Talen stood in the house, facing his father who had just related the events at the Whitecliff fortress the night before. Da’s face was bruised from when the creature had knocked him aside. His throat was worse. It looked like he wore a blue-and-purple collar. The creature had throttled him and damaged his voice. When he finished his tale, none of the others spoke.
Talen didn’t care that the boy and the girl were standing right here with them. “The evidence, it appears, is overwhelming,” he said. “The Fir-Noy were not making this rot up.”
Earlier, he hadn’t known what to do. He and Nettle had not been able to sleep. They had discussed the situation from the moment the girl and boy had gone down into the cellar last night until the sun rose. They could give the girl and boy the benefit of the doubt, as it seemed Da, River, and Ke were willing to do, and assume huge risks. They could distract the two until Nettle could call the authorities to come collect them. Or they could kill them. But the questioners would want them alive. The laws of the hunt would demand punishment. Furthermore, if they were Sleth and there was a nest of them, then anyone who killed the boy and girl could expect the same retribution that was visited upon the village of Plum.
But to leave them alive in the house? And then the girl had confessed. All his talk of bold action, and he had been able to do nothing. Then the bailiff had shown up. But he hadn’t known it was the bailiff. He’d thought they were the Fir-Noy armsmen come back. He couldn’t tell them the boy and girl were the hatchlings. Those armsmen would automatically assume Talen’s family had been harboring them.
He should have never let her sit in his lap. Never let her kiss him. Lords, her tongue…
He kept expecting something to happen, to feel a shift of some kind. He could detect no change in himself, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t worked some kind of magic upon him with her touch. How could you kiss a Sleth child and not be changed?
It was obvious they had only two options-kill them or bring a hunt. And he preferred someone else face the ire of the nest. “It’s time to give them up,” said Talen.
“No,” said Da in his rough voice. “That will never happen.”
And yet there Da stood with that massive bruise on his face. Perhaps he was trying to tell Talen it was foolish to talk about such things in front of the boy and girl.
“River and Ke will be back soon enough. We’re going to keep them safe, Talen.”
Da wasn’t acting. He was serious. “With that woman’s beast looking for them?”
“We don’t know what that thing was,” said Da.
“Who cares what it was? It rescued her. That’s all we need to know.”
“That’s not all we need to know.”
It was obvious from the events at Whitecliff that there were powerful masters ruling this nest of Sleth. Had they gotten to Da? Had they themselves delivered the boy and girl here?
It was terrible to contemplate, but he wanted to know the situation. “You can tell me,” said Talen.
“No, I can’t. Not right now.”
“Have you been threatened by other members of this nest?”
“Son,” said Da. “Trust me.”
“Trust me,” Talen said. “If the masters of this nest have something hanging over us, I want to know. I want to help.”
“There are no masters,” said Da. “No threats. This is very simple. Sugar and Legs are innocent of any offense.”
“You’re kidding me?”
“No,” said Da.
Talen glanced over at Nettle for some help, but Nettle looked as concerned as he was. He turned back to his father. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I don’t think you’re in your right mind. If they’re innocent, then let the questioners absolve them.”
“Talen,” Da said more forcefully. “You don’t know of what you speak. So keep your mouth shut.”
Shut? When they had armsmen seeking their lives, a Sleth on the loose, and the children of that Sleth standing right there?
“Why don’t you enlighten me? I can clearly see the troubles these two have cost us. And it doesn’t require a lord’s councilor to multiply such troubles across all the rest of our people. You were a fool not to turn them in.”
The girl stood to the side of Da, cold calculation in her eyes. The boy was looking off into space, his head shaking oddly. It unnerved Talen. That right there was probably the result of some Sleth abomination.
Da’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll put a bung in that mouth of yours.”
“Somebody is going to die because of these two. And that’s not going to be me. I’d also like to avoid any torture that might be involved.”
“We’ll find them another place.” Da’s mouth was tight with anger.
Talen wondered if all this speaking hurt his throat, but someone needed to talk sense.
“Some wicked servant came to fetch their mother, and you want to harbor them?”
Da’s anger broke. He lifted up one side of the table and slammed it back down again. A leg gave way and the table slid over to one side. “I’m about to lose my temper!” If his voice had been normal, it would have come out as a bellow. But this voice, as if he were sick, was worse to hear.
Talen was going to say, don’t worry you’ve already done that, but Da’s eyes were as round as eggs. His face was red.
Years ago Da had let Ke and even River feel the open face of his hand. Ke had many a story; he also harbored much resentment that Talen didn’t receive the same good instruction. But Mother had made Da give it up before she died.
Da violently scratched the side of his head. He said, “I can forgive you your ignorance. But I won’t stand your disobedience. Do you truly think I’m such a drooling idiot that I would invite monsters into our house?”
“No,” said Talen, “but you might blind yourself so you couldn’t see the danger. All this time it’s been about Koramite oppression, jealous Mokaddians. Well, the facts are staring us in the face, but you won’t look at them.”
