Voice of Crow

by Jeri Smith-Ready

  Rhia followed him. “The pigeons said the other two babies had been saved but not Nilik. That Marek went aboard the ship willingly?”

  “I wasn’t there, but that’s what I heard.” Nathas unloaded a crate of leafy greens. “If it helps, the children who were saved seemed to be unharmed. They’re on their way back to Asermos already.”

  Bitter envy stung her tongue. Soon those other parents would hold their babies again, while her arms would stay empty. She should be happy for them, but her heart filled with a scorched black hate.

  She picked up a long-bladed knife and a handful of root vegetables and began chopping. The slice and thonk of the blade temporarily eased her need to strike out.

  To distract herself, Rhia tried to make conversation with Nathas. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said.

  “No, you haven’t.” He tapped the Owl feather hanging around his neck. “Even if I couldn’t sniff a lie, I know Damen doesn’t talk about me or anything else inside that head of his.”

  A knock sounded on the door. Damen went to answer it. Rhia stepped forward, hoping it was Eneas with her message, but it was the rest of her rescue party. The house grew loud with introductions, and Rhia retreated to the kitchen where she could make herself useful and keep from screaming at everyone. She picked up the knife and a head of cabbage.

  Soon Lycas and Nathas joined her. “I was hoping the pigeon message was wrong, too,” her brother said, pouring himself a mug of ale. “But we’ll find them in Leukos.”

  Nathas looked up from the stove. “Er, how are you planning to get there?”

  “We’ll charter a ship, of course,” Rhia said.

  “Oh, dear.” The Owl replaced the lid on the pot of water. “After the kidnapping, Velekos set up a complete embargo on Ilios. No one comes or goes there from our port.”

  Rhia gripped the handle of the knife. “We can’t sail to Leukos?”

  “It’s long overdue,” Reni added from the other rooms. “If Velekos had embargoed Ilios after the invasions, then your husband and child couldn’t have been kidnapped, at least not so easily.”

  Rhia set down the knife, fearing what might become of it. “How are we supposed to get to Leukos?”

  “Go around.” Filip sat down on the stairs with Alanka. “That’s how our battalion came to Asermos. We traveled around the sea, then west of Velekos and met the rest of the brigade outside your village.”

  “Before you invaded it,” Lycas added bitterly.

  “You’re an Ilion?” Nathas asked Filip. “I wondered why you wore no fetish, but I figured you were one of those contrary Kalindons.”

  “Filip’s not an Ilion anymore,” Alanka said. “He’s been chosen by the Horse Spirit.” She lifted her chin. “I’m one of those contrary Kalindons.”

  Rhia approached Filip. “How long will it take us to get to Leukos if we go around the sea?”

  “On horseback, about a month.”

  “A month?” Rhia put her hands in her hair, wanting to rip it out. “Anything could happen in that time.” She turned to Nathas. “Won’t someone be willing to break the embargo? A smuggler, maybe?”

  “Eventually, yes, once the enforcement slacks off. But right now, there are police all over the docks, warning of hefty fines and even imprisonment. In a few weeks some of the ship owners will be desperate enough for money that they’ll take a chance, but right now everyone’s lying low.”

  “We can’t wait for something that might not happen,” she said. “We’ll follow Filip over land.”

  “Follow Filip?” Lycas slammed his mug on the table. “Are you crazy? He’ll hand us over to the Ilions the moment we step across the border. We’ll fetch a fine price as slaves for his people.”

  Filip’s jaw tightened. “They’re not my people anymore.”

  “We’re not your people, either,” Lycas said. “You’ve made that clear, Descendant.”

  “Stop calling him that!” Alanka said.

  Filip put a hand on her shoulder and stood to face the Wolverine. “Lycas, you’re right,” he said. “I’ve done everything to distance myself from the people who have helped me the most. If we get near the border and you still don’t trust me, I’ll leave you.” He looked at Rhia, then the others in the living room. “In the meantime, I’ll teach you what you need to know about Ilios. How to read the signs, how to use the money. Whatever I can do.”

