Eyes of Crow (29 page)

To break the spell that war had cast upon them, Rhia nudged Alanka’s arm. “How do you like the ale?”

“Tastes better than meloxa.” Alanka belched, to her brothers’ amusement. “But I need twice as much to get half as drunk.”

“We have ways of drinking faster,” Nilo said, “time-honored methods passed down through the ages from big brothers to little sisters.”

They talked and drank until long after the stars appeared. Rhia banished her thoughts of death, danger and betrayal. For one summer night, at least, it was enough to be young and alive and with the family she loved.

“You go in,” Tereus told them. “Your parts in this are bigger than mine.”

Alanka agreed, frowning. Rhia worried that Razvin’s name would be spoken with venom in this meeting. She squeezed her friend’s hand and led her through the crowd toward the center of the stuffy room where a long wooden table sat.

“If they can see you, they might not mention your father.”

“I can’t blame them for being angry. I know I am.” Alanka’s hand swept her forehead. “There’s so many people in one place.”

“You’re not used to it.” Neither was she, Rhia realized. After the Kalindon serenity, the bustle of Asermos threatened to suffocate her. But here she would remain, though she felt she had left a piece of herself behind in the forest, a piece held firmly in the jaws of a certain Wolf.

Rhia and Alanka found seats near the table just as Galen and the ten other village Council members filed in and took their seats around it. The Hawk waited several moments for the crowd to quiet, then stood next to his chair at the center of the table. The wave of silence spread from the front to the back of the room.

“By now,” he said, “most of you have an idea why I’ve called a meeting of the entire village. Rumors fly quickly in Asermos.”

A man in the front row stood. “Galen, are the Descendants invading or not?”

Galen took a deep breath. “We have reason to believe so.”

The hall erupted in dismayed cries and impromptu discussions as the word spread to the folks outside. Galen gave them a chance to assimilate the news, then held up a hand for quiet.

“We have sent extra scouts, Bats and Weasels, both south and west to monitor the progress of Descendant troops. We don’t know yet when the invasion will take place. It may be days, weeks or months, but we must prepare. I have asked the village of Tiros to take in any Asermons who wish to evacuate. Those who wish to leave or send their children should prepare to do so immediately.”

Galen gestured to a tall, thick-set man standing against the wall to the side of the table. “Torin would like all Bears to assemble immediately after this meeting at his headquarters to review military strategies. Wolverines, Wasps and all archers meet them in Deer Meadow at first light tomorrow to begin maneuvers.”

Many audience members appeared to calm at the thought of the Asermon defense forces. Few of them, Rhia included, understood the true power of the village’s army. At least, she hoped that there was more to it than met the eye, for there could have been no more than a few hundred Bears and Wolverines, a few dozen archers—Bobcats, mostly—and perhaps a dozen Wasps. Others would help fight, but the total forces available did not approach a thousand.

Silina the Turtle woman raised her hand, and Galen gestured for her to speak. She stood slowly. Rhia had never seen her so somber. Even when Mayra had died, Silina’s sorrow had been tempered with tenderness. Now her face held pure dread.

“Galen,” she said, “in the last day, since the rumors began, I have had several visits from Asermons who wish to—” she bit down on the word “—hasten toward their second-phase powers in time for the battle.”

It took a moment for the implications to set in.

Galen cleared his throat. “I’m not sure I understand. You’re saying that some villagers—”

“Want to make babies to gain power,” she said. “I can’t say it any clearer than that.”

Rhia saw her horrified gaze reflected in Alanka’s face as the crowd descended into heated mutters.

“You can’t do that,” Alanka whispered to Rhia. “Look what happened to Marek when he wasn’t ready to be a father.”

His face etched in silent pondering, Galen sat down to indicate the topic was open for all to discuss.

Silina raised her voice. “Please, I beg everyone to reconsider such an act. The Spirits require us to be truly prepared before passing to the second phase—prepared to be parents, that is.”

