Rebel Fay

by Barb Hendee

  He had changed tunics, and a white cotton bandage was wrapped on his forearm.

  Brot'an eyed Chap thoughtfully. "It is safe for us to speak… so long as your majay-hì does not sense any presence that would hear us."

  Leesil understood. Magiere's stolen memory hinted that the decrepit old elf had a way of moving about the forest without leaving his home. And Leesil remembered the strange way the majay-hì pack had acted just before Magiere lost control.

  Brot'an settled cross-legged on the floor. "Have you finished with my cloak, little one?"

  "What? Oh… yes." Wynn crawled to the chamber's far side and returned with Brot'an's heavy green-gray cloak. "Thank you."

  He nodded slightly and turned to Magiere. "Are you well?"

  "No," she answered.

  "What's going to happen?" Leesil asked, though he wished Sgäile had come instead.

  "In two days there will be a gathering," Brot'an began. "It has been a long time since a majority of the clan elders came at the same time. Word of your presence spread quickly, and they began traveling here once they heard. There is concern that Most Aged Father took it upon himself to give humans safe passage. This has never happened in anyone's memory. Some believe he overstepped his position. No one outside of certain Anmaglâhk have even seen Most Aged Father in nearly fifty seasons."

  "Fifty seasons?" Leesil repeated. "How is that possible?"

  Brot'an paused, as if deciding how to answer. "Most Aged Father is revered as the protector of our people, and his word weights heavily with many of our leaders. But the Anmaglâhk are not a clan, and therefore Most Aged Father is not a representative of the people—he is not a clan elder. At most gatherings of the elders, he has had no reason to be present. But he will be there this time.

  "He might have appeared to defend his decision in giving you safe passage, or he could have sent Fréthfâre in his place. That issue will no longer be the primary concern of the council. He is now Magiere's accuser, and a judgment must be made. He must make his claim against Magiere before the council or withdraw it entirely."

  "You want them to see him, don't you?" Magiere asked.

  "I wish for them to hear him," Brot'an said. "His mind… is not what it once was. It may work in your favor to bring his judgment into question, but in turn may show he was not of sound mind in letting humans into our land."

  Leesil sat up straight. "You planned this… to use that old elf's accusation against Magiere as a way to alert your people?"

  Brot'an shook his head. "No, I never foresaw this. Though I knew your presence would raise issues to be addressed. That is now of little advantage."

  "What do you mean by that?" Leesil demanded.

  "Magiere has a choice to make," Brot'an answered, ignoring Leesil entirely as he gazed only at her. "Most Aged Father will likely choose Fréthfâre as his advocate. You must choose your own for the coming proceedings."

  "Wynn can do it," Leesil answered. "She's a scholar, speaks fluent Elvish, and she knows Magiere."

  "Leesil, I…" Wynn stammered. "I am not certain I could—"

  "That is not permitted," Brot'an interrupted calmly. "As a human, her presence is still in question—and she is not an'Cróan."

  Leesil flushed with rising anger. "You're saying she has to choose one of you… an elf? As if there's even one of you we could trust to—"

  "You do it," Magiere said. "I choose you, Brot'an, for advocate… if you're willing."

  "No!" Leesil snapped.

  "It is not your decision!" Brot'an barked at him. "Only the accused can choose, unless of unsound mind."

  "Then she's unsound," Leesil countered. "She's a raving madwoman! What happened in Nein'as glade is enough to prove that. And I choose Sgäile!"

  "Leesil, stop this!" Wynn shouted at him.

  "That is not how mental fitness is determined," Brot'an said. "And you are suspect as much as your companions. Your involvement in any capacity would draw further suspicion and work against her."

  Chap stalked over to Magiere. He sat down before her and cast a narrow-eyed sneer at Bro'tan, then lifted his snout to Magiere and barked once ror yes.

  Magiere put her hand on Chap's neck.

  "Can you clear me?" she asked Brot'an.

  "I accept your selection as advocate," Brot'an replied. "I will serve your interests to my fullest ability. I know you are innocent… of the claim made against you."

  Magiere fell silent, as did Wynn, but Leesil was about to explode.

  Brot'an turned on him in harsh voice. "There is more at stake here than Magiere's survival… There is your mother's freedom."

