Free Dreamsnake by Vonda D. McIntyre Page B

while alone, and then I’ll be grateful for your gift.”
    Snake stood and walked out of the tent. Her knees shook and her neck and
shoulders ached with tension. She sat down on the hard, gritty sand, wishing the
night were over.
    She looked up at the sky, a thin strip edged by the walls of the canyon. The
clouds seemed peculiarly thick and opaque tonight, for though the moon had not
yet risen high enough to see, some of its light should have been diffracted into
sky-glow. Suddenly she realized the clouds were not unusually thick but very
thin and mobile, too thin to spread light. They moved in a wind that blew only
high above the ground. As she watched, a bank of dark cloud parted, and Snake
quite clearly saw the sky, black and deep and shimmering with multicolored
points of light. Snake stared at them, hoping the clouds would not come together
again, wishing someone else were near to share the stars with her. Planets
circled some of those stars, and people lived on them, people who might have
helped Jesse if they had even known she existed. Snake wondered if their plan
had had any chance of success at all, or if Jesse had accepted it because on a
level deeper than shock and resignation her grip on life had been too strong to
let go.
    Inside the tent someone uncovered a clear bowl of lightcells. The blue
bioluminescence spilling through the entrance washed over the black sand.
    “Healer, Jesse wants you.” Merideth stood outlined in the glow, voice
stripped of music, tall and gaunt and haggard.
    Snake carried Mist inside. Merideth did not speak to her again. Even Alex
looked at her with a fleeting expression of uncertainty and fear. But Jesse
welcomed her with her blinded eyes. Merideth and Alex stood in front of her bed,
like a guard. Snake stopped. She did not doubt her decision, but the final
choice was still Jesse’s.
    “Come kiss me,” Jesse said. “Then leave us.”
    Merideth swung around. “You can’t ask us to go now!”
    “You have enough to forget.” Her voice trembled with weakness. Her hair clung
in tangles to her forehead and her cheeks, and what was left in her face was
endurance near exhaustion. Snake saw it and Alex saw it, but Merideth stood,
shoulders hunched, staring at the floor.
    Alex knelt and gently raised Jesse’s hand to his lips. He kissed her almost
reverently, on the fingers, on the cheek, on her lips. She laid her hand on his
shoulder and kept him a moment longer. He rose slowly, silent, looked at Snake,
and left the tent.
    “Merry, please say good-bye before you go.”
    Defeated, Merideth knelt beside her and brushed her hair back from her
bruised face, gathered her up and held her. She returned the embrace. Neither
offered consolation.
    Merideth left the tent, in a silence that drifted on longer than Snake meant
it to. When the footsteps faded to a whisper of sand against leather, Jesse
shuddered with a sound between a cry and a groan.
    “Healer?”
    “I’m here.” She put her palm under Jesse’s outstretched hand.
    “Do you think it would have worked?”
    “I don’t know,” Snake said, remembering when one of her teachers had returned
from the city, having met only closed gates and people who would not speak to
her. “I want to believe it would have.”
    Jesse’s lips were darkening to purple. Her lower lip had split. Snake dabbed
at the blood, but it was thin as water and she could not stop the flow.
    “You keep going,” Jesse whispered.
    “What?”
    “To the city. You still have a claim on them.”
    “Jesse, no—”
    “Yes. They live under a stone sky, afraid of everything outside. They can
help you, and they need your help. They’ll all go mad in a few more generations.
Tell them I lived and I was happy. Tell them I might not have died if they had
told the truth. They said everything outside killed, so I thought nothing did.”
    “I’ll carry your message.”
    “Don’t forget your own. Other people need … ” She ran