Owlknight v(dt-3

by Mercedes Lackey

  Keisha didn’t need to be an Empath to know that those simple words concealed fear and horror that Dar still felt, even now. Keisha could not imagine being in her shoes at that moment - utterly alone, thrown onto the side of an unknown mountain by an unknown power, her husband wounded, perhaps mortally -

  She shuddered, then smiled wanly, and shook off the emotions her recollection called up.

  “Thanks be to the gods, all our camping gear came with us as well - well, except for the corner of the tent that had gone along with his foot; I bound up the stump and dosed him with poppy. We had food enough for a while, so I nursed him while I studied where we were.” Daralie smiled thinly. “The most I could say was that I didn’t know. I put out trap-lines for small animals, and caught things that are like short-eared rabbits that live among the rocks, and built up our campsite into a small stone hut walled over with snow blocks - I had no idea how long we would be there, and I wanted to be ready for the worst blizzards. As it happens, we weren’t there for very long, and the blizzards aren’t bad as far down on the mountain as we were.” More of that years-old fear drained from her, and she smiled. “You might not believe it, but down here in the valleys the winter isn’t harsh at all; it seldom snows. And when snow does come, it doesn’t linger.”

  “I have trouble believing that, indeed, given how chilly it is at the moment,” Darian replied, “But if you say it is so, I will try to believe anything you tell me.”

  That brought a smile to his mother’s face, and she continued. “I don’t know what we would have done if we had been left on our own, but some of the hunters from Raven found us. They brought us here, and although we didn’t know it, we were intended to become someone’s slaves - but one of the Changed creatures attacked the camp first. By then, thanks to the Wisewoman, Kullen was up and about, and when the hunters couldn’t get near enough to the creature to kill it, we showed them how to build a pit-trap to take it. Would you believe it? They didn’t know anything but the simplest of snares!” She shook her head at the idea. “Well, that ended any talk of making us slaves, or so I’m told. We helped them trap any number of wretched Change-Creatures, clearing out the valley, and they adopted us into the tribe and made us their Chief Hunters. There isn’t much more to tell,” she concluded. “We taught them how to trap, and they taught us their ways. When we realized that we were right off the map, we gave up the notion of getting home. I knew that the people of Errold’s Grove would see you were taken care of.”

  Keisha was glad that Darian had not mentioned the way he’d been treated by the Errold’s Grove villagers now, and she suspected he felt the same. Why cause Daralie any more distress? What was in the past could not be changed, and if things had not happened the way they had, he might not be talking to her now.

  “I never gave up hoping that one day we’d get some word back to you, though,” she finished, looking up into his face with eyes that were the aged mirror-image of his. “That was why I kept sending the vests out. There was always that possibility that one day, someone in Valdemar would see one, would recognize the pattern, and ask about where it came from.”

  “And that was brilliant, Mother,” he replied, kissing the hand that he held. “Of all the things in the world that are likely to travel, it is trade goods that travel the farthest.”

  She blushed with pleasure at his praise, and spread her hands wide. “Well, we learned to live here, we came to love it, we prospered, the children came along - that is the sum of it. Here we do not count the passing of time by the day, but by the season, for the days are very like one another.”

  Darian was saved from having to reply to that by the appearance of a fast-moving party of happily shouting tribesmen, with a limping man - Kullen, no doubt - and a boy in the middle. Darian shot to his feet, shouting “Father!” and reprised the running greeting he had given his mother, while Keisha stayed prudently behind.

  Rather than joining her sons and husband, Daralie cast a speculative glance at Keisha. “Keisha Alder - your people are the Alders that lived south and east of the village?” she asked. “The ones with all the boys?”

  Keisha nodded, and Daralie looked her over carefully. “A Healer and a Herald out of the same family - your mother must be very pleased and proud.”

  “My mother is appalled and shocked,” Keisha retorted wryly. “Having her precious girl-babies turn out to be independent women with minds and vocations of their own was not what she had in mind. Husbands, spotless cottages, and grandbabies would have been more to her liking.”