  “Whatever you can do to get us captured, you mean.” Lycas advanced on him. “You’re all treacherous to the bone.”

  “He’s not lying.” Nathas put a hand out to stop Lycas and focused a long, steady Owl gaze upon Filip. “He may have doubts about his decision, but his intentions are sincere.”

  “We’ll leave tomorrow.” Rhia gave her brother a defiant glare, then turned to Nathas. “The Asermons donated money for our crossing, but we’ll use it for horses instead. You’ll show us where we can find some?”

  The Owl smiled and gave a slight bow. “Not only that, but I’ve been told that Velekos will double what Asermos gave you, and throw in the horses, too. After all, you might be searching for the Raven boy.”

  “Maybe not.” Reni put a protective hand over her belly, then looked at Rhia. “In any case, it’s time we started acting like one people. I work at the currency exchange. I’ll get you the best rate for Ilion coin and waive my commission.”

  “Thank you,” Rhia said. The villages had never shown such generosity to each other’s people in her life.

  “You’re welcome.” Reni sat up in bed. “Now, let’s eat.”

  The rescuers and their new hosts shared a supper of fish and vegetables. Though the food was fresh, Rhia could eat no more than a few bites. She wondered where Marek dined tonight, if he watched over their son and if he would ever accept his captivity.

  She suspected not. Marek would sooner die than kneel to a Descendant, and that pride could get him killed.

  From his window in the slaves’ quarters, Marek stared across the skyline of Leukos. The sunrise glared pink over the white buildings, but his gaze fixed on the green. Basha—the woman who owned him—called it a park, a place set aside where Leukons could enjoy something they called nature. The trees, from what he could tell, were of five or six types, and they sat in tidy groups, like the crops in Asermos.

  It was artificial, but it was green, and it was all he had. His powers were fading, as if Wolf couldn’t find him in the midst of so much stone.

  As always, he heard Petrop’s footsteps approach his room, but this time the butler was nearly at the door before Marek’s ears caught the sound. He turned from the window.

  Petrop stopped at the threshold long enough to say, “Go to her,” before passing on.

  “And good morning to you, too,” Marek murmured.

  Two house guards flanked him the moment he exited the room. Before he reached the top of the stairs, he heard Nilik bawling. The guards led him down into the sitting room, the chamber where he had first met Basha.

  She sat on the divan with Nilik beside her. The child kicked his legs and squalled, ignoring the brightly colored rattle she dangled over his face. Marek stopped in the doorway and forced his fists to unclench.

  “Praise gods, you’re here.” Basha flapped her hands toward Nilik. “Make him stop.”

  Marek went to his son, circling around the sofa to approach him from the side opposite Basha. As he’d been ordered, he didn’t speak to her or even look at her. He picked up Nilik and held him against his shoulder, whispering and swaying in the rhythm the boy liked best.

  “What’s wrong with him?” she said. “The healer says he’s not sick. He’s feeding fine, and he doesn’t need changing.” Her voice pitched up. “I don’t understand. Why isn’t he happy?” When Marek didn’t reply, she added, “You may speak to me if you have an answer.”

  “Perhaps he misses his mother,” Marek whispered.

  “Wrong answer!” Basha stood and advanced on him. “I’m his mother now, and he’d better get used to it.”


  Nilik screamed at her approach, and Basha stopped. “Oh.” She pressed her palms to her temples. “I know it’s hard for him. I just want him not to hate me.”

  Marek spoke as softly as he could over Nilik’s howls. “He doesn’t hate you. He’s too young to hate.” He looked around at the cavernous room. “Everything is strange here.”

  “But it’s not!” She glided to a table and picked up a wooden carving of an eagle with outstretched wings. “My house is full of Asermon things. I love their art, so primitive and pure. So natural.” She stopped and stared at Marek, and he glanced away. “Hmm, I wish I hadn’t had them cut your hair. But it will grow back, long and wild.”

  Marek didn’t want to think about how many months that would take. He had trouble just getting through the day in this place. But his short hair didn’t feel wrong for the circumstance—he was in mourning, even though no one had died.

