"Put the stock against your shoulder, almost in your armpit but not quite," said Yvonne. She adjusted the rifle as Dante held it up. "That's right. Snug. Now sight using that little nub on the end of the barrel, lining it up with the middle of the pie plate. Watch out for the recoil."
He aimed and pressed the trigger button. The shot shattered the silence. A porcujette sitting in a nearby pine, screeched and flapped as if hit, but it was the pie plate on top of the bone fence that dinged. Dante jerked a bit with the force.
"Better aim than the first time I shot a gun," he murmured as he handed the rifle to Shaman.
The hita extended a trunk to hold up the gun, then twisted its other snout in imitation of a human hand. The creature bent its head to one side to better sight the target and pressed several rounds. The plate dinged then a post skull shattered into the woods beyond. Shaman seemed to project an air of satisfaction, as if it had hit the human bones on purpose. Yvonne wondered if she should have given the lesson. Too late now.
"Huh. Real. The bones of trespassers?" asked Dante.
"Imperial soldiers dug up from an abandoned battlefield, many years ago. Your friend will like this. The hita wars. Now they guard me." Yvonne gave a thin smile at her son's look of shock. "Doesn't your own Blessed Kore say the body is just a vessel discarded at the end of this life?"
"Yes, she does," he mumbled, staring at the empty spot on the fence. Yvonne's smile turned to a smirk, she had won a theological point against religion.
Dante grabbed the gun and shouldered it again. All his shots went high or hit the top of the plate. The hita took another turn, this time only dinging the plate, as if in respect of its friend's feelings.
"I have some work to attend to," said Yvonne. "Feel free to practise as long as you wish."
"Fine," said Dante, all his attention on the pie plate ringing with bulls eyes from the hita.
She returned to the house, cut up some vegetables and threw them in the reheating stew to freshen it, then sat down and picked up a computer lying on a desk tucked under the small living room window. She pressed the screen and an encrypted summons, safe from prying eyes, wound its invisible way through a maze of computers, hubs, and stations, over the known world and back to a stone house not too far away as the cawquill flies. Dedalus, his thin, balding features stamped with a kinder, more sorrowful imprint of his father and brother, smiled at her from the screen.
"It's been awhile, Yvonne," he said. "How've you been?"
"Dante's alive," she said, ignoring the niceties. "He turned up at my door."
Dedalus' smile grew broader. "Trevor Xian should join our conversation."
"Flirting with terrorists now?"
"You have to have some nobles and magic on your side to win a just war."
"Pleased to finally meet Your Grace, Baba Yaga." The screen split in two and Trevor Xian's grim, proud, Oriental face appeared to the left of Dedalus. Behind him waved the ferns of the southern jungle. " So Prince Dante lives. Brother Francis and Her Highness Bea know what they're about."
"Have Dante come to the computer," said Dedalus.
"I thought it best to talk to you first. He's very wary. I left him outside, practising shooting with the hita,"said Yvonne. "He's been living with them. Communicates with them. Images and emotions. The hita are more intelligent than we think."
"The beasts of the woods listen to him," murmured Trevor.
"I never imagined you clinging to the old superstitions," remarked Yvonne."Ever heard of the opiate of the people, keeping the slaves and poor in their place."
"I use what suits my followers," replied Trevor. "And they hope for the bodhisattva."
"Is he?" asked Dedalus.
"He's very religious and his magic's incredible, if that's what you mean. Even my wraiths obey him. All self taught."Yvonne shook her head. "He lost the hand Yevgeny burned, and, it's a miracle, he created an invisible hand from magic. It's as if it's really there. Even plays the piano."
"Must be for a famous atheist to use the word miracle," said Trevor with a raise of an eyebrow. "How transpo is he?"
