by DAVID B. COE
"Wait just a moment," R'Shev broke in, his eyes flicking back and forth between U'Selle and S'Doryn. "Are you telling me that the Mettai are responsible in some way for the pestilence that's been striking at septs on the plain?"
The a'laq nodded, her expression grim. "Yes, although we have no reason to believe that all the Mettai were behind this. But at least one woman made baskets for trade that she then cursed and sold. The Y'Qatt were the first to be affected, but the plague eventually spread to our people."
"Blood and bone," the peddler whispered. "Forgive me, A'Laq. Had I known, I wouldn't have set foot in their marketplace."
U'Selle reached over and patted the man's arm, a sad smile on her lips. "It's all right, R'Shev. You've proven your friendship to the Fal'Borna." She glanced around the room at the members of the council. "Our friend here is Nid'Qir," she told them. "Remember that the next time you have in ill word to say about his clan. In any case, we were talking about the Mettai and what the Eandi commander might have been asking of them."
"It could be that they were asking for more baskets," Y'Bej said.
S'Doryn shook his head. "At this point every a'laq in every sept on the plain has been warned against Mettai baskets. Besides, if there's a war coming, we're not going to be welcoming Eandi traders into our villages, at least not for a while. Baskets, blankets, woodwork-no matter how they might disguise the curse, it wouldn't work a second time. Not if we're at war."
"What if they used someone like me to get you the goods?" R'Shev asked.
S'Doryn grinned. "Unless the Nid'Qir have powers I don't know about, any curse that kills me will kill you, too."
The man's face colored. "Of course. I might be handsome, but I'm not very smart. Actually, I think that's why the women like me so much." S'Doryn and a few of the others chuckled.
U'Selle, though, appeared still to be deep in thought. "An alliance then," she finally said.
S'Doryn felt himself grow cold. "What?"
She looked at the peddler. "What was it the eldest said? 'The Mettai have never had any dispute with the clans or the sovereignties, but others in my position might feel differently.'"
R'Shev nodded. "Yes, that's about right."
U'Selle passed a rigid hand through her hair. "They asked him to join their army, and he refused them. That's the explanation that makes the most sense."
"But if he refused-" Y'Bej began.
"The man was right," U'Selle said. "There may well be others who won't refuse, who'll take whatever the Eandi are offering and fight on their behalf."
"The Fal'Borna have fought the Eandi before and won," said another member of the council. "We can defeat them again."
Several of the others nodded.
After a moment U'Selle nodded as well. "That's true. But it's been many centuries since we had to fight both Eandi warriors and the Mettai. Of course we'll prevail," she added a moment later, offering a smile that clearly was forced. "I just don't want any of you thinking this will be easy, because it won't." She stood again. "That's all," she told them. "I intend to begin speaking with other a'laqs tonight. Whatever advantages the Eandi may think they have, surprise won't be one of them." She turned to the peddler. "Thank you for that, R'Shev."
The other members of the council stood as well and began to file out of the a'laq's house, all of them pausing to thank R'Shev. Eventually, only S'Doryn and the peddler were left with the a'laq.
"I have no heart for this fight," U'Selle said, looking at S'Doryn. "I always knew that the Blood Wars would begin again eventually, but I hoped and expected that I'd be long dead when they did."
"K'Pril was right, A'Laq. We've defeated them before."
"The Mettai didn't fight beside the Eandi during the last few hundred years of the wars. But when they did, earlier on, they were… a formidable enemy. We lost many more of those early battles than we did the later ones."
S'Doryn wasn't certain what to say.
She smiled at him, and this time the smile appeared genuine. "Go home, my friend. Your fish will be cold by now, that is if T'Noth left any for you."
"He better have." S'Doryn started toward the door, but then stopped in front of R'Shev and held out a hand, which the peddler took. The man had a strong grip. "Thank you," S'Doryn said. "You may well have saved our village."
R'Shev shrugged. "I'm Qirsi. We may be of different clans, but we both have yellow eyes; we both have white hair."
S'Doryn nodded and smiled.
