The Crow God's Girl

by Patrice Sarath

  She groaned and buried her face in the down-stuffed pillow. A sound caught her attention–the door, opening a crack, and tiny little sniffle. Then,

  “Kett? Can I come in to bed with you and Eri?”

  Careful not to let any pity leak into her voice, she said, “Sure. Come on up.”

  Yare clambered up between her and his little sister. Eri muttered something and turned away, and Yare lay still as a board. After a moment his shoulders shook and he tried to keep back his sobs. She could imagine him sharing a bed with his big brother and not being able to cry, because he was a Terrick, and a noble, and crying wasn’t allowed, and coming to the only person he knew for comfort. Kate sat up and rocked him, whispering, “It’s okay, Yare. It’s okay.”

  Oh Colar. I wish you were here.

  His father had lied–the betrayals of Council happened in the small rooms, not in the hall.

  Colar knew he must look as if he had been pole-axed. He stood before his father in their chambers in the great house of Salt. The fire crackled warmly, and the small oil lamps were turned down low so he couldn’t see his father’s face. He wondered bitterly if his father played it that way. He wished he could flip a switch and call up the bright electric lights at Kate’s house. That would serve his father him well.

  He turned away abruptly and went over to the window. Colar leaned his head against the thick blurred glass, and the nausea receded a bit. When he could speak, he kept his voice controlled, clipped.

  “When you promised Kate and me that we could marry, what were you thinking?”

  “Colar,” his father said. “You have always known that your heart was not yours to pledge.”

  “Yes, I know. So why did you allow me to pledge it to her?”

  For a moment his father said nothing. Colar turned around. The old man just sat there. No, he’s not old, he thought. No older than Mr. Mossland, and not even really old for Aeritan, despite it being a harsher life. His father was born old.

  “You are the eldest son of Terrick. You must do what is best for your House. An alliance with Kenery, through marriage with his daughter–”

  “A House you despise,” Colar put in.

  “What would you have me do, Colar! We are a small House!” His father got up, and began to pace. “We have only a small army. Good men all, but you know how it is. We are land-locked, we have no true trade, except for our brandy and our good name.”

  “Which you just sold cheap,” Colar said. His voice was flat. “You bartered it to Kenery for security.”

  “A House can start with less and gain far more.”

  Colar stared at his father, still in the shadows. His father plotting? With a calm he didn’t know he could summon, he turned up the flame in the lamps, sending the darkness to the corners of the room. When he finished, he could see his father better and he shook his head at the man’s irascible expression.

  “I had to make sure you weren’t joking,” he said. He couldn’t believe he was talking to his father this way and from his expression, neither could Lord Terrick. “What do you expect to gain from this?”

  He could tell his father was eager to explain.

  “An alliance with Kenery gives us the strength at arms to expand beyond our borders. The House of Favor is lordless. It’s open to us, and if we move quickly, with Kenery at our side, we can take it. Terrick will be divided and the greater for it.”

  Favor was Lady Trieve’s ancestral home. It was indeed lordless, her brother slain, the scandal caused by her husband-captain still rocking all of Aeritan. And now his father wanted him to wed a daughter of Kenery, in exchange for Kenery’s support of their taking Favor. Two Houses, one Terrick. And he would be lord, without waiting for his father to die. He knew little of the House for it was far on the other side of Aeritan, almost to the Southern Sea. When he managed to speak, he said, “You trust Lord Kenery?”

  Terrick permitted himself a rare, dour smile. “No. But you understand now?”

  Kenery had the army, Terrick had the reputation, and most of Aeritan would fall in behind them. There would be war, of course, but when in Aeritan wasn’t there war? He did this for me. He is making this throw for me.

  Once, he wanted to only be a good son of Terrick and its lord in his turn. Then, through a turn of fortune, his world had widened when he went to America. Now the world had turned again. He had the chance to become Lord of Favor at age eighteen. He would be an equal to his father, and would no longer have to do his bidding.

  “And if I say no?”

