The Cry of the Marwing

by Unknown

  ‘Do you think he will come after her?’

  ‘I’m sure of it. He’s not a man to give up something he’s once possessed, and he certainly won’t allow another man to take something he owns.’

  Kest straightened in his seat. ‘Are you saying there’s a risk to the Lord Caledon if the northern Leader comes south?’

  ‘Most certainly. For that reason I intend to dissuade the Lord Caledon from carrying his sword. Unless you’re Protecting, it’s against our laws in any case. But I’m less concerned with Tremen sensitivities than I am with murder.’

  Kest stared at him in alarm and Tresen smiled. ‘The northern Feailner obeys northern notions of honour, Protector Commander, and wouldn’t kill an unarmed man. But he could certainly kill an armed one.’

  ‘Maybe the Lord Caledon will kill him,’ said Kest tersely.

  ‘The Feailner’s the other half of Kira. If she’s the distillation of Kasheron’s gentle healing, then he’s the essence of Terak’s brutal killing. I’ve not seen him fight but I’ve heard tell of it.’

  ‘I don’t understand why she would bond with him then,’ muttered Kest, rising and slinging his pack over his shoulder.

  ‘That’s because you’ve never been in love, Protector Commander,’ said Tresen, escorting him to the door.

  ‘Since when did you become an expert on love, as well as herbal practices, Healer Tresen?’

  ‘Since I met my bondmate, Protector Commander. Now I know all,’ he added with a smile.

  Kira left the Bough before dawn, slipping away across the Arborean, and enjoying the wash of dewy air against her face. The tock of a bark beetle caught her ear, and a leafmouse rustling in the bushes, but no owls gave voice, and the tippets and springle slips still slumbered.

  Above the meshed branches of fallowoods and castellas, a sliver of new moon glinted, and Kira calculated quickly. She had a bare nine days to spend with Miken and Tenerini, if she were to reach the Shargh lands before the moon was full. And there were many things to be done before then. Herbs must be gathered, and she must face the Clancouncil. Kira dreaded the thought of misleading the taciturn Sherclan leader Dakresh, but the idea of deceiving Kemrick, the kindly leader of Tarclan, was worse.

  Somehow she must resign the leadership and give the impression that she was going to Talliel with Caledon, without lying outright. But lying was lying, whether it was blatant, or woven about with clever words. Maybe the renunciation would just be a matter of uttering a few phrases and giving back the ring. Kira faltered and her lungs emptied of air. The ring was still in the north! Kira could well imagine Dakresh’s reaction. Well, there was nothing she could do about it. The council would have to request it from the northern Leader when he came south one day to see his sister. It would be well after her time, in any case.

  At least she’d be able to visit her family and observe the grieving rituals before she left. They were fortunate in that they lived on in the green and growing, their voices woken by every small breeze, unlike the Tremen volunteers whose charred bones now bleached under the plain’s shelterless sky. But even the volunteers had received more honour than she would, their pyres lit by a friend’s hand and heartfelt words said to mark their passing.

  The sun rose and as the joyous song of springleslips rang out, her plan to go to the Shargh began to seem like the product of a mind touched by too many journeys into death. But then she remembered Laryia’s curved belly, and her resolve hardened again. Tresen’s child was safe now, but for how long?

  As she walked, Kira began searching about for the herbs likely to cure the Shargh’s sickness. She would also pack everest, knowing that a single leaf was potent enough to give a sleep without awakening. It was a coward’s death, perhaps, but if worst came to worst, it was a kindness she’d grant herself.

  The scattered sunlight was ripe before she smelled espin smoke and the silvered walls of the Kashclan longhouse became visible through the trees. Kira stopped and looked at it, wanting to imprint her memory with all her happy times there. Children shouted somewhere to her left as they rushed through the shelter-bushes, playing as she and Kandor and Tresen had. And the old castella still hung over the southern end of the building, making an easy climb onto the roof, but not down again. She recalled Miken rescuing her on one occasion, and Brem’s scolding as a game of nut-throwing accidentally found his open window.