"S'Doryn," U'Selle said, as he reached for the door handle. "You can tell N'Tevva, of course. And T'Noth as well. Tidings like these…" She shook her head. "Everyone in the village will know by sunrise."
"Yes, A'Laq. Thank you."
S'Doryn had to pass T'Noth's house in order to get back to his own. Walking past his friend's home, he saw a lamp burning in one of the windows. It wasn't surprising really; he'd been gone for a long time, and T'Noth would have needed to put Etan to sleep. After a moment's hesitation, he walked to his friend's door and knocked once.
T'Noth opened the door, a grin on his face. "I was hoping you'd stop by. Come in."
He shook his head. "I can't stay long."
"You'll be glad to know that we saved you some trout. It was very good, by the way."
"Good. Thanks for not eating it all."
T'Noth narrowed his eyes. "Something's troubling you. What's happened?"
"It's a longer story than I can tell you tonight, but the short answer is that the Eandi appear to be marching against us, and they may have at least sonic Mettai on their side."
His friend stared at him, looking as if he had just been punched in the gut. "Damn. You're certain about this?"
"There's no doubt that the Eandi are coming. The part about the Mettai…" He hesitated. The truth was they weren't certain. But S'Doryn had little doubt that U'Selle was right about why the Eandi had gone to Kirayde. "There's not much doubt about that either," he finally said.
"What are we going to do?" T'Noth asked.
"U'Selle will talk to other Weavers tonight. And tomorrow every Fal'Borna in the clan lands will begin preparing for war."
He gripped his friend's shoulder and then walked away, suddenly eager to be home with N'Tevva and his girls.
N'Tevva looked up and smiled when S'Doryn entered the house. As soon as she saw his expression, however, her face fell.
"What is it?" she asked.
He sat beside her and took her hand. And then he related all that had been said in the a'laq's home. After a time, as he continued to speak, he looked down at their hands because he couldn't bear to see the fear in her pale yellow eyes or the color draining from her cheeks.
For a long time after he had finished, she just sat there, shaking her head slowly. "They're mad," she whispered. "They must be. That's the only explanation that makes any sense. How else could they even consider such a thing?"
"They think we're weak," he said. "They think that the Mettai curse has left us vulnerable."
"Are they right?"
S'Doryn shrugged. "I don't know, N'Tevva. Truly I don't."
She laid her head on his shoulder. "I never thought I'd see this day." "U'Selle said much the same thing," he told her. "And I feel the same way. But maybe we've all been foolish to think it couldn't happen. The clans and the sovereignties have spent most of the past thousand years fighting one another. The history of the Blood Wars is the history of the Southlands. This peace we've enjoyed-that's the aberration. Instead of being surprised, we should be grateful it didn't happen sooner."
She looked at him with an expression of both surprise and despair. "Do you really believe that?"
He met her gaze and saw in her eyes how desperately she wanted him to say that he didn't. He looked away, shrugged. "I don't know. I don't want to believe it." He started to say more, but stopped himself.
N'Tevva stood. "You need something to eat. We saved some supper for you."
"All right," S'Doryn said. "I'm going to check on the girls first."
"Oh, they're asleep by now."
"I know. I just want to see them."
The door to the room Jynna and Vettala shared stood slightly ajar; Vettala still didn't like the room too dark when she went to sleep. Peeking in, S'Doryn saw that Vettala was sprawled on her side of their bed, her arms stretched above her head and her eyes closed. Jynna was still awake, though. S'Doryn stepped into the room and sat on the bed beside her.
"You should be asleep," he whispered.
"I heard you come in."
S'Doryn felt his stomach tighten.
"I heard what you were talking about, too."
He closed his eyes for a moment, cursing himself for being so careless. "Jynna-"
"Just tell me we'll beat them," she said.
Almost since the moment she arrived in Lowna, Jynna had been closer to S'Doryn than to anyone else. She loved N'Tevva-he knew she did-but he was the one she trusted most. He'd been with her when she first told the a'laq and the clan council of the Mettai witch who brought the cursed baskets to her village. He'd been with her when they returned to her village and found her home destroyed, her family dead. And since she'd been living here they'd been nearly inseparable.
