Shifting Loyalties

by Melissa McShane

  The nearest pyre bore the lone human form among the dead. Wit’s face was peaceful, not vicious and mindless as it had been the last time Sienne saw him. The small gash where Clever’s knife had taken him in the chest had been cleaned of blood. It looked so innocuous a thing to have caused a man’s death. She stared at him, willing herself to remember him as he’d been and not as the monster he’d become. Alaric was right; Wit had been dead the moment he’d taken his first bite of werebear flesh. And she’d come so close to joining him. She wiped tears away, not sure who she was crying for, Wit or herself.

  Alaric put his arm around her. “Try not to think about it,” he said. He understood her mind better than she did. “You’re safe, and Wit’s body won’t be used to commit any more horrors. He would have welcomed death if he’d known the alternative.”

  “It’s hard when there’s no one to blame,” she whispered. “It’s so senseless.”

  “Death usually is.”

  The watching weres, all in human form, moved to allow Test passage between them to the first of the pyres. He was followed by a younger were with golden skin who carried a burning torch. Test turned to face the others, regarding them silently. That they were communicating in the way Swift had described became clear when the crowd shifted to bear form as one, squatted back on their haunches, and let out a short cry something between a bark and a howl. It echoed through the clearing and floated away into the sky. Sienne hoped the avatars were watching, and that the cry would touch their hearts. It was impossible now to think of werebears as being any less deserving of God’s mercy than a human.

  Test took the torch from his assistant and touched it to the nearest pyre. Sienne didn’t know what they’d treated the wood with, but it went up as readily as if it had been drenched with oil. The smell of wood smoke curled up from the pyre, rousing her hunger—they hadn’t yet eaten. It embarrassed her, made her feel weak and disrespectful of the dead. And she hadn’t yet come to terms with her body’s demands for food, remembering all too clearly the terrible lust for human flesh that had consumed her. That specific craving no longer troubled her, but she irrationally feared its return.

  Test moved on to the next pyre, and the next, and the crowd returned to human form and fractured into small groups, each attending a different pyre. Sienne no longer felt discomfort at seeing so many naked people all together. She wished she’d known the weres who’d died, to honor them properly, but she had to settle for looking long at each group and wishing peace to his or her kin.

  A woman detached herself from the rest and approached them. “Thank you,” Clever said. “More of us would have died if not for you.”

  “None of you would have died if you hadn’t joined the fight,” Alaric said. “We owe you thanks.”

  “You spoke truth. We are people, not animals, and if we wish to be accorded those rights, we ought to behave as such.” Clever turned to Sienne and bowed. “I have a thing to ask of you. Test is…concerned about the state of Wit’s soul. He believes an ordinary pyre might not be enough to cleanse his flesh of the howler’s taint.”

  “You want a magical fire?” Sienne nodded. “Of course. I’d be happy to.”

  “No human has ever participated in our funeral rites before. It marks another change.” Clever smiled. “Bright would not be happy.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Sienne said, only partly meaning it. “I’m sure her death is a tremendous blow.”

  “Her death in battle restores her honor,” Clever said. “She knew she would have far to go to regain my trust. That she acted against you, Sienne, believing she did what was best for our people does not change the fact that she tried to kill a guest. That is a serious breach of our laws—something a law-speaker would have known. I apologize again on her behalf.”

  “Thank you,” Sienne said. “What about the ones I had to attack? What happens to them?”

  “They believed they were authorized to attack you, and were horrified to learn Bright was acting alone. I believe their penitence and choose to forgive them. I hope you will accept my apology for them as well.”

  “It makes me glad I didn’t use something more deadly.”

  “I as well.” Clever inclined her head to Alaric. “Are we still in agreement? You will speak with the king for us?”

  “We will. Who will you send with us? Swift?”

  “Yes. It will give him something to distract him from his grieving. And he understands humans better than the rest of us.” Clever turned in response to a signal Sienne couldn’t hear, lifting her head as if listening. “Test is ready. The other pyres are all lit.”