“You are the one that won’t look at them,” said Da. “What do you think the questioners will do with them? What do you think the Fir-Noy will demand?”
They’d demand the children be locked up as bait. They would torture them until they produced answers. Or they’d kill them.
“Only a coward lets the innocent be punished when it’s within his power to stop it,” said Da.
This was crazy. These weren’t two children accused of stealing apples from their neighbor’s orchard. “It’s not cowardice,” said Talen. “We’re talking about Sleth, Da. Sleth.”
“Sleth,” said Da. He sighed. “Fine. I suppose River’s right. It’s time. Although I do not believe you’re ready.” He turned to Nettle. “That would go as well for you. Of course, this should be your father’s office, shouldn’t it? But we can take care of that. You two are coming with me today, we’re-”
Talen didn’t understand half of what Da had just said. But it didn’t matter. “What about them?” he asked, pointing at the girl and boy.
“What about them? River and Ke will return soon enough. And it doesn’t appear you enjoy their company much.”
“You’re just going to leave them here unattended?” And then he understood what Da was doing. “You’re going to give them a chance to run, aren’t you? And that way if someone asks, you can truthfully say you have no idea where they are.”
Da shook his head. “Them running is the last thing I want, Talen. Because then they’ll surely be caught. You might want to think about that. Even if you haven’t a nit’s teaspoon of compassion, you’ll want to consider what will happen when the questioners begin their work. How long will it take before the boy is tortured into revealing who hid him for so long?”
That was easy to calculate. As were the consequences. Da had placed them all on a crumbling precipice and asked them to dance. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” said Talen.
“Nettle,” Da said, “tell me. Does your da tell you everything that goes on in his councils? You’re his son. If you were to ask him, would he tell you all his battle plans?”
“He tells me a lot.”
“Everything?”
“No.”
“Why is that? He trusts you, doesn’t he?”
“Well,” said Nettle, then he fell into silence and shrugged. “I guess he thinks I’ve got a butter jaw.”
Da laughed. “Hardly. It’s because some truths, if shared, would hurt those who do not deserve it. And it is at such times that you cannot simply pass the responsibility of the secrets you hold to someone else. You either carry the burden of the secret or release the whirlwind.”
“Secrets?” This did not sound right. This did not make him feel comfortable. What secrets did Da keep that concerned the girl and the boy?
“There’s more to this than the flimsy logic you’ve tried to fob me off with today, isn’t there?”
“There’s more to everything, son. Even when all the words have been spoken. But right now I have an appointment to meet the Clan Council. I was overtaken by a messenger earlier. I’ve been summoned back to Whitecliff to testify about what happened in the tower. I can understand your frustration, but I can’t trust you here alone. So you’re going with me. Now get the wagon hitched.”
Talen buckled the second loin strap about Iron Boy, their mule. Nettle was gathering food because, despite the current turmoils, Da said there were families needing supplies. And now, according to Da, was just as good a time to deliver what they needed as any other. Talen suspected it was only to cover something else, but he could not guess what that was. He didn’t understand his father.
Talen stroked Iron Boy’s neck. He almost wished he could trade places with the mule.
“I’m not oblivious to all the dangers about us,” said Da.
Talen turned. Da had walked up to the wagon. He secured the Hog under the seat. When he finished there, he came to stand before Talen, an unusually dark braid of godsweed in his hand. Despite Da’s protestations, River had wrapped his neck with a poultice. “I want you to wear this for protection.”
Godsweed was used to ward off things not wholly of this world. Its smoke was potent. But even having it upon you was supposed to have an effect. “Why are you giving me that? This isn’t about malevolent souls.”
“Oh, but it is,” said Da. “Did you not listen to what I said about the creature at the fortress? It was full of the dead. Now, hold out your arm.”
Talen pulled back the sleeve of his tunic and let Da tie the braid about his upper arm. The braid was thicker than most, woven in an odd pattern. But he’d never seen Da or River braid it.
“Where did you get this?”
Da said nothing. When he finished tying the braid, he pulled the sleeve of Talen’s tunic back down over it, nodded, then reached out, cupped the back of Talen’s neck with his large hand, and looked deep into his eyes. “Courage, son.”
This was Da’s habit since Talen was a boy. He’d look him in the eyes and make him focus on a word.
Talen felt stupid. Annoyed. He wasn’t a little boy anymore. He tried to shrug out of his father’s grasp, but Da’s grip was even stronger than Ke’s. Da waited for Talen’s response.
“Courage,” said Talen.
Da smiled. “See, you feel better already.”
“All I felt was your hand, cold as the tomb.” Talen hated that little ritual, and he swore at that moment he would never subject his sons to anything like it.
Da nodded. “We’re almost done here. I just need a bit of barley.”