  Nilik’s wails softened, and Marek lowered him into the crook of his arm. The boy’s face was red and wrinkled from crying. He looked like a tired old man. Marek offered his finger to suck, and it was readily accepted.

  “That’s better.” Basha sighed, and picked the rattle off the sofa. “He doesn’t like this one. What does he like? You may speak.”

  He wanted to tell her Nilik was too young to like any toy, but knew she hated to be corrected. “He prefers sounds, actually. I could teach you some of his favorite songs.”

  She gasped. “I would love that. I’ll send for paper, and you can write down the words.” She motioned to one of the guards, who bowed and left the room.

  “I don’t write,” Marek said.

  “Can you read?”

  “No. My people don’t have the need.”

  “Well, you’ll have need here. I’ll teach you.”

  He gaped at her.

  “Don’t look so shocked,” she said. “I can’t have my people incapable of reading street signs and vendors’ placards. You’ll get lost or taken advantage of.”

  Marek’s thoughts raced. Someday she would let him leave the house, if he could earn her trust. Maybe then he’d find a way to escape.

  “Thank you,” he said, “Your Honor.”

  “We’ll start now.” She glided to a nearby table and pulled out a drawer. “I’ll show you how to write your name, which I seem to have forgotten.”

  “Marek.”

  From the drawer Basha withdrew a bottle of ink and a black feather. “It ends in a k, so you’re named in memory of someone. Who?”

  Marek stared at the feather, which reminded him of the fetish Rhia wore around her neck.

  “You may speak,” Basha said in a tight voice.

  He kept his gaze on the feather. “A great-aunt. Marca.”

  “And the child? Who is his namesake?”

  “My wife’s brother, Nilo.” Marek looked at Basha. “He was killed in the battle with the Des—With your people.”

  Her gaze dropped, and she stared at the contents of the drawer as if she’d forgotten why she had opened it. “My husband also.”

  Marek held back a false declaration of sympathy.

  “When they informed me,” she said, “I lost our child, still in the womb.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it.

  She approached him and gazed down at Nilik, who still sucked Marek’s finger. “I’ve changed his name to Demedor, after my husband. I need people to believe he’s mine.” She stroked the ends of her blond curl. “I do regret erasing the honor of his uncle, however.”

  Marek kept his eyes on the child. “I know what it’s like to lose two at once. My first mate died in childbirth and took our son with her.”

  She drew a finger along Nilik’s pink cheek. “But you found another,” she whispered. Then her lips twisted into a smile that chilled Marek’s blood. “As have I.”

  26

  Rhia and Damen stood at the end of the road leading out of Velekos while the others took a brief rest. Behind them, the village was waking to a new day, one much less profitable than those before it, due to the embargo. Ahead, tufted marsh grasses stretched to the flat horizon, their heads tilted rightward from the steady breeze off the water. To their left lay the rocky shores of Prasnos Bay. By midday they would reach the sea.

  “I wish I could come with you,” Damen said to Rhia.

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Maybe not.” He cast a glance at Nathas, who was helping Bolan load a cage with two Velekon pigeons onto the back of his pony. “It’ll be good to finally be together as a family.” Without looking at her, he said, “I hope I see you again, Rhia.”

  “Of course you will.” She forced cheer into her voice. “Marek and Nilik and I will stop by to meet your new baby on our way home to Asermos.”

  His thin lips tightened.

  “You don’t think we’ll find them,” she said.

  “I believe you have a fair chance.”

  “Then why do you wonder if you’ll see me again?”

  He stared out across the bay. “There are over two hundred Asermons and Kalindons in Leukos, maybe spread across the Ilion territories by now. Do you think you’ll be satisfied bringing home only two?”

  “If it means keeping Nilik out of harm’s way, then, yes, I’ll have to be satisfied.”

  “Rhia, we’re ready.” Alanka sat behind Filip on the bay mare.

  Rhia waved to her, then turned to Damen. “Send a message to Asermos letting them know we left.”

  “I’ll visit the Horse woman the moment we get back into town.”