  “Then you choose against your family and leave your House vulnerable to war. What do you think this Council is about, Colar? Even now, there are Houses conspiring against Terrick, because they think we are weak. Choose the girl, and you throw Terrick to the wolves.”

  Colar closed his eyes. The one argument that he could not refute, and his father played it as deftly as if scheming came naturally to him.

  “And what of my good name, lord father? What of my promise to Kate, and what becomes of her?”

  His father’s expression became closed.

  “She is foster daughter of Terrick. We will do right by her. We will find her a good husband, a householder or a free smallholder, whatever she wishes. She can even remain in Terrick as an honored householder, and become midwife or doctor, as she wishes. We will not turn her out.”

  Colar almost laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”

  That was straight out of New York and his father went from blank to furious. He hated when Colar spoke in the idiom of his other life. Colar didn’t care. “You can’t do that, unless you want her to know in how little regard you hold her.”

  “It’s no more than she can expect! What do you think, Colar? That we would let you throw yourself away on a girl of no consequence?”

  “When I was dying, you sent me away willingly enough!”

  He thought his father was going to hit him. Colar stood his ground. Once, not so long ago, his father had blackened his eye. He would kill him before he let him do it again. Maybe his father saw that because Lord Terrick stepped back, his fists clenching and unclenching.

  “If you want the girl that badly, she can become your light-woman after you marry, so long as you get a proper heir first. But you will marry the Kenery daughter, and you will give up the stranger girl.”

  A muscle jumped in his cheek and it was a long moment before he could speak.

  “I’ll tell her. Not you.”

  “Well enough,” his father said. Colar picked up his cloak and headed out of the chamber. He didn’t know where he was going; he just had to get air, clear his head. Salt was a big enough city; he’d find an alehouse easily enough, maybe even a street girl. It didn’t much matter anymore anyway.

  “Colar!” His father said to his back. “We’re not finished!”

  “Yeah, dad. We are.”

  He didn’t slam the door behind him. He didn’t have to. Colar stormed down the stairs to the town, his father’s voice floating after him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  In the days after the kidnapping, the weather turned from golden late summer to rain-drenched autumn, throwing up a spattering of rain against the walls of the great House. The men at arms made a few desultory forays in search of the brigands, but gave it up when Lady Beatra called them back. Kate kept her promise to herself and told Lady Beatra what she had heard.

  Lady Beatra heard her out, her eyes on Kate and her expression concerned and absorbed. When Kate finished, my lady pursed her lips and folded her worn hands on the desk.

  “And you told Maksin, Kett?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She nodded and sighed as if she knew without Kate having to go into detail how that had gone.

  “Well,” she said at last, “You did your best to warn this House, and for that I thank you. And I thank you as well for helping rescue our Yare, for that was no small thing. You have great bravery, my dear, and for one so young. But sometimes bravery is foolhardiness, and I think I would fe
el better if you stay closer to home from now on.”

  So there it was. Well, she had known it would happen.

  “Not even to the village, Lady Beatra?” she said, struggling to keep a pleading note from her voice.

  “No, child, and I know you will miss that, for you do love your wild ramblings. I too, growing up in Saraval, loved to walk and ride along the hills.” Her expression became far away as she looked back into her past, and then Lady Beatra came back to herself. “No. With these child thieves out and about, it is far too dangerous. And it is well for you to stay home, because you have become a right little housekeeper, but there is still much to learn.”

  Just shackle me to the kitchen, why don’t you. Kate gave a wooden nod, and Lady Beatra responded with her own, as well as a little gesture dismissing her. Kate made a credible curtsey.

  “Kett,” Lady Beatra said.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Truly, we thank you. If it hadn’t been for you and the crow–” her voice faltered. Yare wasn’t the only one with trauma from his experience. How Lady Beatra must have felt hearing his tale, thinking how close she came to losing another child. How could I stand it? Kate thought. And yet she must stand it. This was her life now. She took a deep breath.

  “I am Terrick, ma’am,” she said. “Yare’s like my little brother.”

