Voice of Crow

by Jeri Smith-Ready

  He reached to open the trunk again, but she kept her hand on it. He straightened and faced her. “Other times, I want other things.”

  The intensity of his gaze told her what some of those things were. “I don’t belong here, either,” she said. “Soon I’ll go home to Kalindos, unless the birds bring bad news, in which case I’ll go to Leukos.” She moved closer, until they were almost touching. “Will you come with me?”

  His eyes widened, then their corners drooped. “I’m not made to climb trees anymore.”

  “I mean, to Leukos. If we go, will you help us find Marek?”

  “Why would I want to help Marek? He’s the one who sedated the battle horses so I had to fight on foot. He’s the cause of all this.” He gestured to his leg and his surroundings. “If it weren’t for him I’d be home with my family, or on another campaign, serving my country with honor.”

  “Or maybe you’d be dead, or still have one-and-a-half legs. You can’t know the Spirits’ plan for your life. Maybe there’s a reason you’re here.” She laced her fingers with his and lowered her voice. “If you hate Marek, then don’t do it for him. Do it for yourself.”

  “Myself?”

  “Don’t you want to prove that not all Ilions are ruthless and cruel?”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to do, but I can’t make these people believe what they refuse to see.”

  She combed her mind for another argument. “This would be your chance to leave Asermos and go home. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “Haven’t you been listening? I can’t go home.”

  “Maybe not as the man you used to be. But you can learn to be someone else. I’ll help you. We all will.”

  He pulled away. “You ask too much.”

  “Fine!” The strength of her dismay shocked her. “Don’t do it for yourself, then. Do it for me.”

  He turned to her, mouth open.

  Alanka struggled to explain. “Ever since the battle, I can’t feel myself. I can’t remember who I am. But when I’m with you—I remember.” She sat on his trunk and crossed her arms. “I don’t know yet what we have, but I know I don’t want you out of my life. I realize it’s a lot to ask of a man. Call me selfish if you want, but there it is.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “Not selfish, brave. Braver than I am.” He sat next to her. “I don’t want to lose you, either. But—”

  “I see it!” Bolan shouted from outside. “It’s coming!”

  Alanka jolted but stayed put.

  She turned to her argument of last resort. “Filip, you told me you were bound by loyalty to me, because I saved your life. Did you mean it, or were you just being polite?”

  His head jerked up. “Of course I meant it. I’m in your debt forever.”

  “Then will you help us?” she whispered.

  He looked at the window, his gaze far away, then nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”

  “Thank you.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Let’s go.”

  They hurried out of the house and scanned the southwestern horizon. A white pigeon flapped toward them over the tops of the pines, like a tiny cloud skittering against the slate-gray sky. Filip and Alanka ran to the roost at the side of the stable. The others waited, peering up.

  Alanka went to Rhia, who was twisting her fists inside the hem of her blouse.

  The bird alighted on its cage and pushed its way inside, where a tin of food awaited it. Bolan walked forward, holding up a hand to the others.

  “Give her a moment,” he said. “She can’t think of anything but eating right now.”

  When the pigeon stopped wolfing down her grain and was pecking at it more judiciously, Bolan reached inside, grasped her and pulled her out. He held the pigeon up to his face and spoke somberly. “What happened? What did the Horse woman tell you to tell me?”

  The pigeon cooed and clucked. Alanka glanced at Filip for a clue, but his brow creased as if he only understood half of what was said.

  Bolan broke into a wide smile, and a gasp of relief flooded the small crowd. Rhia grabbed Alanka in a hard embrace. Alanka looked to the sky and whispered thanks to any Spirit who might be listening.

  Over Rhia’s shoulder, Alanka saw Bolan’s smile fade. She let go of Rhia and turned her to face the Horse.

  “I don’t understand,” he said to the pigeon. “Repeat that last part. He got back on the ship?”

  “What?” Rhia said. “Why would he—”

  “Shh.” Bolan gave her a warning glance. “It’s complicated, and the bird keeps mixing things up and putting them in the wrong order. I hope, at least.”

  Tereus pointed to the sky. “There’s another one!”

