that all their marks looked the same as Magda.
Tufani thumped down next to me and set her cane on the floor with a grateful sigh. “I couldn’t stop gawking the first time I came down here too.”
I clicked my mouth shut and glared at her, momentarily distracted, which irked me more since that was probably her intention.
Tufani looked more amused than impressed by my glare when she said, “Ask your top question and then we’ll get this stuff put away.”
There were too many things that needed answers: how Tufani got involved with the Carvers, the odd state of the Carvers coloration and marks, the Ember, how they got the wood to make all their sculptures and Mazes, the stone carvings…
I knew better than to take too long settling on a question though, so I went with the one that seemed the most pressing. I touched my jaw where Magda’s bless mark would be. “How can you be a Carver and not a whisper woman?”
“The wood called.” Her gaze got a faraway look. “The shadows didn’t.”
I demanded, “What does that mean?”
Surprisingly, it was Tufani who answered, “It’s rare but from what I hear the boons don’t always take.”
And you couldn’t be a whisper woman without them.
Dread pooled in my stomach. That wasn’t an option I had even considered before. Which was idiotic of me, but I had a bless mark and everyone who had a bless mark became whisper women. That’s how it was supposed to work.
But the whisper women wouldn’t be nearly as effective without their boons. If for some reason one of the four refused to imprint on a seedling…that person would be cut out of vital skills that the whisper women relied on. If they couldn’t travel through shadow then someone else would always have to take to them or if they didn’t get the boon to wind whisper they wouldn’t be able to hear or send the long distance communications that kept the whisper women informed. I wasn’t sure if not getting dark sight or resistance to the elements would matter as much, but it would still put the seedling at a distinct disadvantage.
Enough of a disadvantage that the goddess might decide you had no place among Her whisper women and sentenced you to become a different kind of servant.
My gaze lingered on the men in the crowd. They couldn’t have been seedlings once. Failing as a seedling couldn’t be the only way to become a Carver. Nor did that failure explain the uniform washed out state they all had. That had to do with how someone became a Carver and it uncomfortably reminded me of shamble men and Picker band lips.
I opened my mouth to ask another question but Tufani cut me off, “Patience. Let’s get our things taken care of and then we can see about answering more questions. I believe there might be some for you as well.”
Magda led us over to a large nook burrowed into the cavern’s right wall. However instead of placing the sacks and jugs inside like I expected, she gestured for me to go inside. “Wait here.”
I looked to Tufani, not liking the sound of that or the idea of being abandoned in an unfamiliar place.
She tapped her cane against the ground. “You’ll be fine and we’ll be back. I was only given permission to accompany Magda to the outermost inner chambers a handful of years ago.”
The temptation to be difficult or clever tasted sweet on my tongue but I kept it in check. Perhaps if I had still been at the Rookery or among some other tribe, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to do so under the tight lipped Carver’s gaze. After all, if I ever did die, it’d be a Carver’s Maze that helped my soul to the Silver Forest.
Magda took up my sack with the others she was already carrying and then I was left alone in the cavern with only a jug for company. I sat on the edge of the nook rather than go all the way in even though it did have a nice mat to sit on. Instead I watched the other Carvers and they eyed me back.
Nothing they did seemed that different from the people I was used to, but the more I had time to think about it, the more it seemed odd that they weren’t celebrating the Heartsong Festival. No one danced or sang. There wasn’t even festival foods or someone telling one of the myths. This seemed like a normal night to them; some people staying up to socialize or work on a project while others settled down for the night. Why wouldn’t they celebrate the goddess and Her Beloved? Why wouldn’t they take advantage of the chance to dance and sing and break from routine?
I hated not having all the answers, but there was no way I was going to get them unless I marched up to someone and they were nice enough to reply. This didn’t seem like the kind of place to appreciate that sort of behavior and I still wasn’t keen to overstep. So, instead, I waited an eternity for for Tufani and Magda to return while I couldn’t decide if I wished I hadn’t followed the Tamer or not.
When they returned they had another person in tow. The man had dark skin, though he still had the same washed out look as Magda. Despite the cold weather outside he wore a sleeveless tunic and pants with his long curly hair tied in a knot at the back of his head. He fiddled with a piece of wood as big as my hand and smiled at me when they reached the nook.
Tufani introduced him. “This is Ekail, Magda’s partner. We thought he could answer your questions best while I catch up with Magda.”
Ekail helped her take the large step up into the nook and then Tufani got settled onto the mat and set down the cups she had been carrying. Magda followed her and started organizing the portable game of circles and stones she had brought. Ekail settled on the nook’s edge opposite of me, one knee tucked up near his chest, pulled a tool from the pouches on his belt, and started carving the piece of wood he had brought.
I sat there and tried to adjust to this sudden shift in circumstances again. I didn’t particularly want to talk to a man I didn’t know, but it seemed like it was the only way I was going to learn more.
Ekail took my staring out into the cavern as interest. “The pine dripping with silk flowers is my favorite but don’t tell the bane pack that. Those are my own work.”
I blinked at him. “A bane pack nearly captured me once.”
He frowned slightly back. “I heard they were more for killing and eating.”
“They are.”
His frown stayed until his gaze caught on the dots on my chin. Then his expression cleared. “Ah, those methods might not have worked the best for them with you?”
I was getting tired of people recognizing me and knowing things I had never told them. It was even more unsettling that somehow that information had traveled all the way to the Carver’s ears—nor did sound like Tufani had been the one to reveal who I was.
So I might have sounded a bit sulky when I responded, “Not the killing part at least.”
He nodded like this cleared up something else for him. “No wonder then that Tufani thought to bring you along.”
My eyebrows drew together and he caught the movement. His hands continued to work as he asked, “What do you know of Carvers?”
I shifted back further against the wall. It felt like a trick question. Of course I wouldn’t know a lot about Carvers. “More now.” He waited patiently and it reminded me of Rawley enough that I found myself adding more of an explanation. “You make the Mazes that secure the body and release the soul after death. You carve little wood sculptures that others could burn for survival and you look like death warmed over.”
I wasn’t in the mood to be charitable any more even if he was a Carver. Tufani cut off in the middle of the story she was telling Magda to scold me, but Ekail stopped her with a raised hand as he burst into full bellied laughter. When he wiped his eyes a few moments later there was some annoyed muttering from the rest of the chamber but no one got on him about the loud noise.
Tufani still got her scolding in before she returned to her story, “Mind what I said about needling people, hm?”
I glared at the ground in front of me but that was as much in annoyance at her as it was trying to avoid Ekail’s gaze. I hadn’t expected sincere, loud laughter from him, didn’t know what to do with it, and I didn’t want to accidentally provoke it again.
“We do, don’t we?” He laughed again, but it was quieter. “Well, that’s as it should be.”
That was enough to get my interest piqued again. “Why is that?”
His hands got back to carving. “Other than you and Her Beloved we probably live the longest. But it’s different for us. We don’t have a blessing that keeps us from the stars.”
My eyes were so wide it felt like they might pop from my skull. “You live forever?”
He shook his head. “No, just longer. I think Old Ion is the oldest now at over two hundred naming days.”
“How?”
His smile got caught somewhere between proud and sad. “You know that old myth about shamble men and getting locked in the Carver’s Maze when you die if they touch you?”
I nodded.
“Well, it’s two parts wrong and one part right. If you accept a shamble man’s last wish then you have to become a Carver.”
I licked my lips. “Last wish?”
“True death.” He answered my next question before I could ask it. “We take on their curse for them so they can finally rest.”