The Crow God's Girl

by Patrice Sarath

  She had an attack of shyness. Should she write, Love, Kate? Or just Kate? She opted for the latter, and drew a small heart next to her name. At least she hoped that was what it looked like. Even symbols got messed up by transit through the gordath. He’ll know what I mean, she thought hopefully. She sanded the letter and waved it in the air. She would give it to Lady Beatra that evening to go out with the next courier.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she said to the little girl hopping in the doorway. Eri was dressed in split skirts and a thick half cloak, gloves, and felted boots. The weather had gotten cold. Mornings that once were damp with mist and dew now gleamed with frost. It melted by mid-morning, but the days of good weather were at an end. The sunshine was thin and feeble and the air smelled of snow. The men went out hunting deer and boar, and the smokehouses ran day and night, preserving meat for the winter. The barns were full of hay, and the livestock had grown their thick winter coats overnight.

  She took Eri’s hand and they skipped down the stairs, Kate avoiding the troublesome step with old familiarity. Yare waited for them at the door, dressed like a small warrior in leathers and oilskin. He even had a knife at his belt.

  “Kett, I’m riding Allegra. Drabian said.”

  Kate snorted as they went out into the bright cold day. “Drabian said no such thing. You’d break your neck, Yare. Ride Red Socks.”

  Yare was a great little rider, but he was no match for the bad-tempered Allegra. Kate had not been able to ride her at all in the past few weeks. Lady Beatra had kept her busy. She shadowed my lady throughout her day, carrying her keys and her account books, learning the craft of running a great House. And evenings were spent playing chess with the children or teaching them their lessons, or practicing her sewing or knitting.

  It’d been so long since she had been in the saddle, she was as likely to break her neck on Allegra as Yare was.

  Nobles they might be, but Terricks cared for their own horses. Kate and the children worked up a sweat by grooming and tacking up their horses. Kate helped Eri with the big Aeritan saddle on her sturdy pony. Yare struggled by himself, heaving a saddle onto Red Sock’s back. Kate was grateful for her small English saddle for Allegra.It was almost dainty in comparison.

  “Now, where are you going?” Drabian growled, coming into the barn.

  “To the village,” Kate said. “Lady Beatra has given her permission.” It was true, but only after Eri and Yare had wheedled it out of her, arguing that the kidnappers had been chased off and there was nothing to fear anymore. Kate was sure that kids didn’t know that the real reason for the embargo was Kate herself. Lady Beatra must have realized that one way to squash rumors was to make sure Kate never went anywhere unsupervised. Eri and Yare couldn’t protect her against thieves and vagabonds, but they were the perfect chaperones.

  Drabian harrumphed and checked the pony’s girth and straightened the headstall. “Only to the village then. Mind you stay away from the river.”

  As if they would go back. Yare sure didn’t want to, and she certainly wouldn’t take the kids down there. Kate promised anyway.

  As they led their horses out of the barn, hooves clomping against the stone floor, she heard someone shout, “Hey!”

  They looked up. Ossen stood up in the hayloft, holding onto a rope. She launched herself into the air and swung out over them, and then dropped in front of the horses. The other horses only startled but Allegra half reared. Kate struggled to settle her down.

  “Ossen, you idiot!”

  Ossen laughed. Her eyes were bright, glittery with excitement.

  “Where are you going? Are you running away?”

  “We’re going to the village,” Eri said. Her eyes were wide at the irrepressible Ossen.

  “Oh.” Ossen deflated. “You should run away. I’m off to the outlands when the weather is good. You can come with me”

  “Are you taking the crow’s road?” Yare’s eyes went wide. He looked as if he would follow his hero to the ends of the earth and back.

  “I would not travel any other way, young lord. You should all come. The open road stretching out before you, white under the moonlight... I can’t wait to leave.”

  “You’ll leave much sooner than that, if you don’t get back to work, boy!” Drabian shouted. “Scaring the horses like that! I don’t know what my lady was thinking, to give guesting to one such as you!”

  Ossen laughed and made an exaggerated oops! busted face. She shimmied back up the rope to the hayloft, where she had been forking hay down for the horses.

