After a cold supper, the people gathered around the fire pit. Karsh didn’t know why they sat there when there was no fire, but it was their usual place of council in warm weather. In winter all their meetings were held in the dark lodge.
A chilly breeze blew down the valley, and Rose brought a woolen blanket and put it over Alomar’s shoulders. Weave held her baby, the youngest of the tribe, wrapped in a shawl. The rest sat waiting for Alomar to begin. He was not their leader, exactly. Karsh supposed Hunter was their leader, at least when it came to defending the tribe. And Shea was the leader as far as the gardens were concerned. He planned the planting and oversaw the harvest and preserving of the crops. Jem told each man when to stand guard. All the men had their own jobs, and each was respected for his knowledge and hard work. But Alomar, the white-haired, bent old man, held the place of honor at every council.
“Tonight we will speak of the future,” Alomar said, and there were murmurs of assent. “We feel fear and sadness because evil men have stolen one of our tribe. We must make decisions for the rest of our people and do what is best for all the Wobans.”
“We must retreat to the mountains,” said Rand.
Karsh stared at the elder in surprise. The tribe had come to the valley three years ago and had never talked of going back up into the mountains. Life in the mountains was hard. Corn would not grow, and the winter was much colder and longer. The Wobans had nearly starved the one year they spent the winter in the mountains. That was the year after they’d been driven out of their old home. A strong band of greedy men had come and taken over their village. The Wobans had suggested that they work and live together, but the newcomers wanted the entire place for themselves. Rather than fight, the peaceful Wobans had left, taking their children and bags of seeds with them. They left together, seeking a spot where they would not be uprooted again.
Hunter, Rand, and other men had scouted for months for a suitable new place to live. They had gone northward to avoid other hostile bands. The winter in the high country had decimated the tribe, and the women had begged the men to find a place where they could settle in peace.
At last, Hunter found this valley. It seemed perfect—far from any other tribes and beyond the boundaries of the old kingdom. It was far from town sites from the Old Times too. That was important because the people still feared the crumbling structures of the old towns and dwellings might harbor germs of the sickness that killed so many. Only on rare occasions did the Wobans explore such a place, and when they brought home things made in the Old Times, Alomar made them boil the items before using them. When they began to build the log and earth lodge, there were only nine men left, six women, and eleven children. They had lived here contented for three years, during which time Neal and Weave’s baby had been born.
“You want us to end this time of peace?” Jem asked.
“We do not end it,” said Rand. “The Blens end it. If we want our tribe to live on, we must retreat for a time. When the Blens are gone, we can return.”
“When?” Hardy asked. “Next year? Do we just give up all that we have worked so hard for to the first people who discover us?”
“That would be wiser than fighting to the death,” said Rand.
“We left our old village in the south to the Leeds. You want us to do that again?” Hardy sounded angry, and he leaned forward, scowling across the empty fire pit at Rand.
“You were a boy then,” Rand reminded him.
“I was old enough to fight.”
Alomar held up his hand. “Let us not quarrel. We have one purpose: to protect the Wobans.”
Rand nodded. “The Blens are upon us, and we all know the Blens are not like the Leeds. They are heartless. They would kill every one of us to have what we have.”
Hardy sat back, pulling in a deep breath. Karsh was surprised the young man still in his teens had spoken out so sharply in opposition to an elder, but Rand seemed unmoved by the exchange.
Alomar looked at Hunter. “What say you?”
“Moving to the mountains seems hasty,” said Hunter. He was a young man, but he was strong and alert. The Wobans depended on him for much of their knowledge of the outside world. “They took Feather, but they did not search about to find where she came from. They have probably rejoined the band we saw and will move on.”
Rand shook his head. “No doubt they told their fellows where they snatched her. The whole pack of Blens could come looking for her tribe together. They could invade this valley any time.”
Weave shivered, and Jem pulled his eight-year-old son, Bente, close to his side.