Nettle returned shortly with what looked like most of what had been hanging in the smoke shed, including the salmon Talen had caught just last week. Nettle placed it next to a basket of cabbages and another of carrots resting in the wagon bed. Then Da came out of the house rolling a medium-sized barrel of barley.
“Goh,” said Talen. “How many are we to visit?”
“Not enough,” said Da.
Every two weeks Da went to Whitecliff and delivered supplies to struggling families along the way. Most were widows whose Koramite husbands had died or been maimed in the battles with the Bone Faces. One of the families had lost both mother and father, and the oldest son had sold himself to one of the clans to pay their debts.
Talen didn’t know how Da knew who to visit. He supposed they discussed such things in the Koramite council Da attended. All the Koramites in the area were supposed to donate their surplus to help the affected families. But it seemed a large portion of what Talen delivered came from his family’s own larder and garden. This time was no different.
Da drove the wagon and made Talen and Nettle walk alongside to spare Iron Boy. They traveled in silence for a time. Then Da tied the reins to the wooden hook under the seat and began undoing the thin, black leather strips holding his beard braids and combing the the hair out with an old bone comb. Iron Boy plodded along. When Da began to retie the first braid, Talen figured he’d had enough time for his temper to die down. He looked up at his father on the wagon seat and said, “So have you got some godsweed for Nettle?”
“Not today,” said Da. He held the braid with one hand and brought up the leather tie. “That’s his father’s office.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that.”
“I’m glad you can count,” said Da.
“It never does any good to hold on to your anger,” said Talen.
“You’re absolutely right,” said Da.
Talen walked in silence for a few more yards waiting for more. When Da didn’t respond, he decided to take another tack. “So what are all these facts you were going to bestow on me?”
“What?” asked Da in mock amazement. “An idiot like myself attempt to explain anything to you? I wouldn’t presume.”
“Oh, come,” said Talen.
“You’ll get your facts,” said Da. “Both of you. Just a little patience is all you need.”
“We shall bind her first,” said the Mother. Hunger approached the woman with a weave the Mother had directed him to make, but the woman scrambled back, and before he could reach her, she rose and, with what only could have been multiplied might and speed, ran headlong at the wall of the chamber, crashing into a rock.
The woman fell to the floor.
“You careless fool,” the Mother said. She delivered a blow of pain that sent Hunger to his knees.
The Mother turned back to the woman. She bent to her and began singing the odd music of hers, pressing herself into the world of men. Soon the scent of her clean magic filled the room. But the woman did not move.
“She’s dead,” said Hunger.
“Quiet,” commanded the Mother.
He didn’t deserve the reproach. He hadn’t been careless. It was the woman, the wily woman. How could Hunger know she would try to break her head like a squash? He did not know how the woman could survive such a blow. But then she spoke.
“No,” she said.
“It is time,” said the Mother.
“Nightmare,” said the woman, “depart.” She was still unsteady from her injury and slurred her words.
“Your son,” said the Mother. “Where has he gone?”
“Dead,” she said.
“No,” said the Mother. “I can feel him through the weave. He is not dead.”
“He is dead,” said the woman. “My son is mingled with a stork.”
The Mother paused, agitated. “Do not try to deceive me.” Then she did something and the woman groaned. “Where is the one with the weave?”
“Why do you torment my dreams?” asked the woman.
“The weave.”
The woman was silent again. But again the Mother did something that pained the woman.
“With horse,” she said.
“Where did he go with the horse?”
“You can’t have him. You will not sacrifice him for his Fire.”
“I would never do such a thing,” said the Mother. “He is precious to me.”
The woman hesitated. “They’re looking for him.”
“I will protect him. Where is he?”
The woman paused, and the Mother asked again.
“To horse,” said the woman weakly.
It made no sense. The woman was babbling. She was not going to live. Not here in the dark, not with that injury.
“Who is horse?” asked the Mother, but the woman closed her eyes. The Mother tried to bring her back with pain, but the woman fell limp in her hands.
“She’s dead,” said Hunger.
“Her heart is still beating,” said the Mother. “But what’s this?” She sniffed. The Mother put a finger to the woman’s bloody head and licked the blood off. “Sickness.” She savored the blood. “And something else. She’d been eating something. But I’ve tasted worse. I can fix this one. She’s going to live and lead us to others.”
Hunger had wanted to watch the Mother as she attempted to heal the woman, but he’d caught a whiff of magic and she’d sent him out into the night to track it. It was odd how often he’d smelled the magic of late. Perhaps the woman was bringing the Sleth out of hiding, drawing the nest to her. Or perhaps he was simply maturing in his powers. One thing was for sure, he could smell a male in this magic.
Hunger thought of the two men who had attacked him in the tower only a few hours ago. He knew the Mokaddian. It was Argoth, a captain of the Shoka. Perhaps this was his stink.
He followed the scent for miles, up onto the plains, to a farmstead past all settled parts. He paused in the woods on the edge of a field.
A bat darted above him and flittered out over fields of ripe grain shining pale and blue in the moonlight. On the far side of the fields stood a simple cabin with light shining from its small windows.