  Leesil tensed. "You'd better start making sense."

  "Most Aged Father is the one who imprisoned Cuirin'nên'a, though it was never argued before the council."

  "She was never given a trial?" Wynn asked.

  "The clans accepted this," Brot'an replied, "as it was a matter internal to the Anmaglâhk. The elders respect that we serve to protect the people, and anyone accused of undermining our efforts puts all of them at risk. As I have said, Most Aged Father's word carries much influence."

  "They don't even know what she did," Leesil said. "They just took his word that she was a traitor."

  "The elders still believe him competent," Brot'an added. "More than competent—the wisest of us all, and the eldest of our people. In placing ourselves in service, the Anmaglâhk not only answer to the laws of the people but also to the rule of our caste. We have one leader—Most Aged Father. If he is seen as having faltered in one judgment, then the elders may find reason to examine other decisions he has made. That bears directly upon Cuir-in'nen'a's freedom."

  Brot'an waited for further argument. When none came, he turned again to Magiere.

  "Trust me."

  Chap barked once.

  "Yes," Magiere whispered.

  As Chap watched Brot'an leave, he second-guessed his own advice.

  In spite of everything Brot'an said, his flickering memories never once strayed to Magiere—only to Leesil, Nein'a, or Eillean. Chap even caught words spoken when Eillean had given him as a pup to Nein'a.

  Leesil was Brot'an's true interest, not Magiere.

  Still, Chap believed that Brot'an might well succeed. Exposing Most Aged Father's reasoning as questionable could dismiss his claim against Magiere, and his judgment of Nein'a as well. And Chap saw no way to accomplish either of these feats himself.

  Magiere still sat shaking upon the bed ledge. He nosed her hand until she ran it across the side of his face.

  "I wish you could talk… for yourself," she whispered. "I would have chosen you instead of Brot'an."

  Chap desperately wished the same.

  Leesil took up one bowl and wooden spoon and brought them to Magiere.

  "Try," he said. "Not just for pretense… perhaps eating something might dull whatever you're suffering."

  Chap agreed in sentiment. The meat smelled savory, but for once, he wasn't hungry either. Instinct and not intellect nagged him with strange notions. Somewhere in the forest beyond Crijheäiche, his Lily ran with the pack.

  Chapter Seventeen

  W ynn heard footsteps approach outside the elm.

  Sgäile leaned in around the doorway curtain. "It is time." Wynn was partially relieved. Trapped inside with Magiere and Leesil for two solid days had been trying. With little to occupy them, the days crawled by, broken only by meals, Brot'an's infrequent visits, and Leesil's incessant sniping at the tall anmaglâhk.

  Sgäile glanced at Magiere's attire but said nothing.

  Over the previous days, Brot'an had decided upon her appearance for the hearing. Magiere argued, of course, but he won in the end, and Wynn privately agreed with Brot'an's suggestions. Appearances meant much to elves, but Magiere was still grumbling moments before Sgäile arrived. She now wore a clean, light tan elven tunic with a square-cut neck and breeches to match.

  Wynn had braided Magiere's hair so that not a strand would fly free, and she looked like a simple h
uman woman. Far less dangerous in appearance, but there was nothing to be done about her pale skin and blood-tinged black hair.

  Leesil changed into his oversized muslin shirt—complete with stitched rents—chocolate-brown breeches, and his own boots. He still looked a bit ragged with his hair hanging free about his shoulders. Chap was the only one who caused no grief, sitting quietly for once as Wynn brushed out his fur.

  But all of their busy preparations could not dispel Wynn's fear. If Magiere was found guilty, she would be executed, and there was nothing any of them could do to stop it.

  Wynn closed her eyes for a moment, trying to push such thoughts away. But she failed, and her mind wandered in directions more morbid. How might the elves decide to kill Magiere? If they believed her undead, beheading or fire were the only options… and Sgäile had once expressed revulsion at the prospect of dismembering the dead.

  Wynn opened her eyes and steadied herself. No, it would not come to that. They still had Brot'an.