The only point of contention between them had been the Mettai. He had tried to make her understand that the woman who brought the plague to her village was insane, and that she couldn't hate all the Mettai for what this one madwoman had done to her.
But what could he tell her now? If the peddler was right, the Mettai really were their enemy, just as Jynna had been saying all this time. And he and his people would have little choice but to defeat the dark-eye sorcerers and the Eandi who marched with them.
S'Doryn brushed a strand of white hair from the girl's forehead and then bent to kiss her cheek.
"We will beat them," he said. "I swear it."
She nodded, her face so grim that she looked more like a seasoned warrior than a little girl. He saw no fear in her gaze, no hint of the terror that gripped his own heart. All he could see in those bright golden eyes was her resolve and her hatred of the Mettai and the confidence of a child who didn't know any better than to believe a parent's promise.
Chapter 23
THE HORN, JUST WEST OF S'VRALNA
Wake up, Forelander."
Grinsa felt himself being shaken and he tried to shrug off the hand gripping his bad shoulder.
"Forelander! Grinsa! Wake up! Now!"
He opened his eyes. The sky above him was still dark. A few bright stars shone through a thin layer of clouds, which glowed with a faint pink hue from the setting moons.
It took him a moment, but he recognized the shadowy figure beside him as Q'Daer.
"What is it?" he asked, blinking his eyes, trying to force himself awake. "What's happened?"
"I've just spoken with the a'laq," the young Weaver told him. "We have to turn back. We have to return to the sept."
"Why?" Abruptly he was very much awake. "Are Cresenne and Bryntelle all right?"
"They're fine. But an Eandi army is marching this way." He appeared to glance back over his shoulder. "And it seems there are Mettai with them. War is coming to the plain."
"Demons and fire," Grinsa muttered. "E'Menua is certain of this?"
"Yes. He was contacted by another a'laq, who had heard it directly from the a'laq in Lowna, a village to the east. We don't know if the dark-eyes have crossed the Silverwater yet, but it's only a matter of time. The a'laq wants us back in the sept before the invaders reach them. And I want to be there, too."
Grinsa nodded. He still didn't think of himself as Fal'Borna, but his family was living in E'Menua's sept, and he had every intention of protecting them. "All right." He sat up and rubbed a hand over his face.
"What should we do about the Mettai?" Q'Daer asked, looking back toward their cart again.
Grinsa hesitated. He trusted Besh and Sirj more than he did any of his other companions, including Q'Daer. But if there really was a war coming, and if the Mettai had allied themselves with the sovereignties, he might have to rethink that trust. Just as he was ready to fight alongside the Fal'Borna, Besh and Sirj would no doubt choose to fight with their people.
"Forelander?" the Fal'Borna said.
"I don't know, Q'Daer. Everything they've done so far tells me that we have nothing to fear from them. But if all this is true…"
"I… I didn't tell the a'laq that we were traveling with Mettai," Q'Daer told him, gazing off to the east, where the sky was beginning to lighten. "If I had, he would have insisted that I kill them, or at the very least take them as prisoners. But since I didn't…" He shrugged. "If you think it best to let them go, we can do that."
Grinsa stared at the man, not bothering to conceal his surprise. "Why did you do that?" he finally asked.
Q'Daer shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. "As you say, all that they've done to this point tells me that they're not our enemy. I thought it was… the right thing to do."
Grinsa nodded. "I believe it was."
He stood and together they woke the others. Torgan demanded to know why they had roused him so early, but Grinsa and Q'Daer refused to answer until the Mettai had joined them. Once all of them were together, the young Weaver repeated the tidings he had shared with Grinsa.
By now a faint grey light was touching their faces and brightening the sky above them, so Grinsa could see how Besh's face blanched at word that there were Mettai marching with the Eandi. Sirj merely stood beside the old man, staring at the ground, shaking his head slowly.
"So what does this mean?" Torgan demanded. "What are you going to do with us?"
"I told you," Q'Daer said. "We're going back to the sept, and you're coming with us. E'Menua wants all his Weavers with him before the dark-eye army reaches the plain."