  A blue-gray pigeon with iridescent neck feathers flapped over the stable and landed on top of the roost.

  Bolan handed off the white pigeon to Tereus, then grabbed the gray one. “I’m sorry, I know you’re hungry, but tell me what happened. From the beginning. Slowly.”

  This time as the homing pigeon spoke, Bolan kept his expression flat. His face almost looked trancelike. Alanka looked at Filip, who pressed his lips tight, as if trapping a hard truth.

  Finally Bolan set the bird in the cage, then turned to the others.

  “I’m not sure of the particulars, but it sounds like two of the Asermon babies were rescued.” He turned to Rhia. “But not Nilik. Marek went back aboard the ship to be with his son. The ship left for Leukos.”

  Rhia quaked, and instinct made Alanka step away.

  “No!” Rhia advanced on Bolan. “How could they rescue the others and not Nilik? What went wrong? What happened?”

  “I—I’m not sure,” he said. “Something about baby baskets being switched.”

  “I’ll find out myself when I get to Velekos.” She turned to the others. “We leave at daybreak.”

  22

  Late the following morning, Rhia knelt with Damen on a pair of brown woolen rugs in the tiny cabin of Koli’s sailboat. Alanka was perched cross-legged on one of the two berths, a drum between her knees.

  It was time to speak to the dead.

  “The first time with the thanapras can be strange,” Damen said, and Rhia sensed it was one of his typical understatements. “If you feel like you’re floating away, concentrate on the drum and remember that it’s here in our world, the world where you belong.”

  Rhia felt queasy at the thought of addressing the dead, but it may have been the rocking of the boat on the river’s gentle waves.

  Damen lit the bundle of thanapras and placed it in a clay bowl on the floor between the two rugs. Rhia lay on her rug and closed her eyes. Even before he began the chant, she could feel the controlled power pouring from him.

  His deep voice made the air vibrate and dance against her skin. The herb had already swollen her mind, mingling the real and the unreal. Crow’s presence loomed closer, but out of reach.

  Damen finished the chant. Rhia felt the movement of air against her as he shifted to lie down. Alanka began to drum. Rhia’s muscles and consciousness sank into the floor as she focused on the quick, steady beat.

  The thanapras filled her senses, creating a scent she could almost see on the back of her eyelids, swirling, dancing to the drumbeat, carrying her to another realm.

  She slid into a fog.

  The fog thickened, then thinned to reveal a dry, dead valley. A single bare tree reached its black branches to the side like arms. An invisible sun poured a dull orange over the rocks, which seemed to hold no color of their own. Damen stood beside her.

  “Where are they?” she thought to him. They would speak in their minds to avoid Alanka’s ears.

  “Call out one of their names and ask them to speak.”

  She decided to start with the Kalindon Council leader instead of the dreaded Skaris. “Zilus!” she shouted in her mind.

  Zilus appeared, sitting on a rock half her height, about twenty paces away. Yellow-gray curls danced below his shoulders and around his head in a wind she couldn’t feel.

>   In his hands he held a writhing snake. Rhia stepped back.

  “Where have you been?” he asked her. “We used to sense you constantly.”

  She tore her gaze from the snake and found the breath to speak. “Early in my pregnancy I couldn’t shut you out. Later it became easier, especially after—” She didn’t want to say Nilik’s name in this place. “After my son was born. I meant no offense in ignoring you.”

  “None taken.” He stood and moved toward her, squeezing the serpent behind the head. Its contortions increased, as though it were in pain. “I wouldn’t want to hear from me, either.”

  “You’re in this place by your own choice,” Rhia said, as gently as her horror would allow. “Do you understand that?”

  “Yes.” He shifted his hands until he held the snake by the tip of its tail, at arm’s length. It wriggled and spun and gnashed its teeth at him. “I like it here.”

  “Who do you have?” she asked. “Is that the man who killed you? Is that his Spirit?”

  “You like it? It’s mine, but I’ll let you share it if you stay with us.” He dropped the snake in the dust. Before it could slither away, he stepped on its neck. Its tail slashed the air, and its mouth opened in a soundless hiss.