Hunger took in a great breath of the scent. He knew he shouldn’t do that because it only enflamed his appetite. And the Mother had wanted this human live. But he couldn’t help himself.
He walked along the tree line toward it and noticed a number of new stumps. Somebody had been busy this year clearing the land. When Hunger finally approached the cabin, he could hear the soft sounds of a man humming over the thrum of the night insects. He circled the cabin until he found a window. The scent of magic was pouring from the cracks around the window frame. Hunger looked in.
But he did not see Argoth. A burly man stood naked in a large round tub set close to the hearth. He was washing himself. A pot of water steamed over the cheery fire. The man took a cake of soap and lathered his hairy chest. Hunger did not recognize him. He was not the Koramite that had attacked him in the tower. Yet he stank.
Hunger considered the Mother’s promise. It had raised his hopes at first, but the more he pondered it, the more it unraveled. What cattleman did his cattle favors? When did one spare a healthy animal from slaughter? You might keep a bull or cow a number of years; the slaughter might be delayed, but when they ceased to be productive, they, with all the rest, were harvested. It was that simple. The Mother thought he was stupid. And maybe he was. But he could see through her lie.
The Mother had forbidden him to eat the ones that stink. Why was that? They couldn’t be trusted to serve her. She was going to cull them. So why not order him to do it for her?
He knew why: she didn’t want him eating their secrets. Because if he knew their secrets, maybe he could challenge her. Surely they would know how to remake the collar. And if they knew that, they might hold other secrets far more powerful. Secrets strong enough to overpower the Mother.
Hunger walked up to the door. The man sang a few words then continued to hum his tune. Something about the tune pricked Hunger’s mind, and he paused, listening. The music filled him with longing as wide as the sky, but no thoughts. Nothing to hang the longing upon.
He felt a revulsion at the thought of eating this man. He realized he’d felt this revulsion before, but it had always been lost in the raging fire of his appetite. But the revulsion didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that what he was doing was abomination. What mattered was that he had an opportunity to stop the Mother. What mattered was that he could free his family.
The humming swelled.
He would eat this man and satisfy his appetite.
Hunger thrust open the door.
The man did not look at him in horror, only surprise that turned to intelligence. Then the man lunged out of his tub toward the window.
Hunger followed.
The man took two steps and dove at the window. He burst through the shutters.
He was quick and would have escaped, but Hunger was quicker and caught him by the leg just before it disappeared through the window. The man kicked like a horse, but Hunger dragged him back in.
The man did not cry out. He simply turned and delivered a blow to Hunger’s throat that would have killed a bull. But the Mother’s handiwork wasn’t so easily defeated. Instead of felling Hunger, all the man succeeded in doing was breaking his own hand. He drew it back, pain wracking his face.
The Mother didn’t know he was here. She was crooning to her children, deep in the caves, and watching over the Sleth woman. Nevertheless, he expected to fight her compulsion.
Then he realized she hadn’t said not to eat this one. No, she hadn’t said that.
The man used his good hand to pick up a chair. He hammered at Hunger’s grip. But Hunger did not let him go. Hunger would not bend to the Mother’s wishes like some idiot cow whose only thought was of grass. He was, underneath all this dirt, a man. And even though this Sleth didn’t realize it, he was going to help save Hunger’s family. He was going to be put to good use. And who knew: if Hunger learned the secrets and defeated the Mother completely, then this Sleth would be the means of saving every mother and daughter and son of the Nine Clans.
Hunger felt along the fiber of this Sleth’s being. Soon enough he found an edge. It took only a few moments and Hunger shucked his soul. He was sweet and beautiful and Hunger could not help but bolt great portions of him.
Then the Mother stirred and Hunger froze. He immediately released the man’s soul. The remnants flew to the wind as Hunger waited. He stood quietly for some time bracing himself for her ire. But the Mother didn’t search him. She didn’t walk into his mind. She was too busy. Much too busy.
The man was gone.
Hunger hated himself and yet delighted in the savor of the man. He only hoped he’d eaten enough.
He stepped to the table and fingered the comb. He knew the tune the man was humming. He played it in his mind, waiting for the memories to digest. Waiting for the secrets.
But Hunger did not receive secrets. All he felt was the growing of an unaccountable sorrow. And then the picture of a tall, plain woman with laughing eyes.
He should not have let the man go, but it was too late now. The rest of his secrets were gone. Hunger stood at the man’s table for a long time, handling the things there-a seashell brush, a polished mirror, and a length of green cloth-all woman things. He could not say why, but he threw all these in the fire. Then he watched them burn to ash.
I am a ruin, he thought. He picked up one of the red, dying coals and held it in his hand. But if he had to become a ruin, if he had to become ash, then so be it. He knew the location of another Sleth. He knew where he could find the Shoka’s hammer, where he could find Argoth.