  “Is he really a crow?” Eri asked, her voice hushed.

  Really a crow, just not really a he. “He is something else, that’s for sure,” Kate said.

  “I’m glad he’s here,” Yare said. “He tells me stories about the crows. Do you know he has four brothers and they travel all over Aeritan? They call it walking the crow’s road. It’s all the secret roads through Aeritan that only the crows know about.”

  Kate felt a twinge of jealousy. Ossen was the only girl close to her age that she wanted to talk to, even be friends with, and she wasn’t allowed to because everyone thought she was a boy. But Yare could have long talks with her in the hayloft.

  “Four brothers is an awful lot of brothers,” she said lightly. “Maybe that’s why Ossen travels by himself.” She boosted Eri into the saddle and checked her stirrups, then gave Yare a leg up on the gangly Red Socks. She lifted herself lightly into Allegra’s saddle and the mare tossed her head, immediately wanting to run. Not likely; she would have to settle for a long, sedate walk. The discipline would do her good.

  In the courtyard, Aevin was drilling with the men.

  “Aevin, Aevin!” Eri shouted and waved. He waved back, and for a moment he looked wistful, but he immediately turned back to his sparring partner and gestured for him to square off again. Despite the cold, all the men were stripped to their shirts.

  He spends all of his time with the men now, except for meals.

  The young man had grown in the weeks since his father went to Council, his face hardening, his shoulders becoming broader through constant drilling. Kate didn’t know the last time she saw him smile. She felt both sad for Aevin and a little frightened of him. It’s hard to be a Terrick. For all of us.

  She couldn’t go to the village without seeing Callia, and it turned out the children had friends in the village. So they tethered the horses in Callia’s front garden, and Eri and Yare ran off to play with the other kids while Kate and Callia cozied by the fire with vesh. This time Callia offered a dollop of brandy to Kate, and she accepted. Mixed with the herbs, the brandy was more palatable, and it caused a sweet warmth to spread outward from her belly. Callia smacked her lips.

  “Did you get my gift, girl?” she asked, grinning with anticipation of Kate’s response. Kate couldn’t help it, she blushed, and she knew that it wasn’t the brandy.

  “Yes I did. And midwife Callia, what were you thinking? If anyone saw it I would have been in terrible trouble.”

  Callia waved away her objections. “Oh, those old sticks wouldn’t even have known what it was. Never mind them. You keep it safe, and you use it on your wedding night and thereafter, until you are ready to catch a baby.”

  If Colar agreed.

  At her expression, Callia’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “I just don’t know if Colar will want to use it,” Kate mumbled.

  “He’s a good boy and grown into a good man. He will agree with this for you.” Callia’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle.

  “I know. He is. It’s just–”

  “Send him to me. I’ll talk to him.” Now Callia sounded forceful. “It is not right that women bear child after child until their insides wear out. I’ve seen sorrowful things, young Kett Mossland, and I tell you if I could only slow down the childbearing, I could save more children and more mothers. Sometimes I think the grass god’s daughter demands a terrible price.”

  The words rang out in the cheerful kitchen.
The only sound came from the crackling fire. So I’m not the only woman who does not like the grass god’s daughter. Kate wondered if there were other women in the village, heck in Aeritan, who felt the god was a curse as much as she was a blessing.

  “There,” Callia sighed. “I’ve frightened you with my blasphemy. Don’t worry, Kett Mossland. It’s nothing the grass god’s daughter has not already heard from me.”

  Greatly daring, Kate said, “Or me.”

  She expected Callia to acknowledge her, but the midwife only shook her head, fear in her old eyes. “Oh girl. Don’t say that, for she is a jealous spirit. Me she tolerates, but you she will take vengeance on.”

  “No,” Kate said, stubborn. “I know she’s dangerous and has great power, but she doesn’t bring about healthy childbirth, Callia. You do. And I don’t have medical training or anything, but I know a few things that could help. Washing your hands, for one–the next time you attend a birth. I could teach you.”