  Kira went up the path and knocked on the door, the drift of conversation from the hall mixing with the smell of new-baked nutbread. By an odd chance, it was Brem who opened the door, more grizzled than Kira remembered, his mouth an open hole of astonishment. Then he hugged her, bowed, laughed and hugged her again. Kira was quickly enveloped by clan-kin planting kisses on her cheeks, bowing, hugging her, welcoming her with formal and informal words, cheering and crying. Her movement from the doorstep into the hall was excruciatingly slow, and her throat chokingly tight.

  Finally, those surrounding her drew back to reveal Tenerini and Miken. Kira stumbled forward and Tenerini embraced her, and then she was enclosed in Miken’s arms.

  ‘Welcome home, dear one,’ he said softly, and she burst into tears.

  45

  When Miken left his longhouse early the next morning, he knew he had two or three long days ahead. He intended to go to the Bough first, to talk to his son and bond-daughter, and to the Lord Caledon if he were there; then he’d go to the Warens to see Kest.

  Kira had spent the night before in Miken and Tenerini’s rooms, speaking of her time away and of all that had happened, and now she still slept, snug in Tresen’s old bed. Miken knew of her journey across the Dendora, her meeting with the Lord Caledon and her time with the Tain; of being taken by the Shargh, and being rescued by the Terak; of the northern city of stone, of Kessom, and of the journey south again to meet with the Tremen volunteers; of her desperate healing back in the north, and of the fight by so many to save the terribly wounded Tresen.

  But hidden in her tale, made more poignant by the brevity of its telling, was her broken bond with the northern Leader.

  He never wanted to bond, she’d said. It was I who suggested it. It was my mistake.

  And so she’d come back, to the overwhelming joy and relief of the Tremen. She was safe and they were content; life could go on as before.

  Except that Miken knew it couldn’t. He’d watched Kira as she’d spoken, and sometimes he felt as though he were younger than she, for Kira had walked in many lands and he’d never left the trees. But those lands had been filled with a dying and death worse than the Allogrenia Kira had fled. There had been only a single brief interlude of happiness with the northern Leader, and then that too had ended.

  Miken found his bond-daughter alone in the Bough. The Lord Caledon was keeping Tresen company out gathering, she told him, but they were expected back shortly. Miken loved Laryia, not just because she made his son happy, but because she was true-hearted. She was also keen-eyed, but considerate of the feelings of others in expressing her thoughts.

  Miken smiled as he recalled that Laryia had only been in Allogrenia a short time when she’d observed that the eight clans lived separately not only because they needed an octad surrounding each longhouse to provide sufficient forage, but because they couldn’t bear to be any closer to one another.

  Morclan full of fighters and carvers, Sarclan full of singers and players, Kashclan full of Healers. I’ll wager the Clancouncils are long and tedious, interspersed with flashes of fire, she’d said to him mischievously. And Miken had ruefully agreed.

  Now Laryia poured him a cup of thornyflower tea, her gaze thoughtful as she settled beside him. ‘You’ve come to ask me about Tierken, haven’t you?’ she said.

  Miken nodded.

  ‘I would have thought you’d be glad to have Kira away from my brother, for it means she’s here with you.’

  ‘I know Tresen’s spoken of Kira’s growing in the Bough, and of how Tenerini and I wanted her in the Kashclan longhouse. But had Kira been happy in the Bough, we wo
uld have been content she stay here. And had Kira bonded with a man in the north and been happy, we’d also have been content. But Kira’s the unhappiest I’ve ever seen her.’

  ‘No doubt the Lord Caledon will comfort her,’ said Laryia tightly.

  ‘I think there is considerable doubt about that too,’ said Miken. ‘And that worries me, Laryia, because the last time I saw Kira this way was just before she set off for the north – alone. Did you have a chance to speak with her privately?’

  Laryia nodded. ‘She was definite about leaving, but –’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘When I asked her outright if she were going with the Lord Caledon, she made some comment about him being one of a number of lovers she might choose.’

  ‘She’s had other lovers?’