  To her pleasure, Daralie laughed out loud. “Good for you, Keisha Alder!” she applauded warmly. “Be sure you keep that mind of your own! Any man worth spending time with will value intelligence over a spotless cottage and a milk-meek maiden, however pretty she is.”

  By the warm glance she aimed at her own husband, there was no doubt in Keisha’s mind what Kullen’s preferences were. Daralie was by no means a milk-meek maiden.

  This is the woman that raised Darian - came an unbidden voice in the back of her mind. So, what was all that nonsense you were worrying about? Something about Darian really wanting a honey-sweet maiden in his heart of hearts, and not being satisfied with you?

  But now the man and boy were approaching, with Darian between them, an arm around each shoulder. When Keisha got a good look at the boy, she was struck by how very like Darian he was.

  Daralie followed her look, and smiled fondly. “He could be Darian at the same age,” she said softly.

  “Kavin could not be more like his brother if they were twins separated in time.”

  But this little boy will never have his mother and father wrenched away from him, if fortune smiles, Keisha thought, watching how the child looked up at his father with undisguised adoration that spoke well for the man’s parental skills.

  Kullen Firkin limped heavily, and Keisha’s eyes went to the place at the end of his leg where a wooden form poked out of the bottom of his trews where his foot should have been. It wasn’t foot-shaped, but it wasn’t the peg she’d expected; it seemed to be the narrow end of a fat cone, which was interesting. I should try that shape with a patient some time. . . .

  Where Daralie Firkin was small and slim (despite bearing five children), with soft, dark eyes and dark hair going to silver, Kullen Firkin was fair going to gray, with hazel eyes and a tough, wiry frame. The children, except for Darian, took after their mother rather than their father - but neither parent looked at all like the Errold’s Grove “norm,” which was to be brown-eyed, brown-haired, and stocky - muscular in the males, plump in the females. Small wonder that Darian had stuck out as the odd one.

  Kullen was in tears, making no effort to hide them, and Darian’s eyes were wet again. Keisha almost decided to absent herself from the reunion, but the glance that Darian cast at her said so clearly, “please stay,” that she changed her mind.

  The entire family, including Keisha, retired to the log house, where Darian again told an edited version of his experiences of the past years. During the recitation, several women brought in all of the components of a good dinner - fish baked in clay, roasted onions and cattail roots, a piece of honeycomb and some of the flatbread they’d sampled at Snow Fox.

  Daralie thanked them sincerely. “We saw your dinner go flying - and one of the dogs got it,” said the oldest of the women with a wide grin. “It was no great matter to add food to our fire. You certainly have done it often enough for the rest of us!”

  The fish was a new dish to Keisha, but it was something she thought she could get used to pretty easily. It had been rubbed with herbs inside and out, stuffed with onions, then folded into an envelope of wet clay, the whole buried in coals and ashes. Keisha had never tasted anything like it.

  She felt very much the interloper in this family circle, but there was one thing that she could not help but notice. Daralie was no stay-at-home wife, no matter what she had been doing today when they arrived. It was clear from the conversation that Daralie and Kelsie woul
d be minding the same fish traps tomorrow that Kullen and Kavin had tended today.

  It was also evident that this was the ordinary state of things for them - and Kelsie and Kavin were given equal chores and responsibilities based on strength, size, and ability, not on sex. Tomorrow, in fact, Kavin would be helping his father cook, as well as doing some repairs to the log house.

  During a break in the family conversation, when Kullen asked Darian some detailed questions about the fighting with Blood Bear, Keisha decided to be bold and ask Daralie a few questions of her own.

  “How did the Raven people come to accept you?” she asked. “You aren’t a Man-souled woman, you’ve got a husband and a family, but you act like one.”

