Changed By Fire (Book 3) (10 page)

A
mia led
them through a gap in the wagons, moving with a determined step. The muscles in her hand were tense as she gripped Tan’s, squeezing harder than necessary. Soft music drifted through the trees and disappeared into the night. There was a mournful quality to it, so different than the usual happy and festive sounds he associated with the Aeta.

A large fire crackled in the center of a clearing. The wagons weaved around trees, but near the center, the trees had long ago been felled, leaving a wide expanse of open ground. A ring of rocks piled in a circle created the open pit. A dozen spits rotated over the fire, making it seem like a massive celebration. People dressed in bright clothes and cuts of many different styles stood, sat, or danced around the fire.

But as Tan and Amia stepped into the clearing, unease settled over everything; the Aeta had sensed their arrival.

“If this doesn’t work, we may need to leave quickly.”

He frowned. “Why do you say that?”

She lowered her voice. “We have protected our secret for hundreds of years. No outsider has ever been allowed into the Gathering. Doing so is forbidden. And now I’ve brought you here.”

“Not even my mother?”

Amia’s eyes widened slightly. “Especially not your mother.”

A tall man stepped away from the fire and made his way toward them. He had closely shorn hair that set off his large silver hoop earrings. A long, hooked nose pointed toward them as he studied Amia first, then Tan. He tipped his head slightly. “Daughter,” he said in a whisper.

Amia took a deep breath and straightened her back. “Once I would have claimed that title.”

The man tilted his head. He smoothed one hand down the front of his maroon jacket and kept his eyes fixed on Amia. “You no longer serve as Daughter?”

She gathered herself up and thrust her chin forward. “I no longer have a family to serve.”

His eyes widened. “No family?”

Amia didn’t move.

The man tipped his head. Tan felt a shaping build. Did Amia perform the shaping… or did the man? After learning that some of the spirit shaping archivists were once Aeta, he no longer felt certain.

He considered readying a shaping, but earth did not respond well to him and air was fickle. He had little control of water—he’d not really tried much water shaping—which left only fire. With the blazing flames dancing nearby, he
could
try a fire shaping—especially since he seemed attuned to fire through his connection to the draasin—but fire was destructive and dangerous. The Aeta had already seen too much destruction from fire.

Tan forced himself to relax.

“You are welcomed here, of course, Daughter. May the fire grant the warmth of the Great Mother. But you should not have—” he looked over at Tan “—brought another to the Gathering. Such a thing is forbidden. You should already have learned that custom.”

Amia took a deep breath and nodded. “I know the rules, Brother, but he is
my
family.”

The man’s eyes narrowed slightly as he considered Tan. “It is unusual for a Daughter to choose from outside the People.”

“It is.”

“Did you have approval?”

Amia glanced at Tan. A warning of silence flowed through their bond. “The Mother consented.”

The man studied Tan for another moment and then nodded, a smile splitting his face. “Then come and find peace and warmth by the fire. Others have already arrived, and more should come shortly. The Gathering will commence soon.”

He led them to the fire and motioned to an open bench made of two sawn logs with a thick, rough-hewn board thrown over top. Amia took a seat and waited for Tan to follow. He hesitated. A few Aeta watched him, and he felt self-conscious. A wide man with a tattooed neck worked at the nearby spit. The roasting meat made Tan’s mouth water. A woman stood next to him fanning a long-handled blade overtop a metal grate. A nearby scent of bread mixed with a sweet smell.

As he sat, Tan leaned in to Amia. “This is it?”

“This is the Gathering.”

“Is it always so serious?”

“No, but the People are sensitive. Our ability with spirit grants us a different connection. I suspect word of the lisincend attack has reached all the families.”

“And the attack near the place of convergence? Would they have learned of that?”

Amia’s brow furrowed as she considered. “It is possible.”

The man who had greeted them made his way around the fire. He paused to speak to various people as he walked, leaning toward them as he did. Each time, Tan felt the soft pressure of a shaping.

A shaper. He was certain of it.

At times, the man glanced over. When he caught Tan watching, he smiled. It did not reach his eyes.

