“Your stomach says otherwise.” Khara licked her fingers and smiled. “You’re plant eaters, right?”
“Plants and bugs. Bark, in a pinch.”
“I’ll see what I can find.” Khara leapt to her feet.
“Please don’t bother.” Tobble crossed his arms over his chest. “I can’t accept food from you. You’re our captor.”
“Tobble,” I urged in a low voice, “eat while you can. We’ll need our strength for—”
“Not for another escape, you won’t.” Khara wagged a finger at us. “I’ll be right outside the entrance, so don’t get any ideas.”
We watched her leave. “I don’t have any ideas,” Tobble said. “Do you, Byx?”
I rubbed a sore spot on my nose. One of the serpent’s fangs had grazed it. “No,” I admitted, feeling weary and defeated. “Not any good ones, anyway.”
When she returned minutes later, Khara’s leather pouch was stuffed with grass and leaves. She opened her right hand to reveal a squirming ball of orange centipedes.
I’d eaten my share of bugs, but these looked far too much like miniature serpents for my taste. Still, Tobble’s eyes lit up.
“You need to eat, Tobble,” I said with an encouraging nod.
With a peevish sigh, he thrust out his paw. Khara dropped the slimy mass of centipedes into it. Tobble shoved the whole writhing bundle into his mouth and munched loudly.
Khara laughed. It was the first time I’d heard the sound, and it reminded me of a brief and wordless song. I was surprised at how pleasant I found it, in spite of our circumstances.
“I’d rather eat badger dung than centipedes,” she said.
“Have you ever tried one?” Tobble asked, his mouth still full, manners momentarily forgotten.
Khara nodded. “Awful. They’re dull as dirt.”
“Not as dull as wobbyk meat,” I added. Instantly I regretted my words when I saw Tobble’s expression.
“It’s rather hard to enjoy a meal,” he said, “when your companions are discussing how you taste.”
On the cave floor next to Tobble, Khara piled the grass and leaves she’d collected. “So I’ve gone from captor to companion?”
Tobble didn’t answer. His mouth was already full of dorya leaves.
Khara sat cross-legged close to the fire. She stared at Tobble and me as if she were solving a puzzle. “You two make a strange pair indeed. What was it that brought you together?”
I resisted responding. Khara had no right to know anything about us. Still, I had many questions myself. If I answered hers, she might return the favor. And what I gleaned might aid me in the days ahead.
“I rescued Tobble from a sinking boat,” I said. “And he seems to think he must return the favor three times.”
“Wobbyk Code,” Tobble explained, green leaf juice dribbling down his chin.
“Ahh,” said Khara. “And how old are you, Tobble?”
“Forty-two.” Tobble wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m the baby of our family.”
“At forty-two?” Khara exclaimed. She narrowed her eyes. “Wait. How long do wobbyks live?”
“A very long time. I’m perhaps”—Tobble stopped to taste a fresh leaf—“perhaps eight in human years.”
“And you, Byx?” Khara asked.
“I’m eleven.”
“And dairnes live about as long as humans, as I understand it.”
“They could,” I said darkly, “if it weren’t for humans.”
Khara nodded. “Sadly, that is true.”
“How old are you?” Tobble asked.
“Fourteen. Old enough to marry, and then some.” Khara made a sour face. “Or so they tell me.”
“I answered your questions,” I said. “Now you must answer mine.”
Khara half smiled, half nodded. “Fine.”
“Why are you a poacher? Why kill for money?”
“A girl needs to survive. Or a boy. Or in my case, a little of both. As it happens, I don’t have many options these days.” Khara stared past me. “I used to,” she added with a shrug. “In any case, I’ve always had a gift for tracking.”
Tobble licked his palm. “It’s wrong to kill living things.”
“Tell that to the centipedes in your belly,” Khara said, rolling her eyes.
“They’re not . . .” Tobble hesitated. “It’s not the same with bugs.”
“I suspect the bugs would beg to differ.”
Tobble opened his mouth to respond, but instead decided to stuff a wad of grass into it.
“How long did you work for them?” I asked. “Those poachers?”
“A few months, mostly as a guide. Before that, I worked for another group of them. And before that, another. I take work where I can, when I can. I rather like to eat.”
“Won’t they be mad that you ran off?” asked Tobble.
“For a bit, no doubt. That’s why I’m lying low, keeping to the back trails.” Khara waved a hand. “Although, truth be told, that crew of simpletons couldn’t find me without me there to guide them.”
“Two more questions,” I said.
Khara kicked at an ember. It sent up a few halfhearted sparks. “Have at it.”
“Your sword. It changed while you were fighting the serpents.”
“Yes,” Khara said with a sly smile. “That is a story for another day.”
“Answer me this, at least,” I said. “Where are you taking us?”
Khara pursed her lips. She seemed to be debating whether or not to answer me. “I suppose,” she said, “you have a right to know. Whether you like it or not, I’ll tell you the truth.”
“And whether you like it or not,” I said, “I’ll know if you are lying.”
“Ah, yes. I’ve heard those stories. Is it true what they say? That dairnes don’t lie?” Khara asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
“We don’t. It’s not in our nature.”
“Does that mean you can tell when I’m lying?” Tobble asked a bit nervously.
I merely smiled.
Tobble gulped. “Oh my. How can you know a lie for sure?”
I had to think for a moment. “I haven’t had a lot of practice. Adult dairnes don’t lie to each other. Pups try sometimes, until they realize there’s no point. Once, my brother Jax—”
I stopped myself midsentence. Just saying the name out loud made me reel. I didn’t want to talk about my family.
I didn’t want to venture anywhere near that icy black chasm of pain.
“But what does it feel like, hearing a lie?” Tobble pressed, too busy eating, apparently, to notice my discomfort.
Khara was watching me closely, clearly intrigued.
I took a steadying breath and forced an answer. “It feels like . . . Have you ever heard a mockingbird mimic a seajay, or maybe a Dawson’s hawk? It’s an almost perfect imitation, but not quite. There’s something missing, and you hear the wrongness of it. You feel it in your belly.” I looked right at Khara. “The false note you sounded when you tried to make the dairne warning call? That’s what it’s like when I hear a lie.”