The others roamed around, and she heard Ivar shout from inside. She hurried over with the others. He stood in the mostly intact kitchen, a grin on his ugly face. Kate grinned too.
The kitchen had long been looted, but what remained were two huge domed ovens set into the wall, a stone for baking flatbread, and a few iron utensils pitted with rust. Best of all, forgotten in a corner, was a stack of wood almost crumbled away into chips but still usable as fuel. Balafray nodded in satisfaction.
“Ossen, get an oven working. Ivar and Arlef, bring in wood–we can dry it for tomorrow. Grigar, come with me, see what we can salvage.”
He turned to look at Kate, and in the dimness of the afternoon twilight he looked almost normal.
“The birth of a new world is never easy, strangeling. I promise you–I promise you–” He broke off. He was crying.
Kate turned away–she couldn’t bear to watch. All of the crows were as dumbstruck as she was. Balafray squeezed the bridge of his nose in the universal gesture of a man who didn’t want to cry, and growled something. Then he stalked off into the house, followed by Grigar.
“I’ll start a fire,” Ossen mumbled. The twins pushed at each other in their haste to leave.
Kate pulled out their meager provisions. She wiped down the stone and mixed up the flours in a dry heap. Ossen, her head in the oven as she blew on the tinder to light it, said, “I think there’s a cistern over by the window.”
A small window set in the thick wall let in a bit of light. Kate looked over at the enormous stone well, covered with broken planks. She lifted the hatch and heard the blessed sound of rippling water. There was a leaky wooden bucket and ladle. She dropped the bucket, heard the splash, and drew up water, ice cold and black in the dimness. She smelled it–it smelled of stone and minerals, so she tasted it.
Clear, clean, like snow melt.
She made a simple wet dough, kneading it lightly as she had been taught by her mother and by the cooks in Terrick, and let it rest.
The fire in the oven glowed and a faint bit of warmth overcame the kitchen. Ossen put six yellow potatoes into the oven, and Kate’s mouth watered at the thought of the hot, mealy goodness. The twins came back, laden with damp wood.
“Over there,” Ossen said, nodding to an empty rick near the oven. They stacked it, and went back for more.
Balafray and Grigar returned as Kate patted the dough into flat disks. Grigar helped her slide the stone into the platform built into the oven wall. He gave her an encouraging smile.
“See? Better, right?”
She blushed. “Sorry about that,” she managed.
“No need, chick.”
He was so uncrowlike. She could see the others going malcra, even Ossen, because she had seen the crow girl in action. Not Grigar. He’d stand there and charm his enemies to death. Family or no, what was he doing here? She opened her mouth to ask him when Balafray spoke. He had regained his composure and looked around at the kitchen with satisfaction.
“Give thanks to the crow god, my brothers and sisters, for tonight we live like lords,” he rasped. “Our sisters will sleep here tonight. There is another room off the hall with a fireplace where my brothers and I will sleep. Tonight we rest in peace and warmth.”
No lord would appreciate his castle as much as they did this simple shelter, Kate was sure. The kitchen was releasing its chill, and the aroma of flatbread and potatoes filled the air. She surreptitiously dipped her finger in the bucket on the lip of the well, and flicked some water on the floor. She was grateful, and she didn’t mind letting the crow god know. He might be the god of crazy, but so far he left her alone.
She glanced up and saw Ossen’s eyes on her; the crow girl looked thunderstruck. Kate hoped she hadn’t done anything wrong.
Eating a dinner of flatbread and potatoes in a warm kitchen, dry and warm for the first time in ages, Kate was content. She looked around at her companions. Ivar and Arlef bickered idly. Ossen rested her elbow on her raised knee and her chin in her cupped hand, and stared with half-lidded eyes at the fire. Grigar stretched out, ankles crossed, his hands linked under his head. She caught Balafray’s eye. The crow looked at her, unsmiling. She had the sense that he had been staring at her for a while. Her sense of contentment evaporated.
“What?” she said, trying for bravado and mostly just sounding loud.