Yvonne sighed. "His back's the worst I've ever seen. And, no surprise, he's wary, trusts no one. Did that hiding inside himself that you transpos do, when I mentioned the rod. Has said several times, with force, that he won't be bound to anyone, not even as an apprentice. ‘I'll not be Yevgeny's golem,' he says. And I think that's how he sometimes thinks of himself, as a golem. It's subtle, but when he speaks of humans, it's as if we are the aliens, as if he's not a part of humanity. He says he only visited me because my Black convinced him I knew humans who could stop the killing of the hita. That's a promise we must keep if we want him on our side. I suggest that with his powers, we want him on our side."
"When can I meet him?" asked Dedalus. "Though what this old coward could say to him, I don't know.What was left undone cannot be done up. "
"We all have our regrets," said Yvonne.
"He should be brought to the encampment," said Trevor. "Meeting the other free transpos will help convince him. And we can size him up."
"I'm packing up to go to my southern house in New Kyoto for the winter. It can be rushed," said Dedalus. "He can become part of my household. They're all loyal. And I'm near enough to you to pop over without raising too much suspicion."
"All right," said Yvonne. "Tomorrow then? The sooner he's safe away the better. I have clients arriving in a few days and loose lips gossiping about the man at the Baba's could sink us."
"I'll be waiting with great anticipation. Keep well, Honorable Baba Yaga. I hope we may meet again," said Trevor as he signed off.
"And you."
"Tomorrow then," said Dedalus.
"Yes, tomorrow," said Yvonne as his image disappeared.
She closed her mail program and pottered around for awhile, worrying then remembering that Dedalus had never let her down, making biscuits and a pound cake, cleaning up the house. Wind rattled the windows and she glanced out to see gusts of snow. No shots had rung out for awhile. Perhaps they had retreated to the barn. She would encourage them to join her in the warmth of the house. Yvonne bundled herself up and shuffled through the stinging snow. The animals standing in the hay filled shelter lean-to, plodded towards the barn door as soon as she opened it. A sure sign that the storm would last awhile.
The barn was empty, the fire remains from the morning resting cold and forlorn. They had left, taking Max and the gun. Yvonne felt a keen sense of betrayal, then noticed the packs tossed in a corner. Where had they gone? Yvonne returned bewildered to the house.
No sooner had she taken the cake and biscuits out of the oven than the door burst open to swirls of white, the metallic smell of cold and the odours of man, lizard, dog, and wet fur. Max bounded in followed by two snowy hita bears carrying a skinned, gutted rabbit each.
"Look what we shot with the gun!" exclaimed Dante as he pushed back his fur mask to reveal a face glowing with fresh air and exertion. Yvonne noticed more scars peeping up from the edge of his beard , white against the red of his face, and another wave of sadness engulfed her. What had happened to cause those? She refused to think. Her gleeful hunters held up the rabbits and the pelts.
"Shaman is very impressed," said Dante. The hita gave a rare nod as it pulled off its own hood.
"Don't track snow and wet all over," said Yvonne hiding her relief as she took the game. "I'm glad I won't be eaten completely out of house and home."
"When the caregiver finds a little extra, all eat well," said Dante. "That's a hita saying, lots of images of passing food from the caregivers to the mothers, the little ones, the sick and the old. I call them caregivers, the ones like Shaman that aren't reproducing this time. Could call them guards, hunters, nurses, too, I guess."
"You must write down everything you know about the hita. It's fascinating and proves that they should be protected," said Yvonne.
"I don't think anyone's going to read what a fugitive transpo writes, especially about hita," said Dante with a wry smile and slight shake of his head. "More interested in killing or capturing us."
"I think people will be very interested in what you have to say. Everyone needs to hear you. You don't know how important you are," she replied.
"Yevgeny gave me an idea. I'm worth a few guineas," said Dante.
"You misunderstand me," said Yvonne.
He sent her a look as he stepped out of his heap of furs. "Smell's great in here. Is that cake?"
"Come and have some lunch," she said, wishing she could convince him of her good intentions.
"You're very kind to feed us again."
"No trouble, especially now there'll be roast rabbit for tomorrow's supper," said Yvonne. "Put those furs on the hooks, not in a pile at the door."
"Yes, Baba," said Dante with the little half smile as he picked up his garments and hung them roughly on the hooks along the wall.
