Free Priests of Ferris by Maurice Gee Page B

washed her hands. ‘Now,’ she said, coming back, ‘you must talk to her, Susan. They know you are human, that is all. They don’t like humans.’
    Susan looked at the wounded bear. Even lying down the creature came up to her shoulder. She said, ‘I am Susan Ferris,’ but the Varg watched her with its eyes unblinking and showed no sign of understanding.
    ‘Speak in pictures,’ Dawn said.
    ‘And you’d better be quick,’ Nick said. ‘I think they’re going to eat us.’ The Varg behind him was making a low continuous hungry grumble.
    Susan wondered where to start. She thought the best thing to do was show she was an enemy of the priests, so she imagined one, dressed in white, holding dogs on a leash. She meant to put herself in the picture, running away, but had no time. The wounded Varg gave a roar of anger and rose to her feet. Those behind towered on their hind legs, with claws extended and lips drawn back from their teeth. Dawn ran in front of them, holding up her arms. Susan had an impression of images flashing from the Woodlander’s mind, but the Varg towered higher. ‘I can’t stop them. Show them Jimmy Jaspers,’ Dawn cried.
    Susan did not know what picture to think of. The four great beasts seemed to blot out the sky. ‘Jimmy,’ she cried; and at once a picture came – Jimmy standing by the bridge, with his axe in his hands, taunting Odo Cling, daring him to cross. And a second picture fitted in beside it: Jimmy saying goodbye, accepting the feather. ‘Keep it, Jimmy. Wear it for me.’ ‘I will. I will, Susie.’ Nick was there too, and Brand and Breeze, standing on the plateau in the midday sun. She concentrated on keeping the picture clear, then added to it. She saw the old man placing the feather carefully round his neck, and her affection for him, her grief at losing him, made tears trickle on her cheeks.
    ‘Susan,’ Dawn’s voice said, ‘open your eyes. You’re safe now.’
    She opened them and blinked the tears away. The Varg had dropped back on all fours and were looking at her in a thoughtful way, although a rumble of uncertainty came from one. She turned to the leader and found she had sunk to the ground. Dawn slipped by and looked at the wound. It was bleeding again. She busied herself, squeezing more juice in. ‘Now,’ she said, ‘start again, Susan. Go very slowly. And be careful.’
    So Susan told her story. Soon it seemed natural to speak in pictures not words. She slipped them into her mind like slides into a viewer. And slowly she told their adventures. She showed the struggle against the Halfmen – and how Jimmy Jaspers had saved them twice. She placed the Halves on the Motherstone. Otis Claw died. And she said goodbye to Jimmy. The bears ‘listened’, nodding now and then. They gave an impression of sagaciousness.
    Then Susan told about her return to O. Carefully she showed priests hunting with their dogs, and though the bears rumbled they made no move. She showed their flight, and their rescue by Seeker. Then she brought them to Shady Home. She did not think the bears would understand writing, but she imagined Jimmy writing his letter while the great blue bear lay at the door. She showed the opening of the box, and herself reading, and then the journey south, the flight with the Birdfolk. The bears stirred at the image, and Dawn made pictures, showing it was true.
    It was dark when they finished. Only the blunt crest of Mount Nicholas stood in the light. Susan was exhausted. She sat down in front of the wounded Varg and rested her head in her arms. Then she found an image slowly forming in her mind. It was a picture of herself and Jimmy. She wondered where it came from, she had not thought of it. They stood facing each other in a place she could not recognize. There was ice all around, shining blue. The picture grew sharper and made her head ache.
    ‘Answer,’ Dawn whispered.
    ‘What?’
    ‘She wants to know why you want Jimmy Jaspers.’
    ‘To destroy the