  ‘I don’t think so . . . No, I’m sure not. She was referring to her arguments with Tierken over marriage. You see, the Terak way is to marry, not to bond, and I know Tierken asked Kira to marry him more than once, but she refused. It was particularly hard for Tierken to watch Tresen marry me when Kira wouldn’t marry him. It seemed a small thing to prove her commitment to him,’ added Laryia resentfully.

  ‘I see,’ said Miken.

  ‘Do you? Then explain it to me. I’ve never understood why she wouldn’t make that concession.’

  ‘Kira’s father was dominating, and cruel in many small and not so small ways. It’s made her fearful of putting herself under the control of others.’

  ‘Tierken’s not like that! And marriage would have made her status in Sarnia clear. Instead, Tierken has had to put up with sniping and innuendo because she’d only offer him bonding.’

  ‘Bonding’s a very grave commitment,’ said Miken.

  ‘But not permanent, as events have shown,’ retorted Laryia.

  Miken took a gulp of his tea and pressed on. ‘Did Kira say what caused her to break the bond?’

  ‘No, just that the Lord Caledon had been right when he’d said that the breach between the Terak and Tain was too big to mend. But he would say that, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘Did Kira speak of anything else?’

  ‘Not really. She seemed concerned about the Shargh. Apparently Kira and the Lord Caledon came across a Shargh woman with a sick child on the journey here.’

  ‘Where?’ asked Miken sharply.

  ‘A day out from the Renclan Sentinel, I think. Kira actually tended the child. No doubt it will grow up to thank us with spears.’

  ‘Did Kira –’ started Miken, but at that moment the door opened and Tresen and Caledon appeared.

  ‘Clanleader Miken,’ said Caledon, greeting him with a bow. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

  ‘And you,’ said Miken, returning his bow.

  ‘Kira’s at your longhouse?’ asked Caledon.

  ‘She is indeed,’ said Miken, ‘much to the delight of Kashclan. She’s enjoying the company of those from whom she’s long been separated, and resting in preparation for the Clancouncil. I would ask that you leave her undisturbed until after she meets with them, Lord Caledon, for this might be the last opportunity she has to be with her kin.’

  ‘By all means,’ said Caledon. ‘When do you plan to hold the council?’

  ‘Not until the full moon. Sarclan and Tarclan are busy with harvesting feathergrass tubers at this time of season.’

  Miken bowed to Caledon, then forcing a smile for Laryia, moved quickly towards the door, Tresen seeing him out. Miken had no need to speak to either Tresen or Caledon now, and probably not Kest either, unless he was conveniently close by.

  ‘Do you happen to know if Kest is at the Warens?’ he asked Tresen.

  ‘Protector Commander Kest told me he’d be at his longhouse for the next few days. Perhaps he’s helping with their feathergrass tuber harvest,’ added Tresen meaningfully.

  ‘Unlikely,’ muttered Miken, acknowledging his lie. Then, with a brief nod to his son, he hastened away towards Kashclan.

  46

  Miken found himself with ample time to think on what Laryia had told him as he made his way back to the Kashclan longhouse, and to ponder his own feelings of unease. And the more he thought about it, the more Kira’s relationship with Tierken seemed to be central to his concerns. It appeared strange to Miken now that he’d never taken much interest in Laryia’s brother, despite knowing that Kira had chosen to remain in the north with him.

  At one time Miken had thought there was a slim chance that Kira would bond with Kest, and when Caledon had first come to Allogrenia, Caledon had been confident that Kira would bond with him. In fact, the Tallien still seemed confident. But the only certainty was that Kira had bonded with the Leader of the Terak Kutan – bearer of Terak’s blood and ruler of the wild places of the north.

  Given his heritage, Kira’s love for Tierken seemed incomprehensible, and apparently one-sided. It was my mistake, she’d said of the bonding, implying he had wanted them to remain casual lovers. Yet Laryia suggested the exact opposite, that the difficulties had actually been caused by Tierken wanting more commitment than Kira was prepared to give.