  Daralie laughed softly. “Well, they didn’t have a choice at first,” she pointed out. “Kullen was in no shape to help them; I was the one with the trapping knowledge and the two strong legs to take me out into the wilderness. They had to accept me, but I can tell you they didn’t like it! It was a bit of a struggle; they did what I told them, but I got no respect in the village. And when Kullen was able to walk about again, they stopped listening to me at all!”

  “So what happened?” Keisha asked.

  “I don’t know.” Daralie shrugged. “The men had one of their ceremonies, and something happened there that changed them entirely in their attitude toward me. But they won’t tell the women what it was - and I don’t care, so long as they don’t treat me like a nonentity anymore.”

  I wonder if the Raven intervened? That was the only thing Keisha could think of, and by the shrewd glance Daralie threw at her, she figured the older woman had come to the same conclusion. But of course, she didn’t know Keisha, she didn’t know how much exposure Keisha had to the totemic spirits and the beliefs of the Northerners. The average Valdemaran would not expect to find spirits intervening so directly in the lives of mortals, and might even greet such a revelation with thinly disguised disbelief.

  “So - I take it that you and my son are - partners, after the Hawkbrother fashion?” Daralie then said, her glance sharpening. And before Keisha could answer, she added, “Do you intend to wed?”

  Keisha felt the blood rush into her face, and she averted her eyes. “We had discussed it - but we didn’t make any plans. And then, well, looking for you was more important.”

  “You would probably do all right living here with Raven,” Daralie replied, nodding knowledgeably. “You are a Wisewoman after all. You won’t have to fight for respect. They’ll give it to you without asking, and they won’t expect you to act like their own women; they already have a category you fit into.” That confused Keisha. “Why would I want to live here?” she asked, her brows knitting. “I’m a Valdemaran Healer - ”

  “Because Darian will be here, of course.” Daralie looked over at her son with undisguised satisfaction. “Now that he’s found his family again, he’ll want to stay - and besides, Raven needs him. He’s exactly what we need.”

  “What - what you need?” Keisha repeated, feeling uncommonly dense. “What do you mean by that?” The glance Daralie gave her made her think that Darian’s mother must feel the same. “We need his talents and training,” she said, with a touch of impatience. “He’s a mage. We need a mage. The Raven Shaman has only Healing magic, and our warriors are no match for Wolverine. Now that Darian is here with us, you can all help us destroy Wolverine for good.”

  Keisha had a queasy feeling, and her food had nothing to do with it. Here with us? Our warriors? Help us? I don’t know how Darian is going to take this, but - like it or not, his parents are Ravens now!

  Nineteen

  The others had gotten wind of Daralie’s assumptions long before dinner was over, and it wasn’t long after Dar and Kullen excused themselves to put the children to bed that the entire group descended on Darian and Keisha and pulled them off to “discuss things.” They had their own campfire, far enough away from the Men’s or Women’s Fires that they were well out of earshot. They settled down around it, and Keisha knew what Shandi would say long before she said it. One look at her face while Darian put Raven’s case forward with all of his persuasive power told Keisha that he would never be persuasive enough.

  “No,” Shandi said flatly, the moment he finished speaking. “Absolutely no. We are not going to get involved here. These are not our people, this is not our problem, and your parents can claim protection as citizens of Valdemar all they want - my answer to that is that they can pack up and come back with us.”

  Shandi’s eyes told the story; nothing was going to change her mind. The girl who had seemed so sweet and gentle was gone, and in her place stood a young woman who was gentle only when she felt she could afford to be. She must feel this occasion called for her to be hard and strong. Shandi was not going to budge; she wasn’t even going to compromise.

  But Darian wasn’t going to give up either. Not yet, anyway. “Shandi, they may not be our people, but this is our problem, or rather, it will be. How long do you think it will be before Wolverine eats up every little tribe north of the border and starts to contemplate taking us? I wouldn’t give it five years - and maybe less. They’ve already taken everything Blood Bear had and more, and it’s only because they’ve been going slowly and consolidating their conquests that they haven’t come after us.”