Balafray just shook his head. “Sleep tonight, strangeling. The new world begins tomorrow.”
The two girls made ready for the night in silence. The oven still radiated warmth. Kate took off her boots and her socks, setting the socks to dry near the oven. The boots needed some serious TLC. The leather was cracked and stained. They needed to be cleaned and oiled. She wiggled her toes. It felt so good to be free of her socks. Her bedroll and cloak were only slightly damp after being draped to dry in the warm kitchen, so she laid the blanket out on the hearth and pulled the cloak over her, cushioning her head on her arms. Next to her Ossen wrapped herself in her cloak and curled up in front of the oven.
Kate listened to Ossen’s breathing and the slight simmering crackle of the fire. Hope the men have a fire too, she thought, and yawned. A full belly of warm food, a roof overhead, and the ever-present chill at long last easing in her bones, and she started to drift off.
“I’m sorry we lied to you,” Ossen said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Kate turned to look at her. “It’s okay. Sure, it’s a fixer-upper, but my mom would say it has good bones.”
“Balafray told me about you. He knew you, Kate. In the army, a winter ago. He remembers seeing you standing on a wagon, looking back at him, among all the crows. You looked straight at him, he said, and it was enough to send them all into the madness.”
Kate froze, barely breathing.
“They ran you to the edge of the forest, and they almost had you, except you were rescued by the ghost horse.”
She remembered running. Sometimes in her nightmares, she ran on leaded feet, waking up just when they caught her, but not before the horror started.
“He was malcra then, but he knew you meant something. That’s why he sent me to Terrick to find you. And just before, when you gave the offering to the crow god, I knew he was right. You are one of us now, only you are strangeling too. You live outside, like us crows.”
Kate looked up at the dark ceiling. The glow from the ovens faded but the warmth held. So that’s what she was, a strangeling who lived neither within Aeritan’s rules and walls, nor entirely outside, among the crows. She walked a tightrope between two worlds, and if she fell she would be at the mercy of either one of those worlds. Suffered, but not welcome, in either camp.
It took a long time for her heart to slow and to relax. She had traveled safely with the crows for nearly a month. It was not likely that they would go malcra tonight. She yawned, and drifted back into sleep. One last thought was the image of Dungiven standing on the edge of the woods, the big horse belling a lonesome neigh.
They got the story wrong–the stallion hadn’t rescued her, that had been Marthen’s lieutenant–but that was myth for you. And maybe she could use it to her advantage.
Kate woke slowly, stiffly, and stretched. Sunlight shone through the small window at the top of the wall, and she could see blue sky. Ossen lay curled up next to her in a tiny ball.
“Hey,” Kate said, nudging her shoulder. “I’m going to look around.”
Ossen muttered something but otherwise didn’t move.
Kate put on her stiff, dry socks and boots, and grabbed her half-cloak. The warmth of the kitchen had faded, but the early morning sun was already taking off the chill. The walls of the courtyard held back the wind from the plains of Temia, and she shaded her eyes against the brightness of the day. Hotshot had wandered loose from the arbor and browsed on a few patches of green that she hadn’t noticed the previous evening. He raised his head and nickered at her, but went right back to tearing at the grass and the leaves.
Birds sang in the cloudless sky, a sweet melody. Where are you
uuu? We need you. Where are you? We need you...
She tried to catch a glimpse of them, but she could see only rising and falling patches against the blue of the sky.
She pushed open the courtyard door and went out and around. The pile of stone was white and gray under the blue sky. The foothills of Temia, where the decisive battles of the winter war were fought, stretched up toward the jagged mountains that bordered the rest of Aeritan and Red Gold Bridge.
Whistling cheerfully (Where are youuuu? We need you) she poked around the house. She didn’t dare go into the burned-out part–it was probably unstable and she didn’t want to test it. The house rambled along, one story in most places, rising to two or three stories by the kitchens.
There was an old stable, and she pushed the wide doors open, the smell of old hay and manure coming over her.
