“Don’t fight,” said the one called Frigo, getting hold of the girl’s ear and pinching.
She shrieked, a sound that ought to have woken the dead and certainly made every man there clap a hand over an ear as she sucked in air to shriek again. Without the slightest expression of anger or pleasure, Frigo tweaked her ear a little farther and she subsided into coughing and mewling. He let go, and she stayed quiet.
The archway of light sprayed fountains of sparks as Lord Hugh strode out of the circle of stones. Twilight shrouded him, but it was lightening quickly. He counted his party, nine soldiers and two prisoners, before turning to survey the crown. It had ten stones standing in eerily perfect order, as if recently raised.
“Where are we, my lord?” asked Frigo as Blessing sucked on her little finger and stared at Hugh with a look meant to slay.
“According to my map, we are many days east and somewhat north of Darre, but south of the latitude of Novomo.” He consulted his memory; Anna could tell by the way his gaze went vacant as though he were looking at something inside himself. “‘Four leagues beyond Siliga, eleven stones.”’
He marked each stone and gestured toward a vast tangle of bramble that lay a stone’s toss east of the circle just where the hillside had collapsed. Beyond, the land sloped down into a coastal plain. Anna thought she could see water to the south beyond a desiccated landscape of pale grass and stands of paler bush, which were almost white, like stalks of slender finger bones.
“There must be a stone there,” Hugh said.
wept her gaze around the chamber, challenging any to interrupt her. None did. “Know this! Feather Cloak bore a son and now twin daughters, although most of our people became barren. Even The Impatient One had to couple with a man born of humankind in order to conceive a son!”
“Done at the urging of the council!” cried Cat Mask, out of turn. “Not out of lust for power!”
“Do not throw sharp words at me, young one!” said White Feather. She was old enough to be his aunt, and he frowned, head twitching sideways just once, as he suppressed his annoyance. “We must not ignore how powerful Feather Cloak’s magic is, that she retained her fertility when the rest of us ran dry. There is wisdom in choosing as leaders those who seek life, not death.” She stepped one pace back. “I am done speaking.”
Kansi-a-lari smiled.
Feather Cloak felt a cold current in her blood as at ice released into a summer stream. That was a predator’s smile, having seen that its prey is now cornered.
“I have no argument against White Feather. Feather Cloak’s magic and power served us well in exile. But we do not stand in exile any longer. I say what I have to say: I have walked in both worlds. Humankind is a threat. They outnumber us. We must move swiftly or be overrun. Our sorcery is stronger than theirs. I battled their strongest warrior, and I defeated him because I possess magic and he had only brute force. Our scouts suggest there is great destruction in their land. If they are in disorder, leaderless, and struggling to rebuild, even to survive, then now is our best chance. We may not get another.”
Feather Cloak stood. The heavy feather cloak fastened over her shoulders spilled around her body, whispering in the tones of conspirators. She had regained her physical strength since the birth of her daughters, but as she faced her rival she knew that The Impatient One had chosen the right time to attack. Her resolve still suffered. She had not yet adjusted to what it meant to be home, on Earth, a place she knew only in story.
She raised both palms. The assembly stilled, not even a foot shifting on dirt, not even a hand scratching an arm. She still had that power.
“Let it be put to the vote,” she said coolly. “Let each household delegate a speaker to cast their stone into the black basket or the white, as the gods decreed at the beginning of time. The assembly will meet on an auspicious day as chosen by the blood knives, at the Heart-of-the-World’s-Beginning. I have spoken.”
4
ANNA tasted dry grass as they rode through an archway of light into dawn. Chaff coated her moist lips. A smear of red lit hills and she stared, wondering what that light might signify.
“The sun!” murmured scarred John, who rode ahead of her. As her ears cleared, popping, she heard the other soldiers exclaiming at their first glimpse of the sun in months. Above, clouds obscured the night sky, but the eastern dawn rose with a startling glow as though the far hills were on fire.
Blessing snorted and, kicking, came awake. “Put me down!”
Anna twisted. “Your Highness! I pray you! Keep still, Your Highness! I am with you.”
“Don’t fight,” said the one called Frigo, getting hold of the girl’s ear and pinching.
She shrieked, a sound that ought to have woken the dead and certainly made every man there clap a hand over an ear as she sucked in air to shriek again. Without the slightest expression of anger or pleasure, Frigo tweaked her ear a little farther and she subsided into coughing and mewling. He let go, and she stayed quiet.
The archway of light sprayed fountains of sparks as Lord Hugh strode out of the circle of stones. Twilight shrouded him, but it was lightening quickly. He counted his party, nine soldiers and two prisoners, before turning to survey the crown. It had ten stones standing in eerily perfect order, as if recently raised.
“Where are we, my lord?” asked Frigo as Blessing sucked on her little finger and stared at Hugh with a look meant to slay.
“According to my map, we are many days east and somewhat north of Darre, but south of the latitude of Novomo.” He consulted his memory; Anna could tell by the way his gaze went vacant as though he were looking at something inside himself. “‘Four leagues beyond Siliga, eleven stones.”’
He marked each stone and gestured toward a vast tangle of bramble that lay a stone’s toss east of the circle just where the hillside had collapsed. Beyond, the land sloped down into a coastal plain. Anna thought she could see water to the south beyond a desiccated landscape of pale grass and stands of paler bush, which were almost white, like stalks of slender finger bones.
“There must be a stone there,” Hugh said.
Scarred John dismounted to investigate. The presbyter lifted the golden disk. He fussed with it, moving one circle on top of another, turned a crooked bar on the back, sighted toward the eastern horizon, read—lips moving—from the back, then shook his head. After this, he fished in the pack he wore, withdrew a square of waxed canvas, wrapped the disk up inside, and returned it to the pouch.
“Are we lost, my lord?” asked Frigo.