“If they had looked around, they would have found me.” Karsh realized he had spoken out loud. He clamped his lips together. It wasn’t polite for a child to speak in the council, although they were allowed to sit and listen.
But Alomar smiled at him kindly. “You had a terrible experience today, boy. I say for all of us, we are sorry that Feather was taken, and it was not your fault.”
“She’s my sister!” Karsh tried to hold back the sob that waited in his throat. He would not cry like a baby. “Please, please, won’t you help me find her and bring her back?”
Hunter, who sat beside him, put his arm around Karsh’s shoulders. “They are many, and they are merciless warriors. Karsh, we wish we could get her back, but at what cost?”
Karsh shivered. What if it were me? he wondered, but he already knew the answer. They wouldn’t come after me either.
“This tribe is already too small, and growing smaller.” Rand’s voice was hard. “We lost six in the hard winter, and another was killed in a fall last year. Now this girl was careless enough to be taken. We cannot go on losing our people. We ought to retreat until things are more settled.”
Karsh jumped to his feet. “She is my sister!”
Hunter pulled him back down. “Hush, boy. Be silent. We know your grief.”
“We don’t know that she is your sister,” Rand said, and his words were like icy water.
Karsh looked helplessly at Hunter, then at Alomar. “Of course she is my sister.”
“You don’t know that for certain.”
“Of course I do!” Karsh’s anger boiled up inside him. How could Rand say such a hurtful thing?
“Oh, be silent, you little wolf’s pup. Just because we found the two of you ragged urchins sniveling together in the forest doesn’t mean you’re brother and sister. You might just as well be brother to the lizard you caught yesterday.”
“Rand!” Alomar spoke with authority, and Rand sank back onto his mat. “You are too harsh with the boy,” Alomar said. “We will speak of this later, you and I.”
Karsh swallowed hard. It was true he and Feather were orphans, and the Woban people had found them and taken them in. But they had been with the tribe many years now, since Feather was about five years old and Karsh four. The Woban people loved them and had been a family to them. The adults treated them and the other orphans of the tribe as they would their own offspring. Rand was always a bit stricter and less loving with the children, but he had never spoken to Karsh in such a mean, frightening way before.
Hunter squeezed his shoulder. “Keep your tongue. It’s all right. Do not be afraid.”
Alomar looked around at them all. It was dark now, but the moon had risen, and Karsh could see each face in the circle plainly.
“We need to have all our elders here,” Alomar said. “Hardy, I know you stood the last watch, but if you would be so good as to relieve Shea, I need his voice on this matter.”
Hardy jumped up without comment and hurried from the camp.
“Now,” Alomar said, smiling patiently. “We all want to go on living in this peaceful valley. Rand is an elder, and he has seen much hardship, more than many of you younger ones. He knows how precarious our existence is. He sees a different way to keep the people safe. Not all agree, and that is all right. It is allowed for our men and women to speak their minds and to disagree.”
Karsh listened carefully as the o
ld man spoke because he knew he had much to learn, and the future of the tribe— including him—was about to be decided.
“Now one of our promising young people has been stolen,” Alomar went on. “We will miss her sorely and regret that we did not foresee the danger and protect her. We must be more watchful, or our tribe will cease to be.”
“We shouldn’t have let them go gathering without grownups,” Rose said, shaking her head. She was Shea’s wife and the mother of Cricket and Gia. Karsh knew that she felt a responsibility for all the tribe’s children, including him and Feather and the other orphans, Kim and Lil.
“It’s been quiet this summer.” Jem’s brow furrowed, as if he felt Rose was blaming him for not posting a guard while the children gathered fruit.
“Not a month ago we saw strangers riding beasts cross the river on the other side of the ridge,” Hunter said, and they all looked at each other uneasily.
“Horses,” Alomar said. “That was a tribe we have not met before. We thought it best not to reveal ourselves to them, and they moved on.”