  She hugged Damen tightly. “I’ll miss you.”

  “I miss you already,” he said. “Good luck.”

  Rhia let go of her Crow brother and drank in the sight of his lean face. Maybe it was the last time she’d ever see him.

  She mounted her pony, trying to remember the last time she’d ridden alone, without Marek sitting behind her. The horse’s back felt long, all to herself.

  They rode off into the wilderness, with no road to guide them, only the sun, the stars and the memory of a displaced Ilion.

  Filip kept the Atrean Sea in the corner of his left eye as he led the rescuers southwest along the coast. The blue sky ahead was filling with tall, bloated clouds that promised rain, if not the spring’s first thunderstorm, by the end of the afternoon.

  After a day on the tiny boat, then two days in Damen’s house preparing for the trip, the travelers needed plenty of space. They rode close enough to see each other but far enough out of earshot to avoid conversation.

  He relished the chance to spend time alone with Alanka. Her deep, even breath and slack arms around his waist told him she’d dozed off. It was probably the closest he would ever come to sleeping beside her.

  The salty wind scoured his face and tossed the horse’s mane in black waves over her neck. The mare’s hooves squished the soggy ground. Long, red-tufted marsh grasses brushed her flanks, causing her mud-brown hide to flinch and shudder as though she were besieged with flies.

  “This place smells strange,” the mare thought. “The grass itches, and my feet are sinking.”

  “The footing’s fine,” he murmured. “It’s not so different from Velekos.”

  “What?” Alanka’s arms tightened around his waist.

  “Talking to the horse.”

  “Oh.” She rested her forehead on the back of his neck and loosened her arms. As she drifted off again, they slid down to rest in his lap, inspiring a desire for something he couldn’t have. He took her hand off his thigh and held on to it.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Didn’t sleep well last night. Or the three hundred nights before that.”

  He cleared his throat. “If you want, I have another idea about how to help you.”

  She lifted her head. “With my magic?”

  “Yes. Remember on the boat when we spoke of purifying rituals? In my country, these rituals involve asking the forgiveness of those we’ve slain.”

  “How?”

  “First we go to the te
mple of Rovas, the god of war, and pay a tribute for each soldier we’ve killed. The priest gives us a receipt, which we take—”

  “A receipt? Like you get for buying eggs?”

  “Precisely.” He continued before she could laugh at the notion. “We take that to another temple, where a priest of Xenia, the death goddess, speaks to our fallen enemies on our behalf, asking forgiveness.”

  Alanka started and gasped. “Like a second-phase Crow.”

  “Yes.” He clucked his tongue to soothe the pony, who had pinned her ears back at Alanka’s sudden movement. “By reconciling with the dead, we find peace.”

  “Do the dead always forgive you?”

  “In my experience, yes. They have nothing to gain in the afterlife by holding a grudge.”

  She snorted. “My father gains nothing by holding on to part of me, but he still does.”

  “Perhaps that’s a different problem with a different solution.”

  “So Rhia says. Does your people’s ritual work?” Her voice quieted to a whisper as if she were afraid to utter the hope. “Afterward, you feel clean?”

  “Yes.” He stroked her palm with his thumb. “Pure.”

  “I can’t imagine.” She released a wistful sigh. “What about the nightmares and flashbacks? Will I stop seeing the faces of those men?”

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  “I’ll ask Rhia when we stop.”

  “You don’t want to ask her now?”

  She nuzzled his neck and looped her other arm tight around his waist. “No. I don’t want to ask her now.”

  He smiled and lifted her hand to his lips. Alanka seemed the last woman in the world who would find him appealing. His people had destroyed her family and her home. Their deaths plagued her mind, awake and asleep. He should have been a painful reminder of all she’d lost, of all the deeds that brought her shame, however misplaced. Yet she seemed drawn to him almost against her will.

  A dull chill slipped over Filip’s neck. Perhaps Alanka was with him not despite his being a wounded Descendant, but because of it. Maybe she was using him to assuage her guilt over the men she’d killed in battle. He dropped her hand.