  He had explained only the barest bits of the coming proceedings. Most Aged Father had made a claim concerning Magiere's true nature. Until this was settled, there would be no direct trial before the elders. Instead, the claim must first be substantiated as a dispute between opposing parties. Wynn grasped only scant nuances, and Chap had been no help. Instead he had filled her head with questions that Brot'an never answered.

  "Where is Brot'an?" she asked, for he had not returned this day to escort Magiere.

  Sgäile ignored her. "It is time. Come."

  Leesil headed out, and Wynn fell in behind Magiere and Chap.

  Osha was among the Anmaglâhk escort waiting outside. His face filled with concern as he met Wynn's eyes. Sgäile led the way, his guards flanking and following. Chap trotted along outside their retinue.

  Wynn did not see Lily or any other majay-hì. She stayed close behind Magiere as they headed inland through Crijheäiche. She had no idea where they headed, but in her mind, she pictured some mammoth oak nurtured by elven Shapers into a council hall.

  Cultivated trees and brush passed by in a blur until they came to an open area and were herded between two wide oaks where many elves waited. They had reached the gathering of the elders, but there was no council hall, and the number of those gathered was greater than she had guessed.

  Ancient oaks surrounded a long and gently sunken clearing covered by a lawn. Lower branches were as thick as a normal tree's trunk and grew together in bridges from one tree to the next.

  Onlookers, dressed in varied attire, sat or stood upon those bridge-branches and gathered in masses between the wide trunks. Those closest turned their eyes on the newcomers, the interlopers, the humans in their midst.

  One elderly woman with filmy eyes sat in a wood chair of tawny grain. All of the chair's flowing curves, from its head-high back to its armrests and legs, were made from a single piece, like the rain barrels of Gleann's home. The woman wore a maroon cloak of raw-spun cotton over a matching robe, and she held a rolled parchment on a walnut spindle in her lap. Two younger men in similar cloaks stood at her sides, and others close by shared aspects of their attire.

  Their glances were more studied than others, though Wynn did not find that a relief as she stepped by them. She was gripped by an impulse to grab Magiere's hand and offer comfort, but knew she should not.

  Among the crowd gathered around every inch of the clearing, many were elaborately dressed. Wynn saw hair ornaments of wood rings for tails, circlets garnished with wildflowers, sparing jewelry of polished wood and stone, and a few crystals or gems that sparked in the bright sun. Few sported metal accoutrements of any kind, although one cluster of elves wore strangely shaped broaches of copper and brass. Everywhere Wynn looked, large amber eyes watched her from within dour caramel and triangular faces.

  Partway around the clearing's far side was a cluster of short figures crouched upon the grass—the Äruin'nas. Shirtless, exposing their elaborate body paintings, and with their hair shaped into spirals and curls by dried mud, two of their elders sat cross-legged on the depression's lip. Wynn squinted, trying to make out the blue-black markings on their skin. Something about those symbols reminded her of the sigils and diagrams of thau-maturgy and conjury she had seen in the guild's library in Malourné.

  Clan elders were not difficult to pick out, due to their age. Each was accompanied by attendants, though many had larger retinues.

  Then she caught the yellow and russet of the Coilehkrotall, Sgäile and Leanâlhâm's clan, but she did not see an elder sitting before them.

  Chap crept in beside Wynn, and there was more than one curious glance over his presence. She dropped a hand on his back, curling her fingers in his thick fur.

  At either end of the clearing's floor were oval oak tables. Brot'an stood behind the nearer one, sifting through scrolls among leather-bound sheaves of paper. He looked up, his expression passive but for those severe-looking scars skipping over one eye.

  Sgäile led the way downslope, and Wynn lost all self-confidence. She stepped out into full sight of the council of the an'Cróan.

  "Well met," Brot'an said.

  He looked solid and distinguished in his green-gray, though he wore no cloak. Without it, his shoulders seemed too broad for his tall frame. A forest-green ribbon held back his silver-streaked hair. Sgäile and his guards retreated to the slope's base.

  "What are we waiting for?" Wynn whispered.

  "Most Aged Father," Brot'an answered. "It should be a quietly dramatic entrance."

  Wynn raised one eyebrow. Was that sarcasm?

  "Who's the prosecutor?" Magiere asked in a low voice.