Yvonne tucked the rabbits into the fridge and dished up the stew and biscuits.
"On the table," she said, sticking her head around the corner.
Dante sat holding the computer, the hita peering over his shoulder. They scrutinized a gun catalogue. At the sound of her voice, her son gave a guilty start and flicked to the weather channel. They both rose and came to the table, Shaman picking up a small mat to use when sitting on the floor.
Yvonne played with her food, watching her visitors eat in hungry silence. How could she broach the subject of a visit by Dedalus? She could tell him that his other half- brother felt concerned about him and would help him. No. Her son would give her that look again, then he and the hita would melt back into the forest. In fact, any notion that others knew about him, might make Dante disappear. He was so wary. And who could blame him? It just made things so difficult. Despite misgivings, Yvonne decided to leave Dedalus' arrival as a surprise and Dante's brother, himself, could explain his neglect.
"Would you like some cake?" she asked as Dante finished his second helping of stew.
"Yes," he replied and contemplated her as she dusted the cake with sugar and cut it.
The hita and he ate two pieces each. The storm moved into full force outside, swooshing and whining around the house. The fence had disappeared into the white of a blizzard.
"The weather channel said the storm should last all afternoon, blowing out tonight. Shaman examined the signs and says late in the night," said Dante.
"Why don't you and Shaman go and sit by the fire while I clean up and marinate the rabbits," said Yvonne. "Then I'll put on some moccatine and we can talk or perhaps play cards until the storm blows itself out."
Her son gathered up his plate and utensils and stood up. "If William didn't need me in the barn, I sometimes cleared the table..." His voice trailed away. He stared down at the plate in his hand and bit his lower lip. Tears wet the corners of his eyes. "Damn. All this human stuff."
Yvonne eased the dish from him. "That's alright, you go sit down or check the weather channel again. Perhaps Shaman would like to play a game I have for young visitors. Pepito the Duck Searches for the Golden Egg. It's all images."
"Yes. It would like that," said Dante, his sorrowful moment forgotten.
Her guests wandered out into the living room and Yvonne soon heard the beep and jangle of the game. After marinating the rabbits, she peeked around the corner to find the hita sitting with the flat tablet screen of the computer in its lap, its snouts tapping the console graphics that made Pepito jump up and down, run and fly. The screen screeched with the duck's silly hoot and the hita blew back with a large snort. No translation needed, Shaman enjoyed itself.
Yvonne glanced around to find Dante in order to share her delight in the hita and found him sound asleep in the chair in front of the fire. Her thoughts crowded with the memory of her father and brothers after a day of hunting, drowsing stuffed full of food and drink, dogs at their feet like Max lay at her sons, while she played cribbage with Anna. The loneliness kept at bay threatened to overwhelm. Yvonne pulled an afghan off the back of the small love seat, tucked it around her son and stood back. The distraction failed, she filled with a stupid longing to have tucked him in when he was a child.
Dante's face jerked then smoothed into a strange blankness. His body stiffened and he moaned. The wind shrieked down the chimney and rumbled the stove. The hita froze. Dante started awake, staring at some unseen horror. Shaking, he hunched forward, his hand protecting his stump. Shaman walked over to kneel beside him and wound its trunk around and up his disabled arm.
"Are you alright?" asked Yvonne, kicking herself for her inane remark.
"I'm fine. Just a nightmare, too much rich food. That's all," said Dante, white as a sheet. "I don't like your fence."
"It came alive, didn't it?" said Yvonne with a knowing nod. "That's more than just a nightmare, sounds like a trauma dream to me. I should know, my work sometimes involves helping victims of torture, exiles who have lost everything."
"Oh Gaia, protect my soul. Keep him from murdering it." He shivered."It's nothing. Dreams mean nothing. They can't tell the future."
"No. But they speak of what troubles you. Telling another person helps the dream go away."
"Shaman's talking to me, right now. Spell casting to make the shades of the wicked and the dead leave. It understands," said Dante. His shivering calmed. "It has nightmares too. Kills the night's sleep when we both have one at the same time."