Torgan looked at Grinsa, but the gleaner refused to meet his gaze. He knew what the merchant was thinking. He'd been begging Grinsa to let him escape almost since the moment they left the sept. Now he'd claim that with the Qirsi and Eandi going to war, E'Menua was sure to execute both him and Jasha. For his part, Grinsa thought it likely, too, at least in Torgan's case. But though he had sacrificed a good deal to keep the merchant alive all this time, he still wasn't willing to endanger his family or jeopardize his own effort to win their freedom from the Fal'Borna in order to save this man.
"It makes no sense to me," Besh finally said, his voice hardly loud enough for Grinsa to hear. He looked at Sirj. "Why would any Mettai agree to such a thing?"
"Your people are Eandi," Q'Daer said, as if that alone was enough to explain it.
Besh shook his head. "Not really. Our eyes may be dark, but in other ways we have more in common with your kind than we do with the people of Stelpana or Aelea. We wield magic, and for that reason alone we're feared, even hated."
"But you haven't been treated much better by the white-hairs," Jasha said. "Even I know that much."
"Exactly!" Besh answered, his voice rising. "Both races have wanted nothing to do with us, and so we've wanted nothing to do with you. We had nothing to do with the last of your wars and we hoped that the rest of you would just leave us alone. And now some among us have decided to fight in a new Blood War? It makes no sense! None at all!"
"The dark-eyes would have offered land, perhaps gold," Q'Daer said. "They'd pay handsomely to meet our magic with yours."
"I don't care what they offered," Besh said. "The cost is too high."
"I agree with you," Q'Daer said. "But the fact remains that your people and mine are going to war. We have to return to our sept, but you don't. You should leave here. You should return to your village. You'll be far safer there."
"Wait!" Torgan said, his one eye growing wide. "You're going to let them go, but not us?"
"They killed the woman who cursed those baskets," Q'Daer said. "And an a'laq has named them a friend of all Fal'Borna people. They've earned their freedom and then some."
"And I haven't. Is that what you're saying?"
Q'Daer regard
ed him briefly, his expression mild. "Yes, I suppose it is. Gather your belongings," he told both of the Eandi, "and eat something. We'll be leaving shortly."
The young Weaver walked back to his sleeping roll. After a moment Torgan and Jasha turned and walked away as well, leaving Grinsa with the two Mettai.
"It seems we'll be parting company," Grinsa said. "I'm sure you're eager to be returning to your home, but I'm sorry we won't have more time together. I've enjoyed our conversations."
"As have I, Forelander," Besh said. "Perhaps once you've left the Fal'Borna you'll come to see how the Mettai live."
"Perhaps," Grinsa said, knowing that it probably wouldn't happen. "If there's to be war it wouldn't be wise for us to cross back into Eandi land."
Besh shrugged, seeming to concede the point. "No, it probably wouldn't be." He shook his head again. "I meant what I said before: This isn't like my people. I can't imagine what would make any Mettai fight for either side."
Grinsa didn't know what to say.
"We never did find a way to defeat Lici's plague," the old man went on a moment later. He turned to Sirj. "I don't suppose there's anything to be done about that."
The younger man shook his head. "Not unless you want to risk staying in Fal'Borna land."
"Don't," Grinsa said. "I admire you both for even considering it, but the Fal'Borna aren't to be trifled with."
"No, they're not," Sirj said. "Never mind our people, I'm not even sure why the sovereignties would do this."
"Blood and bone," Besh whispered.
Sirj looked at him. "What?"
"They're attacking because of Lici, because of what her plague has done.
"You don't know that," Sirj said.
But Grinsa could hear doubt in the younger man's voice. For his part, the gleaner thought that Besh was right, though it hadn't even occurred to him to wonder about this until now.
"You know how the last of the wars ended," Besh said, his voice bleak. "The Eandi wouldn't dare attack unless they knew that the Fal'Borna had been weakened. It has to be because of this pestilence Lici conjured."
Grinsa sensed where Besh was going with this. "You still need to go back, Besh. You can't risk staying here."