  “And you are a valued member of this family,” Lady Beatra said firmly. “I count it a blessing of the grass god’s daughter that you caught my son’s eye. That is why we can’t lose you. Goodness, what would Colar say?”

  Kate’s expression grew pained. What indeed? But she could hardly say that to his mother. It was a loving speech, well said. Kate was valued. She was a member of the family. She should count her blessings herself. So why did it only make her feel worse?

  “Thank you, Lady Beatra,” she said.

  She was moping down the stairs when Samar hailed her.

  “Young miss,” the housekeeper said, her dour voice as starched as her kerchief. She held out a small package. The severe housekeeper raised an arched brow at her and pursed her wrinkled lips with disdain. “It is a gift from the midwife, Callia,” she said, a light sneer in her voice. “You’ve made a friend of the old gossip.” She didn’t sound as if it were something to be proud of.

  She’s not really a friend, Kate almost said, but thought better of it since that wasn’t fair to Callia. Samar and Callia had an old rivalry, if Callia was telling the truth. Then again, she didn’t want to sound as if she were defending the midwife. It would not do to piss off Samar, especially if she were one of the householders in her corner.

  “Thank you for bringing it to me,” she said instead. The package was plainly wrapped in a clean cloth and tied with a blue ribbon. It weighed almost nothing.

  Samar swept away, as if being Callia’s errand girl was more than she could stand. Something warned Kate that it would be best to open any present from Callia in secret, and she put the package in her skirt pocket. She could open it in her bedroom, but if Eri came in, there would go her secret.

  The next most private place was the pasture. No one had said she couldn’t visit her horses. She hurried down the stairs, breezing along as if she had nothing to hide. Kate let herself out the big door, slipping through and pulling the big heavy door closed after her. It was cold and raw and hardly felt like summer any more. Kate wore thick skirts made of felted wool, leggings under that, and a cardigan over her tunic. She smelled of wet sheep, but she was warm, if damp. Her hair frizzed under her kerchief and dripped against the back of her neck.

  The men at arms lounged in the courtyard as usual, mending gear or just hanging around. Unlike the smallholders or householders, Terrick’s small army were bachelors for the most part, living in quarters at the back of the house. They ate in the kitchens and trained in the courtyard, patrolled at night, and lounged around by day. Thani flirted with them outrageously. The children were acquainted with the men of course; Aevin and Colar trained with them, and Eri and Yare were doted upon by them. Kate was used to their hard stares or worse and tried to ignore them. One or two caught her eye and she gave them a stiff nod, trying not to walk away too fast.

  “Girl.”

  Crap. She stopped, debated whether to turn around and finally did, unwilling to be thought rude. It would only be another strike against her.

  “What?” she said.

  He looked back at his mates with stifled laughter.

  “If you’re looking for a horse to ride, I’ve got a stallion for you right here.”

  Face flaming, she turned on her heel and marched on, their raucous laughter chasing her. The harassment had gotten worse since Colar and his father had gone. Under Maksin’s example the men had gotten bolder about it. One more thing she couldn’t talk to Lady Beatra about–it would sound like she was complaining, and it would probably just set Maksin against her even more. Plus, she’d never get out of the house, once Lady Beatra found out about it.

  Fine. She had learned her lesson. Her mistake was in thinking that she would be treated with respect for once. Being thought rude was better than being thought an idiot. They would call her Lady one day. At some point she would gain their respect, but she couldn’t grovel for it.

  Safe in the pasture, she sat down on the wet stone wall and watched the horses graze in the rain. She let her anger subside: just watching the horses brought a little peace. As always, Allegra stood aloof while Hotshot ambled over to say hi, his ears twitching and his lower lip drooping with pleasure. She knew exactly where to scratch him along his mane to make him feel good. Hotshot browsed next to her as she untied the little package.

  She held up the soft, pliable tube with one hand and clapped her other hand over her mouth. Kate sat in stunned silence, looking at the condom, laughter chasing shock.

  “Oh no,” she managed. “No way. No. Way.”

