Shadows Cast by Stars Read Online Free Page B

watchful eye of the waning moon, as something pricks at my temples. We are crossing the boundary.
    In the old times, sailors used to tell tales of sirens. My mother told me about them, the women who sang songs to lure men to their deaths. Perhaps the boundary is part of that, a siren of sorts; for if I was on my own, I’m not sure I’d be able to leave. Spirit is thick here, calling to me, blinding my eyes, whispering words that my mother once used: My gentle girl. My starshine child. Stay with me. Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone. Don’t leave me behind .
    When Madda starts the engines again, I almost weep. I don’t want to go. I want to stay here and listen to my mother’s voice, even though part of me knows it’s notreally her. I’m only hearing what I want to hear. It’s the boundary , I think. It’s lonely. I would be too, if I were out here all by myself, waiting, watching people pass by, never to stay.
    My father takes the helm as Madda sits beside me, watching me with night-dark eyes. Paul snores, his head leaning against my shoulder.
    “You felt it, did you?” Madda whispers.
    I nod.
    “Ah. I should have known.” She looks back toward the boundary. A glimmer of phosphorescence marks our wake. “Non-Others can float right up to it and never know it exists, you know, unless they try to pass through. Then the boundary pushes them away, although to them it feels like the current, or the wind. Well, that’s the way it used to be. Not quite like that anymore—there are gaps now that didn’t used to be there. But our blood has always allowed us to pass through, and that permits us to bring non-Others across if we want to. But to feel it, to hear it, that’s something a little different.”
    “How?” I whisper.
    She looks as if she won’t answer but then changes her mind. “The boundary is made of spirit, and if you feel it, that means you’ve got a strong connection to the spirit world. Sometimes, the spirits of the ones we love, theones who have passed on, can come through here. But you didn’t need me to tell you that, did you?”
    She makes her way back to the wheel before I can answer, because I don’t need to. I see the pinch of her mouth, the way she’s holding her breath, the shadow of loss in her eyes.
    She’s heard the siren’s call too.
    Dawn rises like a gray dove. The air is cold and I haven’t slept at all.
    The Island looms before us. As the sun rises, its mountains ripple with golden light, with crimson, like a christening, a great homecoming. I wish it was both, but I know it’s neither.
    There are five treaty territories, established more than two hundred years ago, before the world fell apart. All of them are protected by the Band. The Pueblos far to the south still grow food by dry-till methods. The eastern Mohawk Nation is the oldest, and the most militant. They always have been, those Mohawk warriors. They were the ones who created the Band to begin with, and it was their idea to negotiate the treaty territories before it was too late.
    The third is the Shu, in the heart of what once was British Columbia. Far to the north is the fourth, theBix’iula. Some wonder if it still exists. No one has heard from the Bix’iula in years.
    And then, there’s the Island.
    My father moved to the Island when he was a child, after my grandmother left my grandfather. When my father went back to the farm in the Corridor, his brothers, my uncles, decided to stay on the Island. One day they disappeared. Just like that—gone, without any explanation from the Band. Once in a while, I think I can feel their totems following me, but when I look back, nothing’s there.
    I sometimes wonder if the Island took them, for it is an angry land. Once, ages ago, a great tsunami swept its lower half into the sea. The Island has never forgiven the ocean for this, and eventually she’ll seek retribution.
    Paul wakes as Madda guides the boat into an estuary. He’s always wanted to come here. “Told you