  “So now you’re ForeSighted as well as a mage?” Shandi retorted, with no hint that she meant it humorously. “It seems to me that Wolverine is far more likely to stay up here in the north when they’ve taken in all the tribes. Why should they come south, when every conquering army that’s gone to Valdemar has come back in pieces, if at all?”

  “Because in the south are riches,” Hywel put in solemnly. “In the south are herds of cattle and sheep, horses, grain and fruit for the taking. There are women with golden hair and red, with skin like snow and slim bodies, to become slaves. There are spineless dirt-digging men to be made into slaves to grow crops so that the warriors need never soil their honor with the cultivation of plants. There is gold, silver, gemstones. There is woven cloth, such as the traders bring, for slaves to make into brilliant tunics, warmer and softer than leather. And there are Healers who can cure all ills. That is why they will come.”

  “They can trade all that for fur and amber, and not have to fight,” Shandi retorted. “They know what will happen if they bring an army into Valdemar. If Blood Bear was thwarted by a single village, what chance would they have against the army of Valdemar? We need only fortify the border; we do not have to stop them ourselves.”

  Darian’s whole body telegraphed his distress to Keisha, but she was torn herself. Shandi was right; now was not the time or place to confront Wolverine, regardless of what would happen to Raven if they didn’t. After all, Raven could conceivably leave as a whole, and seek sanctuary with Ghost Cat if they didn’t want to fight or ally with Wolverine. They could join with Snow Fox and Red Fox; the three tribes united might well have enough force to hold Wolverine off. Confrontation was not their only option.

  But part of her agreed with Darian; wouldn’t it be better to take care of the problem now, before Wolverine became an unstoppable force? Valdemar had faced a Northern tribes enemy before - wasn’t that why the Forest of Sorrows had been called a “defensive border?”

  So she stayed silent, dropping her eyes when both Shandi and Darian looked at her for support. I can’t support either of them, she thought helplessly. They’re both right, and I don’t know which of them is more right.

  From under her lashes she watched as Darian looked beseechingly at Wintersky and Kel instead, when he could not get backing from her.

  Kel, at least, had no hesitation. “Darrrian isss rrright!” he hissed, his eyes narrowed as he glanced at Shandi. “You sssaw what they did to Rrred Fox!” His hackles came up and he snapped his beak for emphasis. “You sssaw with yourrrr own eyesss! How can you sssit therrre and sssay that we ssshould do nothing?”

  “I think that what happened to Red Fox was a tragedy, but it’s not o
ur tragedy,” Shandi insisted. “There are likely things like that happening in the Eastern Empire - or what’s left of it - at this very moment, and it’s very sad, but we can’t do anything about it. Life isn’t fair, Kel, and it’s not our job to make it so.”

  “Sssketi!” Kel spat, clearly disgusted with Shandi and Karles together, since it was obvious from the way that they had drawn together that Shandi spoke for both of them. “You call yourrrssself a Herald, and sssay that? That isss cowarrrd’sss talk! If no one trrriesss to make the worrrld fairrr, then it neverrrr will be, will it? Ssso you will alwaysss have that to fall back upon! I do not think that the firrrssst Herr-raldsss in Valdemarrr made sssuch excusssesss!”

  Keisha noticed that Shandi flinched a little at that, but she did not back down. Now she looked at Wintersky and Steelmind, seeking supporters of her own. Steelmind licked his lips and sighed. “I can see both sides,” he said reluctantly. “I can’t see that one outweighs the other.”

  Relieved that he had put into words what she felt, Keisha looked up and nodded eagerly. “Exactly,” she said. “Both of you are right.”

  “That’s my feeling,” Wintersky told them. “You know, none of us have ForeSight, so how can we know for sure what’s likely to happen? And - Darian, just what are we supposed to do; there’s only the nine of us - sixteen, if you count the dyheli. How big a difference can nine creatures make?”