Hunger arrived in the dark of the early morning and walked up to the door to Argoth’s house. He slid a tendril from one of his fingers between the back door and its frame and silently lifted the bar.
The dogs surprised him, but he quickly twisted their necks, gulping down their Fire and soul. Hunger stood in the kitchen with the dead dogs at his feet, but when nobody came to investigate, he proceeded to search the house. He found four rooms. There was nothing in them but beds filled with sleeping children and servants. He creaked down the hallway and found Argoth’s wife asleep. Argoth was not with her.
Hunger retreated to a dark corner of the room and waited for Argoth, watching his wife toss and turn and finally kick the bedcovers to the floor. But when he smelled the beginnings of the morning winds, Hunger exited as quietly as he had come.
He took the bodies of the dogs with him and waited in the tree line by a fat chestnut. He would catch Argoth when he returned.
The night turned to morning. Argoth’s daughters came out to hang clothes on a line to dry. The wife stood in the back doorway and whistled for the dogs that lay at his feet. Meanwhile, a group of servants walked out to the vineyard with baskets and cutting knives and began to pick grapes.
When he was a man, he would have salivated at the thought of the red table grapes, the skin colored with a blue dust, and all of it bursting with a tangy sweetness. But grapes held no appeal to him now. It was only a memory of a desire that ghosted by.
He supposed Argoth would be conducting a search for him. But could they track a man of dirt? He did not think so. Morning grew toward noon, and then the breeze brought him a whiff of magic. The scent was barely detectable, almost a lie, but it was there.
Hunger prepared himself, but the scent disappeared and did not return. It hadn’t come from the direction of Whitecliff. The breeze was blowing from a different direction.
What did this mean?
It meant Argoth had simply crossed the wind’s path and had moved on. Argoth wasn’t coming home.
Or maybe it wasn’t Argoth at all. Maybe it was someone else entirely.
That idea burned in his mind. Someone he might use to remake that collar. Someone different. Someone he would not have to fight the Mother’s compulsion to eat.
He had been stupid with the other man. He would not be stupid with this one.
Hunger jolted upright and ran in the direction of the breeze. He kept to the wood line, not because he feared attack but because he did not want to raise an alarm and scare off whomever it was.
For a few minutes he lost the scent. But he ran perpendicular to the general direction of the breeze, and then there the stink was again, more powerful than before.
He traced the scent, moving like a dark animal through the woods, avoiding clearings and meadows as best he could, and when he couldn’t, running with utmost speed through the grass.
The scent grew and grew. He realized it was taking him toward Whitecliff, but Hunger ran out of woods before he caught up to the source of the stink.
He stood in the tree line at the foot of a hill and looked over the acres of fields that lay between him and the walls of Whitecliff and the shinning sea beyond.
Leagues to his left rose the ridge of white cliffs for which the city was named. The forbidden cliffs, riddled with crumbling warrens and wondrous carvings wrought by creatures that had vanished long before the first settlers arrived. Below him ran the Soap Stone River. A toll bridge spanned it.
Hunger looked along the road to the bridge and then beyond. It was crowded with people. The Festival of Gifts was not too far away, and then the whole land would be celebrating the blessings of the Creators given this year. There would be games and dances. Sacrifices. And the Divine would grant boons to even the most humble petitioner.
A bearded man on a wagon rode out from behind the bridge house. Beside him walked two boys. Hunger recognized the man. It was the Koramite who had been with Argoth.
A mighty stink rolled toward him in great waves. It was more potent than anything Hunger had encountered so far. More potent than anything he’d experienced from the Mother. He must have incredible power, that Koramite.
But, no, it wasn’t the man.
Hunger could see it clearly now. Small fingers of brightness rose from the boy like steam rose from wet clothes in the winter. They were fingers of Fire, fingers of his life spilling out into the wide world.
It was the boy making the overpowering stink.
Hunger looked closer. Was this the young male the Mother spoke of? The band around the boy’s arm wasn’t a normal godsweed band. It was a weave, smoking with power. He wondered if that weave was the cause of this reckless waste.
He opened his mouth and took in a great breath of the stink. None of the Mother’s magic was in it, which meant this was not the male they sought. Another memory tumbled into him. The second boy, the Mokaddian, was Argoth’s son. Suddenly Hunger knew who the man was. Argoth had a Koramite brother-in-law. That’s who this man was; he was sure of it.
But why release Fire like this? Why waste it? Fire, spilled like this, would draw frights just as a dead carcass would draw crows. Frights were creatures not completely from the world of flesh. Most were small and very difficult to see because they only gained substance in this world as they fed. They were leeches, but not of blood. There were three parts to all living things. Frights fed on Fire. They did not have the power to separate a living thing like he did. But sometimes, if someone was mortally sick or wounded, their Fire might bleed out. And this gave the frights an opening into which they could burrow and feed.