Jem nodded. “They did not come near the head of the valley. I made sure they kept on and saw no sign of our people.”
“But still, we should have been more cautious with our young ones,” Alomar said.
“Most of the men were hunting today,” Jem reminded him. “I was guard for the village, and I thought the children would be close enough to be safe. I did not know they were going as far as the old lodge or that danger was so near.”
There was silence, broken only by a quiet sob from Gia, the daughter of Rose and Shea. No doubt she was thinking as Karsh was, It might have been me.
Shea slipped into his place beside Rose, and Alomar continued. “We all seek one thing, and that is safety. Our men will keep watch tonight. In the morning, if all is well, three men will go with Karsh to the place where Feather was taken and see if there is anything to recover. When they return, Jem and Hunter will scout the Blen camp and see if they are still at the same place or if they continued on their journey.”
Hunter nodded solemnly and said, “If they remain, we will get a count and try to discover if Feather is in their camp.”
A small beam of hope shone into Karsh’s heart. Perhaps they would rescue Feather after all.
“Do not endanger yourselves,” Alomar cautioned. “If you are seen, battle will no doubt follow.”
He looked at the others, and Rand nodded slowly. “It is good. But we should also prepare for flight or a siege.”
Alomar nodded. “What do you suggest?”
“Those left in camp tomorrow will begin hiding food and other supplies in the forest. We can make more sleeping platforms in the big pine trees, where they cannot be seen from below. We can build a fence deep in the woods where the goats and sheep can be hidden from the eyes of any who enter the valley.”
“It is wise,” Alomar agreed. “If we do not run, we must be ready to guard what we value. Women, keep all of our children close.”
The women nodded solemnly.
“And now,” Alomar said, “let us part in friendship and be ready to work on the morrow.”
Rand stood. “Be assured, I will do all I can to help preserve this people. I mean no dishonor to you or the memory of those lost.”
“That’s right,” said Shea, the third elder. “Even though we are a small band, we are a people bound together by love and respect. As your grandfather Wobert stood for King Ezander of old, we will stand for you and all the Wobans.”
Karsh swallowed hard. He loved to hear the stories of the old kingdom and King Ezander, the last ruler of the land. In Alomar’s stories, Ezander and his family were noble and good. The knights such as Wobert were stalwart and true. Together they had tried to guard Elgin from hostile outsiders while trading peacefully with lands that were friendly, and the kingdom was pleasant and prosperous for a time.
But then a darker time came, and the valiant ones had failed, even as Karsh had failed to protect Feather. A horrible plague had come into the land. Some said the wandering Blens brought it, and so the survivors hated the Blens. After many people of Elgin died, leaving the kingdom weak, King Ezander himself had succumbed to the sickness. And in that time of vulnerability, Elgin was attacked by a strong army from the west. Ezander’s young son, Linden, barely come to manhood, had resisted and been slain in battle. The old castle was occupied for a time by the enemy, but they had not stayed long either. The plague broke out again, and the castle and town around it were abandoned. So said Alomar. Karsh believed him.
Since those vague, early memories of wandering, cold and hungry, with Feather until the Woban hunters found them, Karsh’s only knowledge of the past came through Alomar. What the elder had learned from his father, Womar, and what Womar had learned from his father, Wobert, was now the heritage of their tribe. The old names were revered, and the tragic nobility of Ezander, Linden, and their followers was honored. But there was no king in Elgin now nor any hope of a true heir to the throne. Wobert had gathered the people left alive in his village and led them to a safer place, and the people had learned to govern themselves in small bands.
Now they all said good night to the elders and went to their shelters to sleep. Hunter walked beside Karsh when they left the council circle. “You mustn’t throw yourself against an elder like that.” His expression was troubled in the moonlight, but not unkind.
“I know,” Karsh said, “and I’m sorry. Should I tell Rand I am sorry?”