  Test was crossing the clearing toward them, his path weaving to avoid the stumps of the trees sacrificed for the pyres. “She will do it,” Clever said when he was near enough.

  “Thank you,” Test said in his creaky voice. “It is fitting.”

  Sienne walked toward Wit’s pyre. It was waist-high to her, its logs forming a solid foundation like a campfire she herself might have built. Like the fires she’d built for Wit to cook on while they traveled. She swallowed tears and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry it ended like this,” she said. “I hope Perrin is right, and God’s mercy encompasses you.”

  She read out the spell burn with calm deliberation, savoring each syllable despite the bitter acid tinging them, the last gift she could give her friend. The power built within her, burning her chest until it shot away from her in a streak of blue fire. It struck the pyre and spread as rapidly as the ordinary fire had, burning hot and fierce enough she had to take a few steps back as it scorched her face. Wit’s body looked gray in the blue light and crackled as it was devoured.

  She felt her friends’ presence as they came to join her. No one spoke. It seemed fitting to let Wit burn with only the voice of the fire as a final tribute. They watched in silence until the pyre collapsed, burying what was left of Wit in its remains. Test said, “It is enough. Will the fire burn itself out, or is it magical?”

  “It will die when it’s out of fuel,” Sienne said.

  “Then you need not stay longer,” Test said.

  Alaric put his arm around Sienne and steered her away from the pyre. She was grateful for his guidance, because she felt she might otherwise stare at the blue flames until they were gone. “Food,” he said, “and then we start for home.”

  “No,” Sienne said. “We have something else to take care of first.”

  There was no question, this time, that the room filled with ritual was not anywhere near the ruin. The small round windows showed not midday light, but a starless night that blended with the domed roof. Sienne stood in front of her ritual and scribbled the details in her notebook. Its contents were now more precious than all the treasure in Nocenti’s chest.

  “We should copy all of these,” Alaric said. “Who knows what value they might have?”

  “You don’t suppose we went back in time as well as moving elsewhere, do you?” Dianthe said. “Given how well-preserved this place is.”

  “Pray, do not give me more to worry about,” Perrin said. He was walking around the center of the room, examining the floor. Sienne had seen only that it was a mosaic of some sort before the writing on the walls had claimed her attention. “I do not care for this image. It is unsettling.”

  “What is it?” Kalanath asked, going to join him.

  Perrin scuffed away dust with the toe of his boot. “People praying, or at least that is how I interpret their kneeling, penitent stance. And this, in the middle—it is a symbol, but not one of any avatar I know.”

  Kalanath crouched and swiped his hand across it. “Good God,” he said in Omeiran. Sienne’s head jerked up. She’d never heard Kalanath blaspheme before.

  “What did you say?” Perrin asked.

  Kalanath stood and walked away. Sienne finished writing the ritual in her notebook and turned to watch him. He strode to the doorway and stood with his right hand clenched on the frame. His left hand held his staff so hard his knuckles were pale a
gainst his dark skin. Then he thrust himself away from the door and paced before it, turning rapidly in his agitation.

  “Kalanath?” Sienne asked. “Is something wrong?”

  “I do not know if I should say,” Kalanath said.

  “If it’s something important, we should know about it,” Dianthe said.

  “It is not—no, it may be important. But it is not for me to speak. It is sacred.”

  Alaric approached him. “You mean, something you’re sworn not to reveal.”

  Kalanath nodded. “I do not follow my religion as I once did,” he said. “In some ways, I am no longer Omeiran. To be Omeiran is to be one with God—do you understand?”

  Sienne shook her head, but Perrin said, “Do you mean that being Omeiran is in part a religious observance, and not just a matter of birth or homeland?”

  “Yes. That is it. We are Omeiran and we are one with God. I am not—” He resumed pacing. “I rejected God when I left. It is not a thing I can share now. Please understand.”