Hunger did not know the full powers of such creatures, but it didn’t matter; he would deal with them. And he would be careful of the boy. Who knew, perhaps the boy was not being used to bait frights, but Hunger himself. To throw off a stink he could not resist. Perhaps these Sleth thought to trap him.
But what trap could hold him? He could see none here. He should take them, the Koramite and his son. He should chase them down now. And while the Mother had commanded him to bring the Koramite to her, she hadn’t said anything about the boy. Surely he knew some secrets.
Hunger identified the the line of pursuit that would cut them off, then stopped himself. The Koramite and his boy were Sleth; they would simply multiply themselves and run away, and then, when they were safely surrounded by the thousands in the city, they could cease their magic. The stink would die, and Hunger would lose them. They’d disappear, leaving Hunger exposed. The trap, if there was one, was in the city.
Hunger sat down where he was next to a tangle of red-flowered trumpet vine.
The Koramite lived on this side of the river. He and his burning son would surely return from the city before long. And Hunger would be there along an empty stretch of road to greet them.
Talen had never received so many hard glances in his life. He doubted they would have been allowed to cross the bridge had Da not been wearing the token of the Council-a sash that was sewn with the patterned cloth of all Nine Clans and draped over one shoulder.
Almost everyone they passed or overtook on this overcrowded road to Whitecliff looked at him like he himself had committed horrors. And the one man that hadn’t given him the eye had shouted and waved his goose stick, rushing his gaggle of geese off the road so quickly you would have thought Da, he, and Nettle were a pack of wolves just come out of the wood. It was obvious the events of Plum Village had only turned the ridiculous rantings of the Fir-Noy against Koramites into truth.
The road ran almost straight to the Farmer’s Gate in the outer wall of the city, taking them through fields that stood half harvested and on to the gaming fields.
Every fortnight two or three of the Clans would send their best to compete here. Their best horses, runners, archers, slingers, and swordsmen. Along with the competition there were jugglers and singers, storytellers and alewives. When the weaves had been full, the dreadmen would compete, sometimes against each other, sometimes against an animal. Only recently had Koramites been allowed to compete in the games. But Talen was sure the events of the last week would reverse that privilege.
Between the gaming fields and the city moat stood plots with timber houses on them. At one a woman sat outside her door delivering well-spaced blows to the bottom of a kicking boy she held across her lap. At another a girl with long black hair stood feeding old vegetables to a number of piglets. At yet another, two brown-and-white goats stood on the low-hanging branch of a tree chewing what leaves they could find. A third attempted to clamber up the woodpile next to the house to get to the grass growing on the sod roof, but she only succeeded in slipping off and bringing pieces of wood down with her.
Beyond the plots rose the outer wall of the city. Four men, tiny in the distance, worked on the red roof of one of the newer stone towers set in the wall.
The city of Whitecliff had three rings of defense: an outer wall, a fortress wall, then the fortress inner wall. The fortress walls were made of stone. But the city wall was made of a steep embankment and timber palisades, like the many walled villages. A few years ago the clans had begun to replace that outer wall with stone, but it was far from finished. More than half of the seventeen towers were still made of timber.
As they approached the Farmer’s Gate, a guard motioned Da to pull the wagon into a separate line from the Mokaddians.
At least a dozen guards stood on the rampart with strung bows. From their colors, he could see they were a mixture of Fir-Noy and Burund. Down at the base and off to the side of the gate, a guard held a dead rabbit up by its hind legs, baiting the two mastiffs chained to the wall. He told the handful of guards standing with him to watch, then he tossed the rabbit between the two dogs. The result was a violent scuffle, but in moments the smaller dog had most of the rabbit and gulped it down, leaving only a tuft of fur and one leg that had flown off into the weeds when they’d pulled it apart.
“See,” said the guard. “That’s the one to watch. And now I’ll take your coppers.”
“They’ve posted double the men,” said Nettle.
“It won’t do them any good,” said Da. “Not against that creature of grass and stone.”
Two guards motioned Da to come down off the wagon. One told Da and Talen to strip completely.
“Do you not see the token of the Council?” asked Da. “I’ve been summoned.”
“Then we’ll have to be double sure, won’t we?”
“They’re not going to strip,” said Nettle. “I vouch for these men.”
“You little piss,” the second man said and reached out to strike Nettle, but the first grabbed his arm and stopped him.
“That one is Captain Argoth’s.”
The second man wrested his arm from the other man’s grasp. “Well, well. The Koramite lover’s boy,” he said. “All alone out here while daddy is in the fortress. Where’s your wet nurse?” He pointed at Nettle’s belt. “I see they’re letting you dress up like a man, are they? Good for you.”
Nettle clenched his jaw, but he didn’t say anything.
So Talen spoke up. “He’s man enough to knock one of your armsmen about.”
“Quiet!” said Da.
The second guard licked his bottom lip. “Our orders,” the first guard said, “are to search every Koramite. Now strip.”
“And you,” the second said to Nettle. “You may move along. Wouldn’t want you to get a boo-boo.”