  The old midwife eyed her skeptically, then snorted. “Listen to you. It’s the brandy. I should have known. Now quick girl, a dollop on the floor to give to the gods. It will mollify her and make her forget everything she’s heard.” Callia splashed a little of her cup onto the stone floor. Grudgingly, Kate let a few drops fall. Look at you, she told herself. You are feuding with a god. You are going to lose, Kate. But she couldn’t help it. She was stubborn, and she was tired of being pushed around, and she was tired of Callia being pushed around. If the grass god’s daughter wanted respect, she should be a lot nicer.

  Callia breathed a sigh of relief and refreshed the brandy in her cup. Kate waved away a second helping and looked down at the floor. Of Callia’s offering, there was no trace; of hers, she could see where the small drops still settled on the stone, glistening without sinking in.

  Kate was teaching the children their lessons as a commotion from downstairs got her attention. She looked up from the writing table. Eri and Yare abandoned their sums in a rush, racing to the window.

  “Dispatch rider!” Yare shouted, and bolted, Eri following him at top speed. Kate looked out the window. The bustle and excitement was apparent even from two stories up. Householders streamed out to see the man, hold his horse, bring him inside. Even the thick stone walls of the big house couldn’t hold back the sound of excitement and calls for my lady.

  She became nervous. She wrapped the wool cloak around her more tightly, suddenly more chilled than ever. She wanted to run downstairs with the rest and see what he had to bring, but she didn’t want to stand in front of the householders, waiting for a letter from Colar, only to find out there wasn’t one. He hadn’t written her yet, even though there had been other dispatches from Salt. I don’t need a letter. I just need him to come back.

  She didn’t know how long she sat alone in the small schoolroom, pretending to read a book on the stories of the soldier’s god and the elder lords of Aeritan, until the door banged open. Thani stood there; if she had gum, she would have chewed it. As it was, she jerked her head at the hallway.

  “My lady wants you. Best be quick about it.”

  So there was a letter. Not wanting to reveal her excitement to Thani, Kate closed the book deliberately, using a bit of paper to mark her place. She turned to look at Thani. The maid smirked.

  “Fine.”

  The girl didn’t move. Kate just watched her with all the coolness she could muster, and finally, grudgingly, the householder left, leaving the door open behind her.

  Kate brushed down her dowdy clothes, smoothed her hair, and refastened her kerchief. She grabbed her wrap. Although Lady Beatra’s study would be warm, the halls of the great house were bitterly cold now. Winter was at the doorstep. Soon there would be no more passage until the thaws began. Colar and his father would have to hurry home or they would have to wait out the winter in Salt.

  She hurried along the stone hallway, the bite of winter chasing her, and presented herself to the door of Lady Beatra’s study, steeled herself, and rapped on the door.

  “Come in,” came the quiet, crisp voice. Kate pushed the door open.

  The study was cozy that day, not like the day of her tribunal, as she had come to call it. The fireplace crackled merrily, and the thick curtains were pulled against the windows. The sofa had a throw on it, as if Lady Beatra sometimes napped here, though Kate doubted she ever did anything so indulgent as allow herself a nap.

  Today she sat at her enormous desk. She faced Kate as she entered.

  Something’s wrong.

  “Ma’am?” Kate said.

  “My child,” Lady Beatra said. She held a piece of paper, and she looked as if she didn’t know what to do with it. She shook her head, folded the paper, set it aside, then turned back to Kate. “I am so sorry, Kett.”

  “Just tell me!” Kate burst out. If anything happened to Colar, what would she do?

  Lady Beatra composed herself. “Colar is to be married. He is betrothed to Janye of Kenery.”

  She tried to speak and could not. She heard the words and turned them over in her mind and could not make sense of it. Lady Beatra said nothing, just let her absorb the news.

  “Was it his decision?” she managed finally, stupidly. What did it matter? But it did matter. She could bear anything but that. Please not that.

  “Oh, Kett–he’s a Terrick. It was not that he would have–we don’t have the right to choose–”

  “My. Name. Is. Kate.” The words came out in a low growl. Lady Beatra looked alarmed and she broke off her fumbling explanation. Kate’s anger swelled until it closed out her sight, blackness fading in on her periphery. She dug her fingernails into her palms, trying to come back to herself. The rage threatened to overwhelm. If I don’t get out of here, I will faint.

