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Copyright © 2004, S. Y. Affolee 13 Claw Prudence gritted her teeth. Ficket had been wailing ever since they had left that strange abandoned town in the middle of the Dustlands. The weather had remained clear and there was no sign that anything was following them the past two days, but that didn’t mean anything. If the Others wanted to remain invisible, then they could very well do so. But Ficket did have a point in his annoyingly grating way. With the deaths of two of Their agents, they were bound to be pursued harder than ever before and even if they managed their way back to civilization again, the news of their deeds was sure to have spread out through the Authority’s all reaching network. Surely they were already branded demons into the psyche of the regular population—or would be soon if they made it back. “We’ll worry about that when we do get back,” Altner replied for the umpteenth time. It didn’t seem like he was tired of reassuring Ficket. Perhaps the wilderness guide was hoping that his somewhat soothing placations might shut up the round man at some point. “Perhaps once we’re beyond a certain point, they’ll think we won’t return and just go back and forget about us.” “I doubt the Authority forgets anyone,” grumbled the round man. Prudence tucked her felt hat lower to cover the view to her eyes. If it was any indication from the previous days, Ficket and Altner would just keep up that same conversation over and over again until they had to make camp. She might as well take a small nap in the saddle while they were at it. Her former mentor, Axel Redding, would have chewed off her ear by now with a blistering lecture about how stupid she and Dash were acting, she thought drowsily. No trouver with an ounce of sense in their heads would go off wandering the Dustlands to find treasure. And it was doubly stupid that now they had caught the attention of the Others and were—to be bluntly put—being hunted down. After the death of the bewitched Copper Run sheriff, Prudence wasn’t actually surprised that there had been no further attacks the last two days. If these treasure hunting travelers could dispatch two, not just one mind you, agents sent by the Authority, then something was definitely up. The travelers, or at least some of them, weren’t your average crazy gold seekers. She remembered the last day that she had been as Redding’s student, before she had become a colleague, a peer. Since Dash was older, he had already started acquiring jobs and she saw him rarely, perhaps a few times a month. The last day was the day before she had gotten a request from one of the neighboring farmers for a simple well construction job. It was actually more like dowsing instead of construction, but one had to be careful with semantics if there were any Others to overhear. At any rate, the last day had been raining and she and her mentor had stayed indoors working on various chores. She remembered that her mentor had asked about her brother and she had replied that he had recently started a business in Division Junction as the proprietor of an inn. Redding had nodded, then abruptly changed subjects. “Have I told you how my mentor, Jasper Eddings, died?” “He died out east, didn’t he?” she had said. “You never told me how he died.” “Eddings was a bit of a bastard at interpersonal relationships,” her mentor had spat, “but you couldn’t deny that he knew absolutely what he was doing. From what I’ve gathered, he grew up in the east in a big city to a very prominent family. He was also a hereditary trouver so he had the advantage of getting training since birth. He was only the third son, though, so he tried to seek out his fortune elsewhere.” “So he moved here?” Her mentor had nodded. “Yes. He moved out west when it was just being settled. For a couple of years, he worked as a gold prospector until he had amassed enough of a fortune to build his own ranch. Then he settled down with a local girl and began training some trouvers of his own, including me. He was all right toward most people although he often drove me and his other pupils a bit batty with his abrasive personality.” “You looked up to him though.” “Heck yeah. He was one of the best trouvers I had ever met. At any rate, it seemed as if he was going to stay at his ranch the rest of his life as a trainer and mentor. It was only after me, after three more pupils had been trained in fact, that his wife suddenly died of a lung disease. I think he snapped then.” “Snapped?” “His belief was that the Others had poisoned his wife even though the doctor who examined her body had seen no such thing. He then decided then and there that it was his duty to bring the Others to justice.” “But the Others think that they themselves are justice!” “Yes, a big problem isn’t it? So Eddings had no choice but to become an outlaw.” “But didn’t you or any of his other pupils try to prevent him from going after his delusions?” “We tried,” her mentor had admitted, “but he couldn’t be swayed. He left for the east for what he called, the Authority of the Authorities. He completely disappeared for about eight months until I heard about his death from a passing trouver who knew that I was one of his pupils.” “So he did die out east.” “He died, literally torn to shreds. Do you know what that means?” She had shaken her head. “He was killed by an Authority itself. They can change, you know, to suit their own purposes. It isn’t written anywhere but it is passed by word of mouth to those who might have a chance against one. Mainly trouvers and our like. They can change into the Claw. No one knows what it looks like because no one has survived, at least of that I know of, with an encounter with the Claw. The result is a shredded body—just as if you had torn up bits of paper and left them in a pile.” A yelp drew her from her memories. Dash had been leading and he had abruptly halted his stallion, Biter, which caused the other horses to automatically stop. Prudence looked up to where Dash was gesturing. Instead of the usual horizon, there were a couple of bushes then a thin, darker line where the earth was gashed open. It was the first in a series of canyons that had been indicated on Ficket’s map to Salamander Hill. Dash gave a yell and spurred Biter into a full gallop. Prudence followed suit with one hand on Star Chaser’s reins and another on her felt hat trying to leave behind her mentor’s long ago warnings with the wind whipping in her face.  |