Hunter sighed. “Rand lost his family many years ago when his village was raided. He is angry to see a member of our tribe lost in this way. Don’t let his manner fool you. He cares about Feather. He cares about all our people, even you. He is a cautious man now, but sensible. And he is right. If we are not going to run away from the Blens, we need to be ready to hide our young ones while we men fight.”
Karsh wondered if Hunter was including him in the men of the tribe. He decided not. So far he was always considered one of the children. Perhaps this year he would be allowed to go with the men on the fall hunt. He had been practicing all summer with a bow and a sling, and he was becoming a fair shot. He had killed two squirrels with the bow.
They reached the brush shelter Karsh shared with the single men during summer. Hunter left him and turned back toward the fire pit. Karsh ducked through the doorway. Jem and Bente were there already, settling down to sleep.
“Don’t let Rand upset you,” Jem said. “He is getting old and can’t hunt any longer. His bones hurt him too. That makes him cross.”
Bente laughed at his father’s words, but Karsh was not comforted. He lay in the darkness on top of his elk hide robe, peering out the opening. He could see a few stars above the hills. Could Feather see them too?
She was his sister. He knew it in his heart even if no one could prove it. And if no one else would go after her, he would. It was his job as her brother. In the darkness, he made a vow. If it took the rest of his life, he would find her and bring her back.
Chapter Three
Feather was quick to learn to avoid blows.
She was kicked awake in the morning, then prodded about the Blens’ camp, yelled at, ordered to do chores, and struck twice for being too slow. After that she stayed away from the people whose faces wore the angriest expressions, and she dodged quickly whenever she saw an upraised hand. She discovered early that her knife was gone from her pouch though the paper Karsh had found was still there.
She fetched water from the stream and firewood from the edge of the nearby forest. She would have considered diving into the woods and losing herself, but she was tied to a foul-tempered Blen woman by a ten-foot cord while fetching the fuel. That made it harder to duck blows, but the woman tried to hit her only once. After that their arms were busy carrying their loads of wood. The woman continued to harass Feather by jerking on the cord whenever Feather stretched it taut as she reached for sticks.
When they returned to the cook fire near the stream, the woman untied the
cord. Feather rubbed the sore place it had made around her waist, but there was no time to think about her discomfort. Orders were barked at her, and Feather realized she was now the slave of nearly forty filthy, peevish people. All of them seemed to have needs for her to fulfill. There were two others who seemed to be captives as well: a thin, cringing man and a hard-mouthed girl not much older than Feather. But even these two treated Feather with disdain and tried to put their own chores off on her. Yes, Feather was definitely the lowest of the low in this band.
She looked often back in the direction they had come yesterday, trying to memorize the features of the terrain, but she dared not linger too long about it. Someone would smack her shoulder and scream, “Work, you lazy girl!”
Before she had completed all the tasks they set her, the Blens were breaking camp. Feather had received no breakfast. She had been hauling skins of water when the others swarmed the food, and when they had moved away, there was nothing left but crumbs. She hesitantly approached a woman she had earlier seen tending the cook fire.
“Please, I am hungry.”
“You’ll have to fend for yourself.”
“But I’ve been working hard. Is there nothing left to eat?”
The woman frowned and reached inside the leather bag she was packing. “Here!” She threw a piece of dried fish the size of Feather’s palm to the ground at her feet. “From now on, come around when the others are eating.”
The people were gathering up their packs and bundles. The leaders had already moved out, following the stream. Feather looked again toward the forest, wondering if she had any chance of reaching cover without being noticed.
“You! Girl!” The man who had captured her snarled at her. “Don’t be thinking of it. You belong to the Blens.”
Feather swallowed hard. She turned to follow the others. “Pick that up!” the man screamed.
She turned in surprise. He was pointing at a pack on the ground. Slowly she walked toward it. She tried to lift it by one strap, but it was too heavy. She looked up at the man, afraid he would strike her if she refused to carry the burden.
Feather Page 3