If the people who raised fire horses and lived with dogs that harbored mittsual disease agents did not contract the illness, then that suggested a connection. After consulting with Hohsalle, Milalle devoted herself to researching that very subject.
Perhaps she’d been pushing herself a little too hard, though, for she felt like she was coming down with a cold. Her throat was raw and sore, prompting her to keep her water flask close at hand, and she was more tired than usual. However, the vegetation and lichens grew thicker and more plentiful here than where she’d investigated yesterday, and soon she was so absorbed in collecting samples that her fatigue was a distant memory.
Milalle had just crouched over a fallen log to peel off some lichen with a trowel when she heard a voice. Turning, she saw a young man of the Yusula Oma striding over.
He waved. “Sir Makokan,” he called. “Lord Hohsalle bids you to come.”
Makokan nodded. After telling the young man he would be right with him, he looked down at Milalle. “Milady?”
Still crouched on the ground, Milalle shook her head. “I want to stay a little longer. You go on ahead.”
Makokan frowned. “But—”
“I’ll be fine,” Milalle said with a laugh. “I’m not a child. On your way! You know how impatient Hohsalle gets. If you don’t go right away, you’ll get a scolding.”
There was no sign of anyone else in the marsh. Tiny insects danced in the air on flickering wings. Everything seemed calm and peaceful. Makokan nodded and, with a quick bow to Milalle, hurried after the young man.
As their figures receded into the forest, the stillness increased. Milalle’s trowel scraped loud against the bark. She lifted a clump of lichen off the log.
“Wha’ dat?” Yuna asked. She’d crouched beside Milalle as if mesmerized by what she was doing.
“This? It’s called mohhalu. Pretty, isn’t it?”
The bridge of Yuna’s nose wrinkled a little. “Pwetty. But it don’t shine.”
Milalle smiled. “You’re right. It doesn’t shine. But look here. These drops of water caught in it sort of sparkle, don’t they?”
Yuna peered inside the clump, her eyes bright with curiosity.
“Uh-huh! Sparkly.”
She reached out to touch a drop. When it ran down her finger, she laughed out loud. “Ooh, cold!”
Yuna jumped up. “Dats pwetty, but Yunacha like dis one betta.” She pointed to the basket that Milalle had told her not to touch.
Milalle stood and placed the freshly gathered mohhalu in a basket. “Why?”
Yuna grinned. “’Cuz it shines!”
Milalle knit her brow and stared at the ashimi that would be used in the new remedy for mittsual. It was a lush dark green, and it certainly didn’t shine.
“No, it doesn’t,” she replied quietly.
Yuna looked surprised. “Does too! Can’t you see?” She went over to the row of small baskets and pointed to one on the far left and then one in the middle. “Dis one an’ dis one, too. Dey shine. See? Pwetty, like dat one.”
Puzzled, Milalle approached the baskets. She’d put each species of lichen collected that morning into its own container, and although she’d sprinkled them with water occasionally to keep them fresh, none of them shone.
Yuna stared at the leftmost basket as if captivated by its beauty. Milalle looked at the other two Yuna had shown her and gasped.
Wait a minute. It can’t be…
The basket on the left contained takki while the one in the middle contained ikimi. Lime green takki hung down in hairlike tendrils from the branches of old trees. The verdant ikimi, on the other hand, grew along the marshy shoreline and was very rare and hard to find. Neither of them looked anything like the dark green ashimi. However, these three distinct species did have one thing in common: The secondary metabolites they produced contained a component with the same qualities. And it was this component that had proved so effective against the submicroscopic disease agents.
Milalle knew that some fungi glowed, and she’d seen a few bioluminescent mushrooms and algae.
But…
No matter how closely Milalle looked at them, she spotted no sign of phosphorescence. She’d never heard of any reports of them glowing, either. Lichens produced over a thousand types of secondary metabolites that could only be identified through laboratory analysis. It was impossible to identify them by sight. Milalle smiled and relaxed. This was surely a coincidence. The child was probably playing make-believe.
“They’re that pretty, are they?” Milalle asked.
Yuna looked up, beaming. She nodded vigorously and jumped to her feet. “Yunacha knows a place wif lots of pwetty ones like deeze.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “Uh-hunh! Dis way!”
Grabbing Milalle’s hand in her pudgy little one, Yuna set off at a run, pulling Milalle behind her. She moved with astonishing speed and agility. Far from picking the easy route, she plowed straight ahead, unfazed by any obstacles. Milalle followed, jumping over logs and weaving through the forested marshland where snow still dotted patches on the ground.
What am I doing?
At last, they stumbled out of the forest, and her jaw dropped in surprise. Before them lay an enormous swamp. The shore on which they were standing was sheltered from the wind by a dense growth of trees. Emerald-green lichens, dappled with sunlight filtering through the canopy, carpeted the fallen logs and rocks along the water’s edge. Waterweeds grew abundantly, dark and verdant. Great moss-covered trees and stones lined the shore as though hugging the marsh. Their vigor was so intense as to almost stifle Milalle.
On the other side of the marsh, a sunbathed grassy plain stretched as far as she could see. In the distance was a flock of sheep.
Ah…
Settlers must have cut down the trees on the other side to expand their pastureland and make it easier to reach the water. Now that the trees were gone, the shore was exposed to strong winds, and the rocks along that side of the marsh were a dull, dry brown. The mosses and lichens that grew there would be completely different from those on this side.
“Look! Deah.”
Yuna tugged on Milalle’s hand, pulling the woman from her thoughts, and led her to a shoal. She pointed into the water.
“See! Shiny ones! Lots ’n’ lots o’ dem.”
Milalle peered into the water and gasped. In the shallows grew the largest colony of ikimi she had ever seen.
“Incredible.”
She drew in a sharp breath. Something white gleamed beneath the vivid green at the bottom of the marsh.
Bones—white bones of some large animal lying on its side.
Milalle jumped to her feet and took a step back without thinking. Glancing down, she noticed white things beneath the lichens that covered the ground underfoot.
Her skin crawled.
“What’s wong?” Yuna asked. When Milalle didn’t answer, she pointed to the bones buried beneath the lichen. “You ’fwaid of weindeer bones?”
Milalle furrowed her brow as she stared. Among the bones in the water, she noticed a skull. It wasn’t a reindeer’s.
“They’re not reindeer bones,” she whispered. “They’re horse bones.”
Yuna’s eyes widened. “Weally? Hohse bones?”
“Yes. Horse.”
Milalle, who’d studied the skeletons of many creatures, recognized the skull at a glance.
Is this a tomb for horses?
She glanced around and noticed wilted flowers poking through the snow here and there. They weren’t a sort that would grow here naturally. Perhaps they’d been brought for the dead animals.
Milalle heard a noise behind her. Turning, she froze. Men stood between the trees, swords at their hips and spears in hand. They stared at her, their expressions livid.