“What did he mean when he said you chose someone?” Tan asked.

She sat stiffly on the bench. A sense of anxiety washed through their shaped connection, but then she sighed and took his hand. “It’s a shame you know so little of the Aeta. I should have explained my people to you before now. Certainly before coming to the Gathering.” She nodded at the man, who had reached the far side of the fire circle. The flames had begun concealing him. “Mothers lead each family. It has been that way since the beginning of the People. And Daughters must be chosen to follow, though we are not always daughter to the Mother. By now, I should have returned to the People, but I didn’t—I couldn’t—because of you.”

Tan pulled her close, not caring about the looks they got from others around them. Amia didn’t need him to share how he felt about her. The connection they shared was deeper than words could convey. “I choose you, too,” he said softly. Amia smiled. “What would happen when the Mother could no longer serve?”

“She could have remained with the family. It happens sometimes. A Mother will become frail and unable to lead. The others will see to her comfort, a way of thanking her for years of serving the family.”

Tan felt as if there was something she held back from him. “But that’s not all.”

When she met his eyes, her deep blues reflected the firelight. “There are other ways for a Mother to step down. One is here, at the Gathering. A transition will take place, observed by all the People.”

Tan thought of the other Aeta caravan, the one Amia had left with to find healing. She must have known about the Gathering then. “Is that where they were bringing you?”

“It is where the caravan
should
have been coming. I do not know if the Mother feared the fact that I am blessed or if it was simply that the archivist was
her
family.”

“What happened was no fault of yours,” Tan reminded her.

“But it might have been partly my fault. Had I not shared how I was blessed, perhaps the Mother would not have feared I would replace her.”

Tan squeezed Amia’s hand. She trembled, a different shaking than when the sickness afflicting her mind had threatened to overwhelm her. “She committed to her path when she chose her brother over her people.”

Amia nodded. “And do I do something so different by choosing you over my people?”

“That’s what he meant by you choosing me?”

“Custom demands that I find another family. It was why the Mother of the other caravan was willing to take me on, even though a Daughter served.”

“What was she like? The Daughter.”

“Are you asking if she was angry I was allowed to join the family?” Amia asked. “That is not the way of the People. Choosing oneself over the family does not happen.”

“But it did.”

Amia took a soft breath and let it out slowly. “It did.”

They sat in silence for a moment, nothing but the snapping of the flames and the soft music behind them as distraction. The man working the spit smiled at Amia and nodded toward the meat. She tipped her head in assent and he tore off a hunk of meat and brought it to her.

“We welcome you to the fire, Daughter.”

Amia smiled and took the meat. The woman handed her a hunk of crusty bread and a metal cup of water. They turned back to their stations, neither offering anything to Tan.

“Not very friendly, are they?” he whispered.

Amia tore off a piece of meat and handed it to him. “They are scared and frustrated,” she said. “You must be able to sense that.”

“What is it that frightens them, do you think?” Tan asked. “It can’t only be the attacks.”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Maybe the Brother shaped them.”

Amia shot him a look. “The Brother is a senser, as are most of the Aeta,” she said.

Tan peered through the fire, looking for any sign of him. The fire seemed to part, as if knowing what he wanted, splitting to give him a brief glimpse of the silver hoops in the Brother’s ears. The man caught Tan’s eyes from across the fire and his face clouded briefly.

“He shapes as he makes his way around the fire. I thought it was you at first, but it isn’t.”

Amia twisted, trying to see him but failing. “Maybe there is another. There would be at least one more blessed by the Great Mother among the People.”

“It was him.” Tan looked away from the fire and turned to Amia. “You already know the archivists were once Aeta, at least those who could shape. Why shouldn’t there be another?”

“We would know.
She
would know.”

“Who?” Tan asked.

Amia nodded toward an older lady with dark silver hair tied behind her head. Her skin was a deep bronze and heavily wrinkled, but the brightness in her eyes spoke of a vibrancy.

“Her. The First Mother. The Eldest.”