  "The council has not chosen one," he answered, "as the claim against you must be settled first. Fréthfâre is 'advocate' for your accuser. Sgailsheilleache serves as 'adjudicator' of proceedings."

  Leesil sighed.

  From the depression's upper edge and bridge-branched trees, a swarm of amber eyes looked down upon Magiere—and Leesil. Those behind Brot'an's table were close enough for Wynn to see their curiosity, anger, and baleful fascination. The elder elven woman and her companions displayed only cold interest.

  As a child, Wynn had attended a livestock fair with Domin Tilswith. A calf born with three legs was on display at a center stall. Everyone stopped to stare and point. Wynn felt like that calf, though she guessed Magiere suffered far worse.

  Caramel faces among the crowded turned, one by one, and then more. Wynn followed the wave of shifting focus.

  Fréth came down the far slope, dressed the same as Brot'an, with her hair pulled back. Four Anmaglâhk followed behind her, bearing the ends of wooden bars over their shoulders.

  Between the bearers, Most Aged Father sat upon an ornate chair with rounded sides that cradled his frail body. He was wrapped in a blanket or long shawl of the gray-green, the color of his Anmaglâhk. Whispering murmurs filled the clearing at his entrance.

  Most Aged Father's face was overshadowed by a fold of his wrap, but Wynn thought he squinted against the bright sun. His emaciated features and pale skin were worse to look upon than in his root chamber's dim candlelight. The bearers settled him beside Fréth's table, and he turned his head slowly, examining the crowd.

  Sgäile stepped to the clearing's center and lifted his face to the gathering, calling out in clear Elvish, "I welcome the people and their clans, as represented by their elders, to hear the claim in dispute."

  Not a breath passed before Fréthfâre's voice rose. "Brot'an'duivé, you are already in breach of our ways. Only the accused may stand at your side. The others will be removed immediately."

  Brot'an stepped around his table past Magiere. For all his calm ways, his voice thundered across the clearing.

  "Léshil is involved by implication and has a right to be present. And I choose the one called Wynn"—he pointed to her for all to take note—"to serve as Magiere's translator."

  All eyes turned to Wynn, and she shrank from them, stepping halfway behind Leesil.

  "The
accused has the right to hear all that is said," Brot'an continued, "as it is said and not thereafter. I will not allow the accuser's advocate to complicate matters by requiring me to be Magiere's translator as well as her advocate! That would be a breach of courtesy… if not law."

  Sgäile cut off Fréth's retort with a hand raised toward Brot'an.

  "The accused's advocate is within custom and law. The advocate for the accuser"—and he turned toward Fréthfâre—"has no further grounds for this challenge."

  Fréthfâre scowled and went to crouch beside Most Aged Father.

  Wynn quickly translated all that was said for Magiere and Leesil, though a few nuances of dialect frustrated her. The night before, Brot'an had advised them that proceedings were conducted in Elvish, the proper language, and few clan leaders spoke any other tongue. He told them little else, claiming there was no time to understand more. Too much preparation might work against Magiere, if Fréthfâre tried to trip her up amid rehearsed responses.

  Wynn was uncertain how much of this was just Brot'an's own scheming. Undoubtedly he risked alienating Most Aged Father and his own caste in standing as Magiere's advocate.

  Brot'an stepped further into the clearing. "I thank the council for being present to render judgment, but I fear your time is not well spent."

  Fréthfâre stood up. Both she and Most Aged Father turned rapt attention on Brot'an as he gestured toward Magiere,

  "Most Aged Father gave this woman and her companions safe passage and sent Sgäilsheilleache under oath of guardianship to escort them to Crij-heâiche. Now, her own host claims that she is one of the humans' undead—something unnatural, returned from beyond death to this world. A human without a guide would have succumbed to the forest, left to wander until captured or dead. An undead could not have entered at all, as none have ever been seen in our land. Yet she walked among us for many days and in the company of a majay-hì. The claim of the accuser is shown false by Magiere's very presence."

  Wynn hurried her translation, but as Brot'an paused, her gaze slipped to Most Aged Father. She unconsciously shifted back half a step at the steady hatred upon his face. The ancient elf appeared about to erupt, but Brot'an resumed in a forceful voice.