“I agree.” Torin stepped forward. “We’ve all seen the perversion of powers that results from the rash acts of young people.” He cast a scowl over the gathering, and Rhia wondered if his daughter Torynna had gotten pregnant early, as she’d planned. “We can’t risk such chaos at a time like this.”

One of the other Council members, a Horse woman named Arma, rose to her feet. “But Torin, wouldn’t the Spirits want us to protect ourselves? Why else would they give us powers if not to use them in our defense?”

“It’s not right,” Silina retorted. “What about the children left behind when their fathers are killed in battle?”

“If the fathers are second-phase,” Arma said, “they’re less likely to die in battle to begin with.”

Murmurs of assent ran through the audience. On the opposite side of the room, a Wolverine Rhia didn’t know raised his hand, then spoke without waiting to be acknowledged. “Many of us will die whether we’re first-, second-or third-phase. The population of Asermos may be decimated. We need all the children we can get.”

“Children without parents?” Silina said. “What kind of life will they have if we lose?”

“If we lose,” Arma said, stepping forward, “the Descendants will take the spoils of war. Including women.”

Rhia put a hand to her chest. Rape was a weapon as old as war itself. But if some women were already pregnant with Asermon children, at least the Descendants could not wipe out bloodlines with their own seed. The logic chilled her.

“It takes time to get pregnant,” Silina pointed out. “New powers might not even be available in time for the battle.”

“We don’t know that,” said the Wolverine. “Galen said the invasion could be weeks or months away.”

Rhia looked at the Hawk, as did many of the other villagers. Galen made no move to speak, but merely absorbed the arguments around him. The opinions seemed equally divided between those in favor of the idea and those opposing it.

Rhia understood the temptation to reach for power; it had existed as long as her people possessed Animal magic. But the Spirits forbade such actions. Even those like Marek, who broke the rules accidentally, suffered consequences. For a person—or an entire village—to create children for the sole purpose of gaining power…

But in a desperate situation, their lives, their freedoms, their way of life, might depend on such power. Perhaps the Spirits would forgive them.

The debate raged for several more minutes, and still Galen sat silent. Eventually the number of people waiting for him to speak exceeded the number of people trying to speak themselves, and the crowd quieted.

He stood and seemed to meet the gaze of each person before addressing them. “Thank you for your attention. This idea troubles me, to say the least. You have heard well-intentioned, well-reasoned arguments on either side. If you are waiting for me to tell you what to do, I’m afraid I can’t satisfy that wish. The decision to become a mother or father is one that cannot be dictated by Council decree. It is between you, your spouse or mate, and your Guardian Spirits. Search your hearts and ask the Spirits if you have the wisdom to handle both the new powers and the new responsibilities of parenthood. Advancing too quickly can have terrible consequences for the individual and the community alike.”

Galen concluded, “We will meet again when the scouts have returned. Until then, the warriors have their orders. Everyone else—” A wisp of sadness brushed his face. “Prepare.”

As the crowd filed out, beginning from the back, Rhia caught a glimpse of Dorius, Galen’s brother. She remembered her vision of the man’s death, his bleeding body writhing under the golden oak tree. Did it mean that the Descendants would not invade until autumn? Perhaps the war would last until then and Dorius would be killed in a later battle or skirmish.

She rubbed her forehead, as if the action would smooth her thoughts. For all she knew, the vision could take place next year or the year after. It hadn’t shown a clear enough glimpse of his face to guess his age, and since Butterflies maintained a youthful appearance far longer than others, his death could occur years from now.

Regardless, Galen should know. But he had forbidden her to reveal her visions of others’ death.

Alanka laid her hand on Rhia’s knee. “You haven’t said a word about Marek since we left Kalindos.” Though they were not alone, the hall’s background noise allowed them privacy. “I wouldn’t give up hope. He may yet come. They may all yet come.” Alanka’s voice took on an edge. “And if they don’t, and we lose this battle, may those lofty trees fall on their heads.”