“Don’t listen to them,” said Nettle.
Da held up his hand. “Talen and I will satisfy the requirement.” Then he began to pull off his tunic.
Dozens of Mokaddians in the other line stood and watched. One wife stood with her arms folded and a scowl across her face as if this were his just desserts. Talen turned his back on her and gave her the bum. Soon the two of them were naked except for the poultice around Da’s neck, standing in the sun, their legs spread and arms held wide, while the guards and flies came to investigate.
When the guards found no Sleth-sign, they allowed Da and Talen to pull their clothes back on and bring the wagon round. But another guard stopped them there.
“It’s four coppers to enter,” he said. One of his ears looked to have been chewed off.
Da shook his head. “Every man who works on the wall has rights to enter.”
“Every clansman,” said the guard.
“No,” said Da, “every man.” He pointed at the Sea Gate in the distance. “I helped build that tower.”
The guard looked over the contents of the wagon. “Four coppers, and I want that small sack of barley.”
Da did not raise his voice in anger, instead he enunciated every word. “I am here at the Council’s request.”
The man put his hand to his sword. “There are many who think we should just beat you on principle. I’m doing you a favor.”
“You’re robbing me.”
The guard shrugged. “Everything has its price.”
Da clenched his jaw.
The guard flipped open the basket with the smoked meat. “Ah,” he said. “This looks good.” He pulled out a strip of salmon and took a bite. Then he grabbed another handful and tossed it to the other guards. “See,” the man said. “I’ve got to let you in, but I don’t have to let your wagon through.”
“I’ll pay you four coppers,” said Da.
“No,” said Talen.
“Be quiet,” said Da.
“Very good advice,” said the guard.
Da reached into his purse and withdrew the coins. “The Council’s going to hear about this.”
“Give them my regards.”
Da picked up the reins and flicked Iron Boy on.
Smoke from a multitude of chimneys trailed into the sky, the wind blowing it like a sooty smear toward the sea.
Talen hated the Fir-Noy. But he was beginning to hate some of the members of his own race. The smith and his wife. They had tainted all the rest of them. Brought down a load of grief. He was happy the smith died. He deserved it. His wickedness was treachery, a stab in everyone’s back. He thought about what Da was doing with the hatchlings. That was treachery too. Couldn’t Da see that?
The farther they traveled, the houses became taller and more closely placed. More and more were made of brick and stone. Yet, between roofs, Talen caught glimpses of the temple on its hill and the seven statues for the coming Festival of Gifts. At the end of the festival, the community would pull down the statue for Regret, tie it to a boat, and send it out to sea. And while it burned upon the water, thousands would sing the hymn of defiance along the shorelines. This same ritual would be repeated by the other clans in their cities, but none would match the festival held here in Whitecliff.
Of course, this year it would not be the same. Usually, the reigning Divine would bestow gifts during the festival, including healings for man and beast. The festival was one of the regular times for people to offer the days of their life up for the good of all by letting the Divine draw quantities of their Fire. It was also during the festival that common men were raised to the ranks of the dreadmen. But none of that would happen this year.
Talen took his eyes from the temple and looked up the road. They were almost upon the lodgers field. Not all of the merchants could afford to raise a booth or tent in the central square. Those slots went to many of the permanent families who held homes in the city itself. But there were three other spots in the city where merchants paid to set up their business. This was the largest of those, a ten-acre field filled with tents of all colors-blue-and-white trimmed with yellow, scarlet-and-black, green-and-blue-each with pennants above them declaring who they were and what they sold.
“Look,” Nettle said and pointed. “The Kish.”
Talen looked and saw the black-and-white tent of the Kish bowmaster. He was surprised that merchant was here. In the last four years of Bone Face raids, many merchants had become wary of sending ships to the New Lands. And now with the Sleth, it was a wonder those who did come would stay. Kish bows were the finest made. They were small and powerful, made of wood, sinew, and bone. He could have the finest bow for sale along with a few dozen bundles of arrows; all he had to do was turn those hatchlings in.
Talen watched a merchant’s guard chase two boys away from a wagon, and then, with a jolt of the wagon, the road turned from a humped dirt affair with weeds growing in the middle to a flat cobblestone street.
What a fine arrangement for the rich to be able to step out of their houses in the middle of a rain and not muddy their boots.
Up ahead, people thronged the way. In front of them a man led an ass laden with bundles of dried hemp. To the side a young woman wearing a yellow hat pointed to a clay prayer disk laying on a holy man’s table. Each disk was engraved with some type of boon-the holy man would write your name on the disk in ink, then you could hang it on the wooden statue in front of the temple and let the fires carry your request to the ears of the Creators.
A young boy carrying a yoke of water across his shoulders cut in front of the wagon, followed by a girl in a pale blue dress selling candles that hung from a pole fitted with a double cross.