  Laughter soon fled, panic following. What was Callia thinking? If Torvan found this–if Lady Beatra found this–Kate rolled up the small package and stuffed it into her pocket. Throw it away, a small voice whispered. You don’t want this. She went so far as to look around for a place to bury the condom when she stopped. Why would she want to get rid of it? In her own cheerfully crazy way, Callia had given her what she wanted, a way to control her future and make her own choices. Compare that to housekeeping lessons. But would Colar be willing to use it? Of course he would warred with Not this Colar, this new, strange Colar who treated her as if she were not Kate but an Aeritan girl.

  And what’s so wrong with that? the same voice whispered to her, combined with an overwhelming feeling of rightness. She could be that Aeritan girl, and she and Colar would be happy. She could give up being Kate, embrace her new life, and be Lady of Terrick in her turn. Throw away the condom, have plenty of kids, bury the ones who didn’t make it, sure, but she could be like Lady Beatra. And she liked Lady Beatra. She was smart, capable, loving. Kate could be that person–if she gave up being Kate.

  The voice was persuasive, and it reminded her of another voice–the warning she had heard the day before. A shiver shook her violently.

  “Get out of my head,” she said to the weeping sky. “Get OUT!”

  The earth and sky reeled and she had to put out her hand to keep from falling from her perch on the stone wall. Hotshot threw up his head and shied away, trotting off from the disturbance. Then with a sudden pain, as if something had been yanked from her brain, silence reigned.

  Oh God. No, not God. Not here. These were Aeritan gods who were making their presence felt. The seductive little voice–

  That was the grass god’s daughter, and Kate had just told her off. A sick feeling hit the pit of her stomach.

  Stubbornly, she told herself, I don’t need her to help me through childbirth. I need science, hygiene, medicine.

  None of which she had. She had an eccentric midwife and some luck, but that was it. The sick feeling intensified. Kate pushed it away.

  “I can’t worry about it right n
ow,” she told the gray, unfeeling sky. “I’ll just have to deal with that when the time comes.”

  “Who are you talking to? The horse?”

  Kate turned around and jumped off the wall at the same time. The crow girl stood there, watching her with a lively, interested gaze, like her namesake bird. Kate surreptitiously clutched at her pocket. The girl glanced over at the movement and then returned her gaze to Kate.

  She was a girl, that much was clear now. She was much younger than Kate. Maybe fourteen. No more than an eighth-grader. She was tall and skinny, her hair a mass of dirty tangles around a pointed, skinny, malnourished face. Her dark eyes were remarkable–not big, but expressive, under thick lashes a model would kill for.

  “Well?” the girl said, undeterred by Kate’s silence.

  “Nothing. No one.”

  “Oh.” The girl nodded as if she understood. “The gods, then. They make you mad, don’t they.” She made a curious gesture, as if she were clutching her hair. “Always at you to do this or that.”

  The girl sounded crazy. Kate wasn’t crazy, not like that, except the girl was right. She was hearing voices.

  Um,” she said. “So, they talk to you too?”

  “Yeah. ’Specially the crow god. He jabbers away, talk talk talk. I don’t listen. Gives me the creeps. I tell him off sometimes.”

  “So... you don’t have to listen to them?” A ray of hope crept into her voice. If she didn’t have to listen to the grass god’s daughter, maybe everything would be okay.

  The girl snorted. “Don’t want to go malcra, do I?”

  “Malcra?” What was malcra?

  “Why do you dress like that?” The girl said at the same time.

  “Dress like what?”

  The girl’s forthright curiosity was getting a little irritating.

  “Like you’re a householder. The lord’s son and daughter said that you’re betrothed to the heir, but you dress like a servant.”

  “I do not,” Kate said, stung. Lady Beatra had promised Kate new clothes, hadn’t she, but somehow never got around to it, and Kate hadn’t wanted to be a bother. Only maybe she should have made her bother. Lady Beatra had told her she was valuable, but if that were true, maybe she would have given her nicer clothes. Kate thrust that uncomfortable thought away.