  “But there are plenty of Omeirans in Fioretti,” Sienne said, “and they have places of worship and follow your dietary code.”

  “Yes. No. It was not leaving that did it. It was that who I am—that I was the one who left. And the way I left.”

  “You don’t have to tell us now,” Alaric said. “You have a right to privacy. But we’re your friends, and I hope you know that if you can tell anyone, you can tell us.”

  Kalanath nodded again. “I…think I will. But not in this place. Not with that—” He jabbed his staff in the direction of the mosaic—“watching.”

  “All right, Kalanath, you have to tell us something,” Sienne said. “Because now I’m scared.”

  Kalanath let out a deep breath. Slowly, he walked back to the mosaic, his staff held ready to strike. “You know that we believe God is one,” he said. “That She speaks to us without the need to appear in human form. But we also believe God is many.” He shook his head. “Not many people. Many…intents. Many powers. God as creator. God as healer. God as defender. That is how She is many. And since we do not show God as human, we have symbols to show Her in Her many powers. That is one of them.”

  “An Omeiran religious symbol in a Rafellish ruin?” Perrin said. “Then perhaps we are elsewhere, after all.”

  “What symbol?” Alaric said. He was watching Kalanath closely, regarding him like an owl stalking a mouse.

  Kalanath drew in a deep breath. “God as destroyer,” he said.

  All of them took an involuntary step back. Perrin took two more steps so he was no longer standing on the mosaic. “People worshipping God as destroyer?” he said. “Or does it have a different significance in your culture?”

  “It does,” Kalanath said. “We believe God does not destroy as a whim. She destroys to make room for something new. This means change, this picture. But it is not pleasant change. God sees far enough that She knows what will make us happy for a long time, not what will make us happy now. And the kind of change that makes for long happiness hurts. To worship God as destroyer…” He appeared to be searching for words. “It is when you reach beyond your grasp. To take pride in being given challenges because you think you are too good to fail.”

  “Hubris,” Perrin said. “You mean it is prideful to worship God in this…power?”

  “Yes. We are not to fear God as destroyer, because She loves us to give us this change, but we are not to seek Her out. This—” He tapped the symbol. “This makes me wonder what the reason for this room was. Knowledge, because of the rituals, but knowledge for what?”

  “I wonder,” Alaric said, but whatever his thought was, he didn’t complete it.

  “But it doesn’t mean the rituals are evil, right? I mean, that’s not an evil thing, if it’s about God,” Sienne said.

  “I think the rituals are just rituals,” Kalanath said. “And they used the rituals for gaining knowledge that would make a change.”

  “And yet everything’s written in Ginatic,” Alaric mused. “Why Omeiran symbols in a pre-Rafellish building?”

  “We don’t know how much contact there was between Omeira and the ancients,” Sienne said. “They might have worked together on scholastic things. Or even magic.”

  “Omeirans do not have wizards,” Kalanath reminded her.

  “They don’t now. Who knows what things were like four hundred years ago? Besides, don’t you think it’s strange that no Omeirans are born wizards? It’s not like you’re not human, and even people from the southern continent and from Chysegar can be wizards.”

  “I do not know,” Kalanath said. “This suggests they knew something of magic, if this place is as old as you think.”

  “Sienne, copy as many of the rituals as you can make out,” Alaric said. “Perrin, can you sketch the mosaic? Kalanath, is it blasphemous to copy that symbol?”

  “Not blasphemous, but not safe,” Kalanath said. “To carry it with us is like asking for God’s presence in that power. We do not want to call down destruction on ourselves. Besides, I know it and will not forget it.”

  “All right. Don’t copy the symbol, Perrin. Let’s wring as much knowledge from this place as we can, and then I want to be on the road no matter how late it is.”