Da halted Iron Boy. When the two had passed, he flicked the reins again. A few minutes later, Da turned off the busy street, following the lane that led to Master Farkin’s. Farkin’s house stood three stories high and had half a dozen smoking chimneys. Talen wondered how it would be to have a hearth in almost every room. A lot of work or money in firewood, that’s what it would be. Perhaps that woodsman was on his way here.
A servant stood outside the door. Da went inside to see what price he could get for the pelts they had brought.
While Talen waited on the back of the wagon, two carriages rolled by, their curtains drawn. When Da came back out, he had Talen and Nettle help him carry the pelts down an alley into a yard in the back of the house.
Master Farkin was, according to Da, one of the few merchants who bargained a fair price with every man, regardless of clan.
While they were making the exchange, Master Farkin said, “Have you heard the news about the Envoy?”
“Mokad has sent an Envoy?”
“Not only an Envoy, but a Skir Master. The message just came today. We’re saved.”
“Is he here to stay?” asked Da.
“Nobody knows. There was no word of his coming until the birds arrived today. But it bodes well. We can, at the very least, hope for a hunt.”
“Creators be blessed,” Da said, smooth as cream. But Talen knew he didn’t mean a word of that.
“And look at this one,” Master Farkin said of Talen. “I would suspect that the girls would find much to admire there.”
“If they do,” said Talen, “they have a funny way of showing it.”
“Oh?”
“They tend to run away,” said Nettle.
Master Farkin chuckled. He asked after Captain Argoth, told them he needed more mink, suggested they avoid the Dog Street tailors, then bid them goodbye.
Da asked Talen and Nettle to join him up on the seat. When they’d pulled out into the road, Da said, “Kindness, boys. It’s irresistible. Don’t you think?”
“Some people are immune to it,” said Nettle.
“I don’t know,” said Da. “Sometimes kindness can even renew the hate-salted field of a man’s heart.”
“But people won’t see kindness if they don’t trust you,” said Talen. He was thinking of the lies they’d told the bailiff. The small lie Da had just told Master Farkin. What if Master Farkin discovered Da’s treachery? And that’s what it was, legally. How much kindness would he show then?
Da ignored his comment and asked, “How does your arm feel?”
The question annoyed Talen. “It feels fine,” he said. Then he realized it felt more than fine. His whole body felt rested and fresh, like he’d just woken up from a long and lovely sleep.
“Good,” said Da. “A little more patience, son. And we’ll have our chat. You’re almost ready.”
“You talk as if you’re waiting for a loaf of dough to rise before you put it in the oven.”
“That’s not a bad analogy.”
What in the Six was he talking about? “I don’t know that I want to be a loaf of bread.”
“I don’t know that I want to wait for my father,” said Nettle. “I’d like to get it straight from you, Uncle.”
“We’ll see,” said Da. “But Master Farkin’s news has changed things a bit. I don’t want you to wait for me. You must not. Deliver the goods we have left and take a message back to River. Tell her the news of the Envoy. Then tell her to prepare the garden for a frost.”
“But we’re weeks away from a turn in the seasons.”
“You want to be trusted?” asked Da. “Then do this thing.”
The way Da said that made Talen think there was more to the message than he supposed. “I’ll take it.”
“Tell her not to delay,” said Da. They threaded their way through the street up to the fortress. At one point, Talen heard a woman singing to the sound of a lyre and found the sound was coming from an open window one level up on the other side of the street. He was at such an angle that he could see in the window. It wasn’t a woman at all, but a girl. A tall Mokaddian girl who watched him as she sang.
When they came to the intersection that ended the street they’d been traveling and started the one to the fortress, Da stopped the wagon. He reached under the seat and retrieved the Hog, then opened his purse and gave Talen a number of coins.
“Do not wait for me. They might keep me for an hour or seven. So get the supplies and make the visit to the widow Lees. Now tell me the list.”
Talen recited all the things they needed. When he finished, Da said, “Don’t pay the smith one grain more than fifteen measures for the maul.”
Talen didn’t know how they’d fare without one of them wearing the token of the Council. “Are you sure you don’t want us to wait?”
“You’ll be all right,” said Da. “You’ve got Nettle with you.” Then he handed Talen five more coppers. “Purchase some honey; we’ll let your sister eat her own poison.”
“I’m just thinking that it’s not safe for you to travel back through the wood at night,” said Talen.
“I’ll be fine,” said Da. “Finish your business and go directly home. Remember, not everyone here is like the guard at the gate.” Then he put the Hog over one shoulder and walked up the road to the fortress.
Talen took the reins. That was all fine for Da to say, him and his Hog and the Council’s sash about his chest. But Talen had nothing more than a whittling knife. Then Talen realized that maybe Da was trying to tell him that he trusted him. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more sure he was of Da’s intentions. Talen appreciated the thought, but Da could have chosen a better time to make his point.
Talen looked up at the sun. It was past noon. He would have to hurry to make it home before nightfall. And if he didn’t?
Well, he would. So he didn’t need the answer to that question.