by Claudia King
Once he was far enough away that he could no longer hear the men chasing him, he rose up on his hindquarters and looked back. The shock of seeing how distant the temple had grown stunned him for a moment. He'd gone all the way past the farms, leaving him alone on the plains with silence behind him and a thinning expanse of scrub ahead. He'd be out in the open if he went any farther, but there was no one out here to see him anyway. The land this side of the hill wasn't fertile enough for farming, and it had been stripped clean of useable wood long ago.
Circling back around, Kale began to approach the southern side of the hill again. If Caspian and Fern had escaped from the temple they would have needed to climb down somewhere, and their scents would be fresh.
With growing anxiety he saw a string of dark shapes moving in the distance. As he drew closer he made out the glint of metal speartips. A party of perhaps a dozen warriors was making its way around the base of the hill, no doubt looking for the same thing he was. Kale pressed his body low to the ground and tried to stay out of sight, using the scrub as cover. There was no way for him to approach the hill while the warriors were there, and they would be able to complete their circuit much faster than him. He just had to pray that Caspian and Fern had already made their escape.
By the time he'd gone half way around the hill a second group of men had appeared from the opposite side, but from the look of them they were still searching fruitlessly. His worry lessened somewhat. At least the temple warriors had not caught his companions, but they might still be hiding somewhere on the hillside. That would be clever of them, to wait until nightfall before climbing down, but there would surely be warriors searching the top of the hill as well, and they would know all of its nooks and crannies far better than a pair of strangers.
The light was beginning to fade by the time Kale's sensitive nose picked up a scent he recognised. It was fresh, and it prickled his fur with a predator's instinctive hunger. Blood. As much as he hated his wolf's ravenous reaction to it, he allowed the animal's intuition to guide him. Hunters of the Sun People often spent many years perfecting their craft as they learned to recognise the faintest trails left by their quarry, but as a wolf it came to him almost as naturally as breathing. All he had to do was move his head to tell where the scent was weaker or stronger, creating an invisible thread that guided him forward. The droplets of blood in the undergrowth were so small that he doubted he would've noticed them without the smell.
Having spent so little time around Caspian and Fern back at the den he could not recognise their scents from memory, but a wolf and a man had definitely passed by this way. It could be no one else. They'd moved swiftly, but carefully enough to make tracking difficult, taking advantage of the sun-hardened mud to leave as few tracks as possible.
Kale grew more confident as the sun went down, trusting his nose to guide him faster and faster until, shortly after dusk, he caught sight of something up ahead. He was a long way to the south of the temple by now, probably as far from the villages as a person could get within the heartland plains. Soft firelight glows marked a handful of settlements in the distance, but they were a long way off. The trickle of a stream reached his ears, and as he drew closer he recognised the shape in front of him as the crook of a dead tree, its spindly trunk snapped three quarters of the way down. At its base sat a clump of shadows. He sensed one of them moving, and, reverting from the shape of his wolf, he cupped his hands to his mouth and called out as loud as he dared: “It's Kale.”
“Kale!” a voice hissed back. A moment later Fern was hurrying out of the darkness toward him. Kale shivered without his coat of fur, remembering how cold the plains could be at night when there was no undergrowth to catch the wind. Fern took him over to the tree where Caspian sat with his eyes closed and his back against the stump. Blood and dust covered his body, but he was breathing. The sight of two nasty cuts around the base of his neck made Kale wince.
“He's got a neck of stone, that one,” Fern said wearily. “I'm glad you got away. Did you manage to find the others?”
The pair of them huddled down next to Caspian as Kale explained what had happened. His story did nothing to ease Fern's agitation, and by the end of it she was shaking her head in dismay.
“How can we leave them there? Why would Adel want to stay behind?”
“She wants to make friends of the Sun People,” Kale explained. “I don't think she'll be persuaded otherwise. I've never heard her sound so determined about anything.”
“But if their Dawn King is dead, what hope is there? They will blame us for it.”
“I don't know,” he said dejectedly. “I don't like leaving them either, but I think Adel is right. We can't do anything to help them now.”
“There must be something.”
Surprising both of them, Caspian murmured, “They know our faces. We can't go back.”
“You should be resting,” Fern chastised him.
“Not for much longer. We need to keep going. We've no food or waterskins.”
Kale reached for his belt, but the waterskin and carrying pouch he'd gotten in the village were no longer there. He must have lost them when he took the shape of his wolf. If there was a way for Moon People to drag such heavy belongings into their bodies when they changed shape, he did not yet know it.
“We can hunt as we go,” he said.
Fern shook her head. “Not in these lands, and not with Caspian like this. We've found a few small animals here and there, but there are no herds besides the ones the Sun People keep.”
Kale realised that they were right. There was good hunting to be had in the heartland plains, he knew that from experience, but only in the right areas, usually far away from the villages. Beasts often stayed away from the farms, and settlers killed or drove off packs of wild animals that came too close. Here in the middle of the plains they were unlikely to find anything.