"Hita dream?"
"Yes," said Dante with a note of contempt. "Shaman saw his family murdered and skinned. Creates some doozeys." He rubbed his hand over his face and sighed.
Yvonne sighed too, at the horror and injustice of it all, then proceeded to create the only comfort she could, by going to the kitchen, spooning moccatine and water into the maker and turning it on. The familiar cosy smell comforted her, if no one else.
The storm blew itself out in the night, not the late afternoon predicted by the weather channel. Yvonne struggled into her black parka and like Old King Wenceslas created a deep path of footsteps to the snow bound gate. She began to clear it then Dante appeared at her side and took the shovel, leaving her to brush the walk. Their breath puffed ice clouds into the crystalline air as they worked.
After breakfast, the hita and her son left with Max and the gun. They had disappeared deep into the bush by the time three sleek, dark windowed cars hovered up outside the gate.
"Hell of a storm," puffed Dedalus as he stepped out of his car. Several of his household guards got out of the other two vehicles. All wore dark goatees, Russe fur hats, thick brown wool coats with deep fur trim and heavy boots.
"Did you have to bring your bodyguards?" asked Yvonne. "He's so skittish."
"There are highwaymen, occasionally, along the route. Not to mention assassins from my dear family's side and the rebel side," remarked Dedalus with a grim smile. "I don't have your fence or your wraiths, and I don't have the powers of my dear brother and it now seems, my dear half-brother. A prince's life like mine is not a happy one, Your Grace."
"Nor my princess's life, Your Highness," said Yvonne accepting and returning his brief hug and dry kiss to each cheek. "Come in and have moccatine. Dante is out hunting with the hita. Should be back by noon."
Dedalus turned to a guard. "Hide the cars back among those trees." The soldier nodded. Yvonne and her guest entered the gate, then the house.
Winter clothes removed, Dedalus sat at the table slurping his drink and munching on a fresh cookie. His guards stood behind, gratefully sipping their own mugs of the hot, rare moccatine. He took a deep sniff of the air.
"Doing some motherly baking, I see," smiled Dedalus.
"He's constantly hungry. And appreciates any human food."
"Has he said how he was freed from my mind web?" asked Dedalus.
"I assumed it malfunctioned."
"No. Trevor's source, Brother Francis, says Dante tried to commit suicide by shooting himself in the head and the old healer found it when she operated."
Yvonne groaned. The prince pulled a small package from his pocket, opened a draw string and eased out a web as gossamer as a hair net.
The front door slammed open. Dante appeared in a whirl of snow and cold, fur hood thrown back, rabbits and quillbirds in his hand, a grin only for his mother.
"A gift from Yevgeny. He never gives up hope or blackmail that I'll work for him again," said Dedalus, holding up the net. It sparkled black and evil.
Dante stared at it, then at Dedalus, the guards, then back at the web. His face drained white.
"Oh Gaia. I'm such a fool," he said.
"No, no. It's not what you think," cried Yvonne.
The door slammed, only his caked snow footprints remained on the mat.
"Quick, bring him back," shouted Dedalus to his guards. They rushed to their coats.
"No!" cried Yvonne as she tossed on her parka and boots. "He'll kill them. Let me go. He'll head for the hita and his pack."
She ran across the snow bitten yard and thrust open the door. The barn was empty. Only the packs forlorn in their corner. As she watched, they vanished into thin air. Yvonne dashed back out into a white eclipse, blowing and stinging, its wind engulfing the yard and the fields and the woods beyond her fence.
"Dante. Dante. Don't go," she screamed into the maelstrom. "We want to help you. No one's going to hurt you. Dante. Dante."
The wind dropped. The snow drifted into pure white heaps. Not a footstep marred its cold crystal beauty. The smoke from the chimney rose straight up into the blue glass winter sky. Max whined at the gate, the only evidence her son had existed. Dedalus rushed out of the house, his guards behind, and stood beside her.
"He's gone," she said dully. "With my gun and a hita who knows how to use it."
"Gaia save us all," said Dedalus.