Rhia was in the kennel a few afternoons later, showing Alanka how to groom the hounds, when Arcas appeared on foot over the top of the hillside.

Alanka elbowed her in the ribs. “You think he wants to, er, gain power with you?”

Rhia sighed. Even if Marek never came, even if he were dead or had decided to stay to defend Kalindos, she couldn’t bear the thought of another man’s hands, another man’s scent, on her body. Not for Arcas, not even for Asermos. “I can’t.”

“I know.” The Wolf girl assessed him from a distance. “If you don’t want him, there must be other women who do.”

“Don’t remind me.”

As Arcas came closer, the hounds leaped against the fence to greet him, wagging their long gray tails.

“I missed you fellows.” He ruffled the fur on the closest one’s head. “And you ladies, too.” He waved to the females who bounced and barked behind their larger companions.

“Hello, Arcas.” Alanka started forward, undeterred by the rampaging dogs.

He squinted into the sun at her. “I hear you’re deadly with an arrow. We could use someone like you.”

“I’ve never shot a human before.” Alanka touched her collarbone where her long braid used to hang. “But I’d be honored to try. I mean, honored to be trained as a warrior.”

Arcas bowed his head to her. “Thank you.” After an awkward pause, he cleared his throat. “Would you like to go for a ride?” He directed the question to Rhia, but, ever-courteous, included Alanka in his glance.

“Not me,” Alanka said. “I still haven’t recovered from the trip from Kalindos.” She rubbed her backside and gave an exaggerated wince.

Arcas turned to Rhia. “Your father said the two chestnut ponies need more exercise.”

Rhia looked away and nodded. She couldn’t avoid him forever. “I’ll get the bridles.”

Once on horseback, Arcas set out toward the southwest.

Rhia followed. “Why are we going this way?”

“I have something to show you.” He held up a hand. “It’s a surprise, so don’t ruin it with a hundred questions.”

They rode in silence through the sun-speckled woods. Finally Arcas asked her, “What did you miss most about Asermos?”

“Now that I’m back, I realize I missed the clouds. In Kalindos you can’t see more than a patch of sky at any time, so the shapes of clouds get lost. I missed deciding what they looked like.”

“What else did you miss?”

“Bread. Ale. Cheese.”

“And?”

“And dogs.”

He sighed. “What do you miss most about Kalindos?” She didn’t reply. The trail widened, and he slowed his pony to come beside her. “You met someone there.”

“I met many people. They were good, mostly. Even Razvin—he loved his daughter so much he was willing to do anything to protect her. People there, they love fiercely.”

“Do they?”

She didn’t meet his eye. “Look at Alanka. She traveled all this way to help us, because she’s my friend and my sister. She knew she might be greeted with hostility because of what her father did.”

“No one would dare treat her badly now that she’s fighting for us.”

“Wolves usually hunt as a group. She may be able to draw from that for battle tactics.”

“Good idea. I’ll ask her.” His fingers idly combed the end of the pony’s red mane that swept the riding blanket. “Are there other examples?”

“Examples of what?”

“Kalindons who love fiercely.”

Her heart twisted. “I believe so,” she said softly.

“You wait for someone else to come.”

“I do.”

Arcas fell silent beside her. Framed by the trees, a wide field lay ahead, where stalks of wheat, still early-summer green, undulated in the wind.

He grabbed one of her pony’s reins. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“It’s the surprise. Trust me.”

She shut her eyes, clamping the pony tighter with her legs to maintain balance. With no sight, the sounds and smells of the field and trees came stronger. Soft stalks brushed Rhia’s legs, releasing a dusty scent. Soon the way was clear; they must have reached a path in the middle of the field.

“It’s just a little farther.” Arcas led them a bit farther, then halted both ponies. “Open your eyes.”

She did, and gasped.

Ringing half the field were a dozen trees in every color of autumn. Leaves of scarlet, orange and gold leaped from the background of green forest.