  Laryia might simply be defending her brother, thought Miken – but then again, so might Kira, taking all the blame for the broken bonding upon herself. And the fact remained that Tierken hadn’t pursued Kira south. Maybe the parting had been too bitter. Or perhaps pride forbade it, or loss of face. But the sheer distance between Sarnia and Allogrenia might also be the reason. Miken knew from Tresen that horses couldn’t cross the mountains, and it had taken Tresen and Laryia almost a moon to reach the edge of the forest, having to follow the longer route around the Azurcades. So even if Tierken had set out by horse straight after Kira had left, he’d still be half a moon behind.

  Given that it would be some time before he could talk to the northern ruler – if indeed he ever had the opportunity – Miken felt an increasing sense of urgency to discover Kira’s exact reasons for leaving her bondmate. The sword that had killed Kandor over a season ago had cut her connection to Allogrenia and sent her on the perilous quest north. Now another connection had been severed, this time with Tierken.

  Kira was safely back in the Kashclan longhouse, so he should feel comforted, yet she’d hinted to Laryia that she didn’t intend to stay. Given that she wouldn’t return north, it might mean she had decided to bond with Caledon. But nothing in her demeanour suggested it.

  The one constant in Kira’s life had been her passion for healing. It had driven her since she was very young, and increasingly to the detriment of her own welfare. Miken’s thoughts came back to her meeting with the sick Shargh child and his anxiety increased. That, coupled with the loss of the man she had loved, might just be enough to send Kira on another quest – this time with no hope of returning.

  He needed to speak with her again, but when Miken finally hurried up the path of the Kashclan longhouse and reached the warmth of the cooking place, it was only to be told that Kira had left shortly after him that morning and had gone to the Warens. And it seemed no one quite knew when to expect her return.

  Kira crouched over a Writing in the Storage Cavern, her back aching and her eyes gritty. She’d dozed off more than once, and refilled the lamp several times, so it was actually possible that she had been there for more than a day. Grimacing, she struggled upright and slid the Writings back into the Sheaf and then the whole lot back onto the shelf. Sleeping on the stone wasn’t a good idea, she thought, beating at the dust on her breeches. Then, extinguishing the lamp, she set off back up the tunnel.

  The store of Writings hadn’t revealed anything new about ministering to fevers that filled the lungs with water, but she’d found a brief reference to the benefits of blacknuts as a preventative to ‘congestion of the chest’. Blacknuts were plentiful in Allogrenia and used for all manner of things – bread and lamp oil included – and Kira wondered whether that was why such fevers were rare in the forest. But she had dealt with illnesses similar to the Shargh child’s in Sarnia – with wounded patrolmen who’d spent too lo
ng in the open before reaching help.

  Kira went steadily, counting the turns and openings of other caverns, surprised at how well she remembered the way, but noting that the journey hadn’t grown any shorter in her absence. By the time Kira came to the training rooms, she was excruciatingly tired and in no mood for the courteous greetings of the Protectors she passed.

  Finally she reached the outer cavern where Nogren’s broad bole all but blocked the fissure in the stone, and was about to squeeze past it when someone approached from the other side. Cursing under her breath, Kira stepped back.

  It was Kest, blond hair gleaming, clothing smooth and unstained. Kira ineffectually rubbed her dusty sleeve across her face.

  ‘Tremen Leader Feailner Kiraon of Kashclan,’ he said with a bow.

  ‘Protector Commander Kest of Morclan,’ she returned.

  Kest hadn’t missed an opportunity since her return to emphasise her status as Leader.

  ‘Do you realise we first met in this very spot?’ asked Kest.

  ‘Did we?’

  ‘Yes. You were . . . in a hurry,’ said Kest, recalling just in time that Kira had been with Kandor.

  ‘I’m in a hurry now as well,’ said Kira, going to pass him.

  ‘Why?’ asked Kest. ‘You have all the time in the world. Just a few more days of leadership duties, and then . . . nothing.’

  He smiled when he said it, but the words stung.

  ‘A Healer always has something to do,’ she muttered, starting forward again, but Kest caught her arm.

  ‘I think you should reconsider your decision to withdraw your healing gift from your people,’ he said.

  ‘Take your hand off me, Protector Commander,’ said Kira coldly.

  He released her and bowed. ‘I beg your pardon, Tremen Leader Feailner Kiraon of Kashclan.’