The Mother's Wheel by Robin Kirk

Author:Robin Kirk [Robin Kirk]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Robin Kirk
Published: 2022-05-02T00:00:00+00:00

18

Hodgepodge

My sense of hope is short-lived. Two days’ climb from Puerta, the kettle spots a thick plume of smoke. We don’t stop when the sun rises, pushing ourselves to reach the city.

It’s too late. We find a ruin of charred pacay trunks and shattered pergama disks. The living plants that were the city’s floors, walls, and ceilings are smoking heaps of ash. From some of the burnt trees, a white sap seeps. The layers of the city stack on each other as if the Mother’s great hand slammed down from the sky to smash them flat.

Qada and the kettle circle to the top of the cliff, then gradually glide down through the mix of mist and smoke, searching for signs of life. They find nothing. Where the fires have cooled, we pick through to see if anyone can be rescued. Thoth alone takes the areas still hot to the touch.

We find familiar things: a chair made entirely of woven trumpet vine, a little flute, a dozen carved wooden cups still neatly stacked and only slightly charred.

At one pile, Desper sits and quietly mumbles. She’s found the remains of the mapamundi maker, Stellaria Arc. The Arc’s singed orange beak is the only thing left.

I remember the Queen’s valley from the mapamundi, tinted scarlet. It looked like a welcoming cushion of lilyfire. Now, there’s nothing left except the stone the Arc used for the Weave’s majestic Centrum. Someone’s scrawled on it: Death to all drafts, perversions of the Mother’s will.

There’s no sign at all of the farm girl, Flore.

“This wasn’t the work of Furies,” Desper says. Printed on a sweep of ash are dozens of boot prints with thunderbolt patterns: Rek’s Blazes. She must have sent some of her sons to follow us.

Does that mean she failed to take the Weave? Footprints only tell us that the Blazes were here, not why.

Qada reports that the crops grown on Puerta’s upper levels are burned or hacked to the ground. The animals that grazed on the high grasses are slaughtered. There’s no sign of the farmers or drafts who followed me from Dolor.

My decision to have them stay wasn’t just a mistake. It was their death sentence.

“The kettle feeds on the cattle now,” Qada reports, “because the Blazes did not even take the meat. It was killing they were after, not food.”

The mist of the abyss seems colder to me than before. I look over the bedraggled crew that followed us into The Deep and out again. They’re hardy and loyal, but even I know they may not survive much longer. At the fire that night, Desper almost raves with grief. I’ve told her how Rek betrayed the Captains and sought to replace Kesh.

“We need to find this Kesh,” she vows. “Perhaps there can be a trade. Will she support us against Zong? Against Rek and this Master? We could grab that warrior Fir, trade him back to the Captains in exchange for their support.”

I take a breath before answering. “Fir and his brothers left Dolor because they wanted to be free.

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