Tan watched the woman as she made her way around the fire. She moved with a sure step, greeting everyone with a quick smile. It took a moment for him to realize that she shaped everyone as she made her way through the throng of people. Her touch was subtle, even gentler than the archivist had managed when he shaped Tan.

Thinking of the archivist, he quickly focused on a shaping, wrapping his mind in air and water to protect himself from the Eldest’s shaping.

As he did, she straightened and watched him across the distance between them, lips pursed into a straight line. She
knew
what he had done.

She continued working through the people. Tan realized Amia still spoke. He turned back to her.

“She taught me the first lessons. I was barely five when I was saddled with the responsibility of my blessing, for it
is
responsibility. Told I would lead someday, perhaps that I could replace her in time.” Amia shook her head. “It was a heavy burden to place on a child, but she knew I could handle it. Or maybe she shaped me to ensure that I could.” A smile crossed Amia’s face. “She has such control. I have never managed to work with the same level of control as she manages.”

“She knows I’m here,” Tan said.

Amia nodded. “Of course she does. Likely she knew the moment we landed days ago. For us to find this place, she had to lead us.”

Tan watched the woman, not taking his eyes off her. She continued to move through the Aeta, touching some on the shoulder but merely whispering words to others. With each one, she released a soft shaping. Had he not been attuned to shaping from his time in Ethea and working around Roine, he might not have recognized what she did.

“She’s doing the same thing the Brother did,” he noted.

“The Brother serves under her. That is his role here. He coordinates the gathering.”

“And he shapes as she does.” Tan insisted quietly.

“He should not,” Amia said and frowned.

“Do you feel it?” Tan asked.

“I’ve never felt shaping the way you do. But I trust you.”

He turned back to the First Mother and watched her again. Even as she weaved through the people, she continued to watch him. Her expression hadn’t changed, continuing to make her appear warm and motherly, but every so often, the mask slipped and a hard edge shone through. Tan couldn’t help but think it was intentional.

The Brother finished his loop around the fire. He nodded at Tan and made his way over to the First Mother, pausing to lean toward her. A soft shaping built and, as far as Tan could tell, neither spoke.

“They’re speaking to each other,” he realized.

Amia twisted to see the First Mother. “She’s speaking to everyone. That’s how she welcomes people to the Gathering. It is done individually and then to the group as a whole.”

Speaking like this.

Tan had to lower the shaping protecting his mind as he pushed the thought toward Amia. He focused the thought, making a point of sending it as no more than a pinprick, his connection to her making communicating wordlessly easier. Speaking to her this way was different than speaking to the nymid or the draasin. Even speaking to Elle was different.

The First Mother turned sharply, as if startled.

She had heard.

The People do not speak like this
, Amia said.

Tan touched her arm and nodded toward the First Mother.

She came directly toward them, no longer pausing to speak to others as she worked her way around the fire. The light of the flames flickered off her eyes, making them dance. The Brother followed her, keeping a step behind.

When she approached, a wide smile crossed her face. She lowered her head and leaned toward Amia, touching fingers to Amia’s forehead. “Daughter,” she said aloud.

A shaping built as she spoke. Tan rewrapped his mind in his shaping of wind and water, aware now how he had to draw focus from the elementals. Holding it in place got easier the longer he held it. He didn’t want to risk a shaping coming over his mind without knowing what she might do.

Without asking, Tan extended the shaping through the connection with Amia to protect her as well. She could not shape air or water, leaving her vulnerable. As a spirit shaper, she should have some protection by virtue of her ability, but that hadn’t kept the archivist from attacking her.

“Eldest,” Amia said. She made no sign that she recognized what Tan had done.

The First Mother’s smile faded slightly. Her shaping built again before releasing in a soft wave that flooded over Amia. Tan held the barrier in place, protecting her.

They should be safe among the Aeta, but he couldn’t help but wonder if the First Mother would attack them in some way. Would the Brother? Tan wasn’t confident enough in his shaping to be able to get them to safety. The connection to Asboel was there, but distant, telling him the draasin was far away. He might answer if Tan called, but it would take him time to reach them.