  “No. Thank you.” She fought to keep the disgust out of her voice. “I’m here to help you get out.”

  “Did I say I wanted to leave?” Zilus gestured to his surroundings. “It’s not that bad. Not when I have something to play with.” He picked up one end of the snake in each hand, let it fall slack like a rope and made a motion to tear it in half.

  “Stop!” she cried. “Let me speak to someone else.”

  “Thought you’d never ask,” said a deep voice to her left.

  She turned to see Skaris. Her old enemy stood before her as she remembered him—a dark, husky Bear who carried his bulk as though he needed no other weapon. His hands were behind his back. She knew what he held there but didn’t want to see.

  “Marek attacked you because you tried to poison me,” she told him. “He was protecting his mate.”

  “I couldn’t hurt you, locked up in my home awaiting trial. Marek acted out of vengeance. Everyone knew it, but they let him walk free.” He took a step closer to loom over her. “I told Coranna and this one—” he nodded to Damen “—and they did nothing.”

  “There was no proof other than your word.”

  “Bears don’t accidentally fall off cliffs. No one looked into my death because they were happy to get rid of me. I’d killed an elder, after all, but that wasn’t my fault. Razvin switched the cups so that Etar would die instead of you.”

  “How did you know that? Who told you?”

  “I did.” The smooth-as-oil voice behind her could only belong to Razvin, father to Alanka and Rhia’s half brothers.

  Rhia turned to him. He held a sleeping wolf pup in his arms, scratching its scruff. His long black hair swept the gray fur, making the pup’s ears twitch.

  “I saw you die,” she said.

  “So sorry.” The Fox’s tone was as suave in death as in life. “Couldn’t have been pleasant for you. Certainly wasn’t for me.”

  She was glad Alanka couldn’t hear even the Crows’ side of the conversation. If she knew her father wasn’t resting peacefully on the Other Side, she would sink further into the haze that had plagued her since the invasion of Kalindos.

  Rhia looked at the wolf pup in his arms. “Is that the Spirit of the soldier who killed you at the river?”

  “Soldier?” He turned the pup on its back and rubbed its belly. The wolf stretched and yawned, tongue curling over its triangular baby teeth. “Don’t you recognize her?”

  “Her?” Rhia looked at Damen, who shook his head sadly. “What’s he talking about?”

  “Not all soul theft is malevolent,” Damen said. “Some people just want to hold on to those they love.”

  Rhia fought to control her breath, even as her pulse sped up. “Alanka?” she whispered to the pup.

  “Of course,” Razvin said. “Can you think of a better reason for staying in a forsaken place like this?”

  She held out her trembling arms. “Let me hold her.”

  The Fox turned away, dark eyes flashing. “She’s mine.”

  “Razvin, your daughter suffers.”

  “It was her choice to fight in that battle. I raised her to be peaceful. I raised her to be Kalindon. But no, she had to go and kill for you, for your degenerate village.”

  Anger boiled within her. “Don’t you care what you’ve done to her?”

  “Of course. I love her.”

  Damen stepped closer to Rhia. “We’ve found that pronouncing judgment gets us nowhere.”

  She turned on her Crow brother. “Oh, you’ve found that, have you? You knew he had a part of Alanka, and you didn’t tell her. You didn’t even tell me.”

  “Because you would have told her.”

  “Of course I would! She has the right to know.” A thought dawned upon her. “Is that what Coranna meant when she said, ‘Don’t tell’?”

  “Perhaps.” He took her arm and led her away from the dead men. “I’ve been trying for months to convince Razvin to let Alanka go. I’ve made progress, which you’re about to undo.”

  She shook off his hand and pointed to the wolf pup, who lay limp in Razvin’s arms. “That doesn’t look like progress.”

  “Maybe not to you, but once you learn the proper procedures—”

  “There’s no time. Alanka needs her strength. We all need her strength. He’s stolen it, and I’m going to get it back.” She stalked toward Razvin. “Give her to me.”

  “You can’t make me.”

  “You’re in my realm,” she told him, “and you’ll do as I say.”

  “Not so cocky, little one.” Skaris stepped between them. “Even a Crow’s wings can be clipped.”