This time she whistled soundlessly. The crows had come down in the world, if the stable was any indication. It was fine. The loose boxes were big and roomy, and the high windows let in plenty of air and light, helped along by a broken roof. The brick floor of the aisle was cunningly laid, and she pushed aside years–centuries? of dirt to see that the brick had been interlocked and was still solid.
The boxes had the names of horses carved elegantly over each stall, worn but still legible.
Mountain. Storm. Cloud. Rain. Spirit.
The crows once loved their horses, to be sure. She walked down the old, elegant barn, enjoying the melancholy atmosphere.
We can make Temia great again. Rebuild the house, rebuild the stables, cultivate the land. Maybe that’s my path, to help the crows regain their homeland.
A commotion outside made her heart leap. Kate ran back down the aisle, her boots clunking on the bricks. She pushed the door open and slid to a halt, staring.
Crows. At least fifty of them, all looking at her, led by a tattered, mostly naked old man wearing an open robe that had faded to gray and a horsehair cap with a tangled horsetail draped down his back.
The smell of cooking fires rose into the brilliant blue sky. The new crows met with her small band and they sat together out on the open plains, sharing news and vesh. At Balafray’s urging, Kate sat with him and the rest of the family.
The old man was the crow king. He had piercing dark eyes in a weathered face. He was emaciated, nothing but skin and muscle over bone. Kate tried to keep from looking at him, but she couldn’t help but be arrested by his striking gaze. Every time she lifted her eyes, he looked at her as if he were looking through her. So this was the man who led the crows, brought the malcra, and lifted it from them when necessary. She wondered if he had been given his scavenged garb by Aeritan hooligans who thought it was funny to dress him up in a travesty of royalty.
There were two women among the leaders, their faces proud and lean, wrinkled and careworn. They told the news they had been missing during their weeks on the road.
The lords were preparing for war over Favor, and armies rode south and west. Council had been called in Salt, and the lords gathered to argue the matter, but the outcome was foregone, all said. Favor would fall. The captain of Trieve had sent word to the crows, asking for their help.
“I have no love for the Trieve captain,” one crow growled, and there was a muttering at that. The Trieve captain, that was Lord Crae who killed Marthen last summer and helped Colar rescue her.
“Nor I,” Balafray rasped. He touched his livid scar. “This is my reward for Trieve. Let him keep Favor or lose it, as he will. I do not fight for Favor or Trieve.”
Oh ho. Kate remembered hearing about that last year, when she first got to Terrick. It was scandalous, and she hadn’t understood much of it at the time. The Trieve lord had granted guesting to a crow. Then his wife’s brother, Lord Favor that was, murdered the crow, the crows attacked Trieve for breaking the sacred guesting, and Lord Trieve killed his brother-in-law.
And now Favor is lordless, and that’s why Colar’s dad wants it. That’s why he married Colar to Janye Kenery. Alliances were the Aeritan way, as was backstabbing. Colar’s family was just like the rest, she thought bitterly.
“We stay out of this,” one of the crow leaders said. She wrinkled her nose at the thought. “Crows don’t fight for Favor. Crows don’t fight for Terrick. Let them kill each other. The crows will have Aeritan, as we once did.”
The crow king stirred, shifting his weight on his skinny haunches. Kate tried not to look.
“Do you not know the law of the crow?” he said, his voice rasping and thick. He tapped a skinny finger on the dirt in front of him. “What Aeritan gives, we must take, for we are lordless and Houseless, and Aeritan herself must sustain us.”
Again they muttered, but uncertainly. The crow king’s measured voice went on.
“The greatest blessing that ever happened to the crows was being cast out of Temia. For now we are the true people of Aeritan. We are Aeritan’s children, and no one can take that from the crows, unless we let them.”
The muttering grew. The crow king tapped once more on the dirt. It felt as if the ground trembled for an instance. Impossible, Kate thought uneasily, but she had felt it.
“But now that blessing has run its course.”
There was a buzz of conversation among the crows, surprise in the tone of their responses. The crow king scanned the crowd, his narrowed eyes making it appear he looked straight at every one of them.