  Knowing what time it was inside the midnight chamber was impossible, but Sienne was still surprised to find it was just after noon when they emerged. She stopped to look back at the ruin just before they left the clearing to return to the werebears’ camp. “Do you suppose we should warn the werebears?” she asked. “If that ruin takes you to some other place, or some other time—”

  “They’ve been using it for years and nothing has ever happened,” Alaric said. “We can tell Clever what we suspect and let her decide what to tell her people.”

  Sienne wasn’t sure that was good enough, but she had to admit she hadn’t felt any evil coming from the place. Even the symbol had felt innocuous, Kalanath’s story notwithstanding. She turned to follow Alaric into the forest. With the notebook and its precious contents stowed safely in her pack, she felt confident in a way she hadn’t felt in the weeks since she’d begun actively searching for rituals. Knife, goblet, sedative potion, and full ritual. Now they just needed to know if the wizard had altered the second half of the ritual, and they’d be in a position to figure out how to undo the binding the Sassaven were under. It filled her with heady delight.

  Back in the camp, they tracked Swift down at the speaking tent. “Clever and Yannick are talking,” he said in a low voice. “She asked you to enter when you arrived.”

  Alaric raised his eyebrows, but pushed open the tent door for Sienne to go first. Clever and Yannick sat opposite each other on the tiny stools, their conversation breaking off when Sienne entered. Yannick rose, but Clever remained seated. “Thank you for speaking with me before you leave,” Clever said.

  “Not to be rude, but is there anything left to say?” Alaric said. “We have an understanding between us that we’ll take to the king, along with Swift as the first emissary of your people.”

  “Yannick and I have discussed further,” Clever said, “about the relationship between weres and humans, or at least between this camp and the human settlement.”

  “I’d like you to tell the king that we support the weres becoming citizens,” Yannick said. “If he knows at least some humans are willing to accept them as people, he might be more willing to grant their request.”

  “That’s…generous of you,” Alaric said. “Are all the settlers in agreement?”

  “Most of them. Enough that we intend to help them build a permanent home.”

  “What if the king rejects their plea?” Sienne blurted out. “They won’t be citizens and they’ll still live nearby.”

  Yannick shrugged. “This is the frontier. Not a lot happens out here for the king to get upset about. We tend to live our lives free from government interference. By the time the king finds out we’re living cheek by jowl with intelligent weres, it will be a settled thing. And maybe
that will change his mind.”

  “I’m sorry,” Dianthe said. “I find it hard to believe your people are that well-adjusted.”

  “That howler went a long way toward reminding us what the real monsters are in this world,” Yannick said. “The weres have saved our lives, protected our children, and we’ve never seen a single bear attack since the settlement began. Some of us are more wary than others, but they’ll come around. Particularly once a few more of us have seen this place. No offense,” he said to Clever, who inclined her head in acknowledgement.

  “We will work together to build permanent homes,” Clever said. “With the humans’ help, we should be protected come the winter. It is a start.”

  “Thank you,” Alaric said, clasping Yannick’s hand. “Let’s hope the king is as understanding as you all are.” He saluted Clever. “And that he’s willing to hear us out.”

  “We owe you much,” Clever said. “Return someday, and we will honor you with a feast that lasts three days.”

  “I think even I could eat my fill in that time,” Alaric said with a smile.

  Swift rose from where he squatted on the ground when they emerged. “Time to go?” he said. “I’m past ready.”

  “Time to go,” Alaric said. “I hope you have some stories to pass the time.”

  “Plenty of stories,” Swift said. “But I’ll never tell ‘Grizel and the Howlers’ again.”

  20

  A rare true summer storm brought them within sight of Fioretti seven days later. They took shelter at the nearest waystation and sat in the common room, listening to the rain pound the roof and crash against the windows. It had blown in from the east, and Sienne thought about the werebear camp and wondered if they had stayed dry when it struck. How far had they gotten in building homes? Those snug little one-room buildings would be such a comfort when it rained, or snowed.