  He took his hands from behind his back. He held a crow upside down by the feet. It flapped and struggled, small black pinfeathers scattering in a cloud around it. Its beak opened wide, trying to peck at the hands that bound it.

  Rhia reached out, unable to form the words.

  “Come and get it,” Skaris said. He ran.

  She chased him through the rocky valley, Damen’s shouts fading far behind her. They ran for what felt like hours, but the landscape never changed and her legs never tired. With every step, the Bear pulled farther away. Her feet could move no faster than the drumbeat tethering her to the other world. She couldn’t let go of that sound, had to hold it inside herself or risk getting lost here forever.

  Skaris disappeared over the endless horizon, but Rhia kept running. He’d have to stop one of these days, one of these years. When he did, she would steal back the crow, and be whole again.

  As she ran, the rocks began to feel like markers showing the hours and days passing. Was she moving through a place or through time? Only Raven could move through time, but what if Rhia had been in this place for years? What if when she returned, everyone she loved had died?

  She stopped and listened for the drum. It came from her right. She moved toward it, following the beats like stones on a path. It drew her on, giving her strength to resist the pull of Skaris and the treasure he held.

  The dark tree appeared again, its branches pointing to the fog between two boulders. Damen stepped from the fog and held out his hand.

  “This way,” he said. “I’ll help you.”

  She swallowed her resentment and took his hand. The fog grew so thick, it was like breathing wool. She tried to pull back, but Damen yanked her arm.

  Rhia opened her eyes to the pale ceiling of the boat cabin. The thanapras stung her nostrils.

  The drumbeat stopped, and Rhia remembered Alanka. She sat up and clutched the berth in a wave of dizziness.

  “Are you all right?” Alanka said.

  Rhia looked at Damen through blurry eyes. “I have to tell her.”

  He crammed the smoldering thanapras in a bowl of water to douse it. “Do what you need to
do.” He jerked open the door and went outside to the crowded deck.

  “Tell me what?” Alanka said.

  Rhia clambered onto the berth beside her, head swimming. She took a deep breath, wondering how to start. “You’ve been…out of sorts for a long time, haven’t you?”

  Alanka shifted away a little. “A bit.”

  “Now I know why.”

  Rhia explained everything while Alanka listened, wide-eyed.

  “Thank you for telling me,” she said when Rhia was done. “I thought I was crazy. I thought it was my fault.”

  Rhia took her limp hand. “None of this is your fault.”

  “Why didn’t Damen tell me?”

  “Maybe he wanted to protect you. Maybe he thought he could solve your problem.”

  “Can he? Can you?”

  Rhia trembled inside at the thought of returning to the Gray Valley. “I’ll try my best.”

  “When?”

  “Tonight. Tomorrow. Every day until I get it back. See, you’re not the only one missing a part of herself. Skaris has a piece of my soul.”

  Alanka gasped, then her face turned puzzled. “But you haven’t been like me. Not as bad.”

  “I’ve been angry. Now more than ever. Maybe different people take different parts of others. Your father took your fire, your passion. Skaris took something else from me.” She shoved her hair out of her face. “I’m tired of feeling nothing but fire.”

  “I’m tired of feeling nothing.” Alanka sat for a long moment, running her teeth over her upper lip. “It doesn’t explain everything. When I came to Asermos, I felt better, especially after I met Filip. I felt like myself again. Not all the time, but sometimes.” Alanka swallowed hard. “But the night Marek was taken…I couldn’t save him.”

  “Of course you couldn’t.” Rhia put a hand on her arm. “He was too close to the soldiers for you to shoot them.”

  Alanka hesitated. “I lied. I had a clear shot, and if I’d gotten one of them, Marek could’ve disarmed the other. He was probably waiting for me to shoot.”

  Rhia’s skin prickled. “Why didn’t you?”

  “I aimed at the soldiers, and suddenly…my mind came loose. All I could see were the men I killed on the battlefield. It was like I was right back there with death and blood all around me. When it was over, Marek was already on the boat.” She put her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry, Rhia. I failed you. I failed Marek. So Wolf took away my powers, and now I’m useless.”