“The lords are at play once again,” he said. “They think only of themselves and their Houses. But there is another House they must consider, another lord. It is time we crows rise up to take back what is ours.”
The rumbling grew louder and then one after another, crows stood up and shouted back.
“They call upon us when they fight their battles!” someone cried. “But when we try to survive, they hound us from land to land, killing us when they can.”
More crows on their feet, shouting, shaking their crude weapons.
This time Grigar spoke, raising his voice. “Have you all gone malcra, and while we sit at council yet? You think they hate each other more than they hate us? Not so. If the crows rose up it would only unite the whole Council against us and they would wipe us clean, as they have done in other years.”
“Hate! They know nothing of hate!” A crow screamed this, a shriek, and Kate gasped, remembering that sound. Grigar was losing them–in a few minutes they would all be crazy.
And I’m the only one here who isn’t a crow.
The crow king needed to stop it. Kate looked at him, but he looked as peaceful and thoughtful as if he had not incited a riot with a handful of words.
She jumped to her feet, taking a deep breath.
“Grigar’s right,” she shouted.
Silence dropped like a stone. The only sounds were the wind and the piping of the birds. Kate’s heart hammered so hard she could feel it in her temples. They had cut off the sound so quickly it was as if she had unplugged them.
The last time this many crows looked at me, they tried to kill me. This time, they looked at her as if she controlled them.
And if I lose control, then what? She didn’t want to find out.
“Grigar’s right,” she said again, pitching her voice to carry but quieter, more forceful than loud. She wanted to be a monkey wrench; here was her chance.
“If we fight the Council, we will lose; they will unite against us and kill us once and for all. But there is a way. Let us come to Favor’s aid and they in turn will become our allies. Favor is just the beginning. Terrick wants it for his son, Colar.” She didn’t even wince to say it. “That’s why he’s allied with Kenery.”
She leaned forward and said with emphasis, “With Terrick, Favor, and Kenery, they’ll have so much power, it will be like they’re a High King.”
There was a dangerous rumble at that.
“I say we stop them dead in their tracks,” she said, barely able to contain her excitement. “We throw in with Trieve and Favor, and we keep that alliance from yielding fruit.”
/> “Why?” said one of the crow leaders, a woman with a proud nose and startling black eyes. She did not look as if Kate controlled her. “What do crows care for the lords and their little games?”
Kate turned to her, speaking with intensity. “It’s about time the crows had a House to speak for them in Council,” she said. “Otherwise, we’ll always be at the mercy of the lords and their ‘little’ games. In the winter’s war, the crows were pawns. Last summer, we got whipped by Trieve after one of our own was murdered under guesting. It’s about time Temia got to have a say about which wars we fight and which we don’t.
“I propose this. I propose that we go to Council and force them to recognize Temia as a House.”
“Which of the lords will say yea to crows?” cried one.
“Trieve will, because I’ll make sure Lady Trieve will know we stand with them at Favor. Lord Tharp will because–”
“Because Lady Sarita will make him!” someone yelled, and they all laughed. The danger was thinning now, the malcra subsiding. They were human again.
“And all the little Houses, Shay and Saraval and Wessen and Camrin, they’ll support us, because they don’t want too much power in one group’s hands. They’re small, but they add up.”
She sat back and let them cheer, hoping that they couldn’t see how hard her heart beat or how her hands trembled. She kept them lightly curved around her knees just in case.
“They won’t let us in,” the woman said. “They will never accept us.”
Kate turned to her. “They’ll let me in.”
She didn’t know where her assurance came from, but as soon as she spoke the words, she knew them to be true. She would speak for House Temia in Council, and she would have an army of crows to back her up.
The cheering grew, rolling over the camp in a wave. Arlef and Ivar and Ossen were grinning like fools, and Ossen raised her fist in salute when she saw Kate looking at her. Grigar looked at her as if he was just seeing her for the first time, his expression a combination of awe and disbelief. She grinned back at him, letting the mood of the crow overtake her. I know, right?
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