“We don’t need to get much farther,” Tavi said. He tossed back one of the jars of oil to Kitai. “Hold that.”
The Marat caught the jar awkwardly, then scowled at Tavi as they both ran on. “What is this?”
“Hold it a minute,” Tavi said. “I have an idea.”
Orange eyes flickered on his right, and Tavi didn’t see the Keeper hurtling toward him until it was already halfway there. Kitai’s foot kicked at his own and sent him stumbling to the forest floor.
The spider hurtled over him, missing him by a hair. It landed on the wall, its legs clinging to the nearly vertical surface, then spun on all of its legs, whistling. Its mandibles clicked and snapped against its carapace.
Tavi watched as Kitai drew his stone knife and hurled it. The glassy blade entered the creature’s head, drawing a sudden fount of greenish glowing fluid, mixed in with something dark and acrid smelling. The Keeper hurled its body out again, but unguided it simply bucked in a high arch and landed on the ground, twitching and convulsing.
Kitai hauled Tavi to his feet and said, “I hope it is a good idea, Aleran.”
Tavi felt himself quivering with terror and nodded jerkily. “Yeah. Yeah, so do I.” He started running again, Kitai close behind him.
The sound of trickling water came to Tavi a moment later, and he lengthened his strides, leaping over another twisted root. Before him, the rock wall had parted in a long, narrow fissure. Water trickled out of it in a slow, steady stream, meltwater from the ambient heat of the croach. At the base of the fissure was a long, narrow pool, an area where the croach had not grown over the bare earth. The pool looked hideously dark, and Tavi could not see how deep it was.
“We cannot climb this, Aleran,” panted Kitai. Another shriek sounded from near at hand, and Kitai twisted in place, body crouching in tension.
“Shut up,” Tavi said. “Give me the oil.” He took the jar from Kitai’s hand, jerked the broad cork out of its mouth. He turned to the area behind himself and Kitai and stomped hard on the ground several times, breaking the surface of the wax and drawing out more of the sludgy, glowing fluid.
More outraged, chittering shrieks rose through the glowing forest.
“What are you doing?” hissed Kitai. “You show them where we are!”
“Yes,” Tavi said. “Exactly.” He dumped the oil onto the croach, into the depression his boots had made, and took the firestone box into his hand. He opened the two separate chambers and took the firestones into his hand, kneeling beside the oil. He looked up to see the glowing orange dots of dozens of eyes closing in on him with that same weird, alien grace, knobby legs rippling across the surface of the croach.
“Whatever you are doing,” Kitai half-shouted, “hurry!”
Tavi waited until the eyes were close. And then he reached down to the oil and struck the firestones together.
They sparked brightly, glowing motes falling down, into the spilled oil. One of them found a spot where the oil was not deep enough to drown it, and in a rush, the whole of the small pool took sudden, brilliant flame. Fire leapt up from the depression in the croach, as high as Tavi’s chest.
The boy recoiled from the flames, grabbed Kitai by the Marat boy’s one-piece smock, and hauled him toward the pool. They tumbled into the cold water together, and Tavi pulled them both down.
The water was shallow, no more than thigh deep, and viciously chill. Tavi and Kitai gasped together at the cold. Then the Aleran boy stared at the Keepers.
The wax spiders had gone mad at the kindling of the fire. Those nearest to him had fallen back and were scuttling in circles, letting out high pitched shrieks. Others, farther back, had begun to bob up and down in confusion or fear, letting out high-pitched, interrogative chirrups.
None of them seemed to see either of the boys in the pool.
“It worked,” Tavi hissed. “Quick, here.” He reached into the pack and drew out both blankets. He shoved one at Kitai, then took his own and dipped it into the water. A moment later, he lifted it and draped it over his shoulders and head, shivering a bit with the cold. “Quick,” he said. “Cover up.”
Kitai stared at him. “What are you doing?” he hissed. “We should run while we have a chance.”
“Quick, cover up.”
“Why?”
“Their eyes,” Tavi said. “When they were close to us, the color of their eyes changed. They saw you and not me.”
“What do you mean?”
“They saw your heat,” Tavi stammered, lips shaking with the cold. “The Marat. Your people feel like they have a fever to me. You’re hotter. The spiders saw you. Then when I lit the fire—”
“You blinded them,” Kitai said, eyes widening.
“So soak your blanket in the water and cover up.”
“Clever,” Kitai said with admiration in his voice. With a quick motion, he jerked the hem of his smock up out of the water in an effort to avoid wetting any more of it. He tugged it over his hips, then bent to dip the blanket in the water and shroud himself as Tavi had done.
Tavi stared at the Marat in sudden shock.
Kitai blinked back at Tavi. “What is it?”
“I don’t believe it,” Tavi said. He felt his face flush and he turned away from Kitai, drawing the soaked blanket further about his face. “Oh, crows, I don’t believe it.”
“Don’t believe what, Aleran?” Kitai demanded in a whisper.
“You’re a girl.”
CHAPTER 34
Kitai frowned, pale brows drawing together. “I am what?”
“You’re a girl,” Tavi accused.
“No,” Kitai said in a fierce whisper. “I am a whelp. Until they bond, all Marat children are whelps. After I bond to a totem—then I will be a young female. Until then, I am a whelp like any other. Your ways are not our ways, Aleran.”
Tavi stared at her. “But you’re a girl.”
Kitai rolled her eyes. “Get over it, valleyboy.” She started to stand and move slowly up out of the water.
“Wait,” Tavi hissed. He lifted a hand to block her way.
“What?”
“Wait until they’ve gone. If you go out there now, they’ll see you.”
“But I am covered by the cold blanket.”
“And if you walk in front of that fire, you’ll be the only cold thing there,” Tavi said. “Stay here and be still and quiet. When the fire dies down, they’ll spread out to look for us again, and we’ll have our chance.”
Kitai frowned, but slowly settled back into the water. “Our chance to do what?”
Tavi swallowed. “To get inside. To that big tree.”
“Don’t be foolish,” Kitai said, though there was a reluctant weight to her words. “The Keepers are roused. No one has ever gone to the tree and come out again when the Keepers had been stirred from sleep. We would die.”
“You forget. I’m going to die anyway.” He frowned. “But it might be just as well. I don’t want to lead a girl into that kind of danger.”
The Marat girl scowled. “As if I am any less able to defeat you now than a few moments ago.”
Tavi shook his head. “No, no, it isn’t that.”
“Then what is it?”