“I, too. I despaired, but then I lived.” They had an easy way of touching, a hand placed carelessly on the other’s knee or shoulder. It was as though there was a misunderstanding between them and they had forgotten that normally there is an infinitesimal space between one body and the next, that which separates each solitary soul from another.
“You are old.”
“I am eldest.”
“Not bad looking, for an old man! Not like that warty, flabby old priest of a Serpent Skirt.”
They laughed together, almost giggling, suddenly younger than their years, boys again. Brothers. Twins.
“Don’t you see what this means?” demanded Sanglant’s mother with fists on hips, looking disgusted as she watched them slap each other’s arms. “More will come from the north! Cat Mask’s army will grow. We need not fear our enemies any longer, not with such a force.”
“Cat Mask’s army?” asked the young one, turning away from his brother. “Who is Cat Mask? What has he to do with me?”
“Hsst! She-Who-Creates has much to answer for! Will you strut and preen like the rest of the young men and fight for command like so many pissing dogs?”
His eyes narrowed. “You are my daughter by blood. My niece. Do not speak so to your elders, young one!”
“You are younger than I am! I have a grown son! I can speak any way I please!”
“Evidently your daughter more than mine, Zuangua,” said Eldest Uncle with a wheezy laugh. “Quick to temper, slow to wisdom. Both impatient. So I named her, remembering you.”
Instead of answering, Zuangua rose and stared north, a gaze that swept the horizon. Now Liath saw the resemblance to his twin brother, to his niece, and to Sanglant. The lineaments of his face had the same curve and structure. She felt the warmth of a mild, woken desire, seeing him as an attractive man. Until he looked straight at her. His expression shifted, the tightening of lips, the merest wrinkling of the nose, but she felt his scorn, she knew that he recognized her interest and rejected it. Rejected her.
His sneer scalded. She wasn’t used to indifference from men. She hadn’t desired or sought their interest, truly, but she had become used to it. Even King Henry, the most powerful man she had ever met, had succumbed.
So I am repaid for my vanity, she thought, and was cheered enough to smile coldly back at him.
He turned away to address his brother. “We will return, all of us who were caught beyond the White Road when the spell was woven. We who were once shadows are made flesh again. We want revenge for what we suffered. We will return day by day, more coming each day until we are like the floodwaters rising. Once we are all come home, we will make an army and destroy humankind. Our old enemy.”
“We are stronger than I thought!” murmured his niece. “Already more have joined the march than survived in exile!”
“It is not the right path,” said Eldest Uncle.
“So you have always claimed, but see what they did to us.” Zuangua gestured toward the barren wilderness. “This is what humankind made—a wasteland. You are old. Our people are diminished. Kansi said so herself, and if these rags are the best you have to wear, then I see it is true. The humans are many, but they are weak and the cataclysm has hurt them.” He touched the stained cloth that bound his shoulder. “Their king gave this wound to me, but I killed him. He is dead and your grandson risen in his place.”
Risen in his place.
Liath took a step back. The others did not notice, too intent on Zuangua’s speech.
“He seeks an alliance. We did act in concert when his need was great, but now we must consider him a danger. We cannot trust humankind.”
“We trusted them in the old days.”
“A few. The others always fought us, and will do so again. They will never trust us.”
“They won’t,” said Kansi. “They hate us. They fear us.”
“Do you speak such words even of your son?” Eldest Uncle asked.
“His heart lies with his father. I do not know him.”
“None of us know him. Better to learn what we can, scout the ground, before we act precipitously.”
“Better to act before we are dead!” retorted Zuangua. “So your daughter has advised me.”
“So.” Eldest Uncle sighed and shut his eyes a moment. “The first arrow has pierced deepest. You will believe her, despite what anyone else has to say.”
Liath had backed up four steps by now, one slow sweep at a time so as not to attract attention.