Chapter 17 – The Other Side

Gentle singing drifted through the air. A single deep male voice. And the calm rocking of being afloat. Mas had an awful clogged feeling in his head. As if his skull was full of jelly. He couldn’t lift his head. Mas figured that he’d best wait and come round a bit, work out what kind of trouble he’d gotten himself into before he gave signs he was conscious. He could smell lemons faintly, and tobacco strongly on the nearly still air. Damn. That was why. The poison. He’d taken the poison. The singing stopped.

“Hello, son.”

“Where the hell am I?”

“There’s water in a flask down the side of you there. You’ll feel dehydrated.”

That was an understatement. He drank deeply and didn’t stop till he’d drained the whole lot. He dropped the empty flask back into the boat.

“Where are we?”

“In a boat, where we should be.”

“Why am I here?”

“Funny. I was going to ask you that.”

“What in the Dark do you mean?”

“You took the poison. I didn’t know if you would.”

Mas grunted.

“Aren’t you pleased you did now?”

“What?”

“You’re Teller Mas-Te now.”

“Why the hell does that matter? For anything?”

“Son, it’s everything! Don’t you understand?”

“No. Explain. Humor me. Tell me why it’s worth murdering half of the pups who try it. Tell me!”

“Murder is such a strong word, Teller. They choose their path.”

“Do they? Did I?”

“You just did.”

“Oh, don’t be a pedant. I meant before.”

“Your mother chose for you. She took you away.”

“Because I was too young to make that choice.”

“But those choices make us. They make us strong. Make the River-folk strong. That’s the problem these days. All the pups are weak. The tribe makes them weak. Cossets them. Coddles them. It disgusts me.”

“Were we such a disappointment to you, Father?”

“You were. Your mother wasn’t. She needed discipline less than most. You both did. But there was only you and then. I was never disappointed in you. I’ve never had a pup since that— I went to a lot of trouble to get you here, son.”

“Why did you leave?”

“You know. There was a war.”

“I meant why did you not come back?”

“Your mother made that clear.”

“She was protecting me. She didn’t understand why you should put my life in danger.”

“I was preparing you for life. Being a River-folk is danger in itself. Can you not understand that?”

“Of course I understand, but you don’t need to threaten pups with death to prepare them for life.”

“Our history tells us differently.”

The wind picked up. Teller Mas sat up in the boat, they were in a wide tunnel of the type that only occurred close to the Lake. They were going back to Lakeside? Why?

“Where did you go after the war?” Mas asked his father.

“I sailed. Here and there. Looking for a new crew. I tied up here and there. Found a few mates. Had a few pups. None of them though Teller, none of them—”

“Survived?”

“What?”

“Did you put all of them through—? Gods. You did. All of them. How many?”

A hollow moan lifted in the tunnel, as some kind demented musician played the pipe they were sailing in.

“I forget. Does it matter?”

Mas sat upright. His legs were crossed under him, in the pose he liked best for thinking, but he still gripped the boat, tightly, on either side.

“How did you find me?”

“It wasn’t hard,” his father said. “You have quite a reputation in Lakeside.” He chuckled.

Mas supposed a stranger hearing that would find it charming. A joyful sound even. The kind a jolly sailor might make.

“No, the harder part by far was getting your attention.”

Mas hissed. He was getting a splinter under one of his nails, “That’s enough.”

“Oh, but your friends were so… helpful. Pliant even!”

Mas stood slowly. He pulled the splinter out of his finger with his teeth and spat it overboard. Then in a voice that was nearly drowned out by the lapping of the waves, “Enough.”