  She managed to stumble out of the study into the hall, the coldness of the stone hallway reviving her somewhat. She sensed that people watched her, and she brushed by them.

  She couldn’t go to her room. Eri would be upstairs soon and would want to know what happened. No. She would know. Probably everyone in Terrick knew already. Bitterly, Kate knew that her fall would bring celebration among the servants, the men at arms, and even across all of Aeritan, as far as she could tell. She fled to the one place where she could find the most comfort, the only place she ever felt at home, even when she was at home.

  The cold air took her breath away as she ran across the courtyard, barely aware of householders and smallholders turning to look at her. She pulled the barn door closed behind her and let herself into Hotshot’s loosebox. In the frigid barn she pressed herself against Hotshot’s warm flank, letting the tears come but muffling them against the horse’s warm coat. Hotshot turned his head and blew hot air at her, giving her comfort. Soldier’s god, soldier’s god, she prayed, forgetting the admonition to never seek comfort from that of all the gods.

  Soldier’s god, what is going to happen to me?

  She stayed out in the freezing barn until dark, when Lady Beatra and Samar came to find her. The two ladies held a lantern and a warm woolen cloak, finer than anything she had ever worn.

  “Child,” said Lady Beatra gently, holding the lantern up high. “Come back to the house. You will catch your death.”

  Kate was shivering and stiff and she let herself be coaxed up and wrapped in the cloak. They led her back to the house and upstairs to her room. No one was about, and she was grateful, but she wondered if it was because Lady Beatra had given orders for everyone to stay away.

  A bath waited for her, steaming in front of the fireplace. She let herself be undressed and helped into the tub, while the two women clucked gently. Even Samar stroked her hair, almost making Kate dissolve into tears again. But there was a hard core inside her, and she was through crying, even though she was hurt and humiliated and terrified.

  They washed her and brushed her hair and braided it, and dressed her in a warm nightgown, and let her fall asleep by herself, a warm brick at her feet.

  The great chamber at Salt was lit with the
glow of dozens of oil lamps, their sweet, smoky scent pleasant in the chill. The vaulted ceiling with its ribbed beams was obscured with smoke, gathering the nobility of Aeritan under its cloud.

  Colar and Janye faced one another in front of the high table where the Council sat in session. He wore a suit of deep blue, the dark red of Terrick woven in a subtle pattern across his vest. The lining of his cloak had the same pattern. The clothing was fine, the finest he had ever worn.

  Janye was dressed in Kenery colors, muted gray and green. She was so beautiful that she outshone her drab colors. Her hair gleamed under the light, her face was flawless, and her expression was serene, as if she was where she wanted to be at that moment. He wondered at her calm. He was so agitated he couldn’t hear the words spoken by the elders of the Council, the old bulls like his father, Salt, Kenery, and Saraval calling upon the high god to bless their union. Colar knew he was supposed to feel something as the high god came down and gave his approval, but he couldn’t concentrate.

  When it was time he turned to Janye, clasping hands, and they took turns reciting their pledges to one another. Still her face was calm and he wondered if the high god would make anything of her blasphemy. I hope not, he thought. If the high god took to punishing any lord for disbelief, he would have to take out all of them. I’m just as bad about it. He mouthed the words and felt nothing. Her hands were soft and warm, and he could feel the bones beneath the skin.

  She made sure to pull them from his grasp as soon as the simple ceremony was over and a murmur rose from the audience.

  “Well done, well done,” Kenery beamed, and he slapped Colar on the shoulder and then did the same to Lord Terrick for good measure. Salt smiled benevolently upon them. Colar didn’t look at his father.

  The rest of the night passed in a blur. He accepted congratulations from the lords and ladies, and Janye did as well, and they could have been a thousand miles apart for all they acknowledged one another. Only once did he falter, when Lady Trieve came to him and congratulated him, but he could see the crease between her brows. Colar felt himself redden, but she said only, “Congratulations, young man. May you have a long and happy married life.”