“We don't know how to hunt these animals anyway,” Caspian said. “When we tried before it took us so long we could barely travel. We need food we can take with us, and something to carry it in. New waterskins. A knife.” He sighed wearily. “If we stay by this stream maybe we can stop to hunt and craft for a few days.”
“The temple warriors are searching for us,” Kale said. “I don't know how far they'll come, but we shouldn't wait.” Silence fell over the group as the wind picked up around them, blowing through Kale's clothing until he began to shiver. He wished he'd kept the hooded gown Liliac had given him. “What if we went to another village?”
“Most of them thought we were wild folk,” Fern said. “I don't blame them. Look at us.”
A desperate idea occurred to Kale, one that filled him with equal parts dread and excitement. “What if I brought you to my village?” The pair looked at him dubiously, but he pressed on. “Netya and I found hospitality easily enough on our way here. I know the Sun People and their ways. If I tell my family you are friends, they will gladly take us in.”
“Kale, if they learn what you are...”
“You don't have to worry about that,” he said impatiently. “You can leave as soon as you're fed and rested. We can get whatever supplies you need.”
Another pause. Then Fern asked, “How far is it?”
Kale tried to think back to the journey he'd taken to get to the temple village when he'd set out on his pilgrimage. “Maybe two days on foot, I think. Much less with our wolves.”
“We can't rely on our wolves,” Caspian said, “not when we start getting close to the villages again.”
“Still, it's not far,” Fern said. “We'd just need water and we could make it.”
Caspian fingered his wounds gingerly, then rubbed his eyes and looked at Kale. “If we go to your people, will you stay there with them?”
“I don't know,” he answered truthfully. “I don't know if I can.” The thought, which had brought him to the verge of tears so many times before, came to him with a strange sense of acceptance that night. He'd known since returning to the heartlands that
he wanted to go back home. The uncertain part had been the when and the how. Now that he had a reason for it, he felt as if he had finally turned to face something that had been pursuing him for a long time. Frightening though it was, the acceptance brought with it a great sense of relief. For good or ill, he was on the path to confronting that fear.
“Then Kale's village is where we'll go,” Caspian said.
“And then what?” Fern asked.
None of them had an answer for that.
—37—
Ambition
Thakayn's fingers traced the lines burnt into the thick roll of leather, entranced by the things it revealed to him. He couldn't believe that the priest who had recovered the map from the Moon People's bundle had wanted to burn it, believing the markings to represent some heathen curse. It was unfathomably fortunate that the map had found its way back here, even if the manner of its arrival all but confirmed Ilen Ra's death. Thakayn recalled his old friend showing him this same piece of leather close to two years ago, though the story it told had been very limited back then. At the time Ilen Ra had been travelling the heartlands, drawing out a representation of every village and settlement from here to the edge of the forest. He'd planned to continue the map on his next pilgrimage west, and it looked as if he had almost succeeded in completing it. The areas to the north and in the vicinity of the mountains were still vague, but the southern coast had been outlined in great detail. Thakayn saw the areas that designated the territories of the Moon People, and the wolf's head symbols that represented their dens.
With Ilen Ra's map he would be able to guide pilgrims quickly and safely on their journeys. Better still, he'd know exactly where to send them if he needed more captives. There was always the possibility that the seeress would not give him what he desired, and he needed to be prepared to find others to replace her. The woman might even try to escape now that Atalyn was dead. Jarek, frustrating as ever, had been quick in spreading the word that she and the other women were not to be harmed, but Thakayn was already making his own plans to get around that problem.
It had been four days since he killed Atalyn, and still no one suspected him. The high priest's spirit was bubbling with glee. At first he'd acted in a kind of dazed shock, still fearful that he might be found out. The escape of the Moon People had concerned him gravely, but the more time passed the more he realised that his worries were unfounded. None of them had actually seen what happened in the audience chamber, and if they returned, who would believe them? The seeress? Even if they somehow managed to make their way back here, the temple guards would kill them on the spot. He suspected they were long gone by now, but he kept on sending out patrols to scour the nearby farmsteads all the same, making a great show of his efforts to bring vengeance upon Atalyn's killers.
Everyone looked to him for guidance now. He brought courage to those who respected him and inspired awe in the fearful. Even the unsightly cut he had given himself would be a mark of his heroism if it left a scar, and that made it bearable. These were good days for him indeed. He even nurtured a quiet confidence that he would be the one to succeed his cousin. A combination of subtle intimidation and the will of the temple at large would eventually coerce Eral over to his side, and Radeen-Na might be swayed if Hasham could be made to look a fool while Thakayn acted courageously in pursuit of the Dawn King's foes. He'd never win Jarek's support, but that did not seem to matter much at this point. The sorry fool had lost all of his bite since Atalyn's death. Perhaps Thakayn would never again have to endure his childish japes in the conclave chamber. He was not going to lose sleep worrying over Jarek. The priest of the Son had only ever been Atalyn's favourite, and Thakayn had killed that old fool. Thakayn!
He grinned, slamming his fists upon the edges of the map in triumph. If he could do this, what else could he do? He'd never dared to indulge the idea that he might be able to kill any of his fellow high priests before, but perhaps he'd been too timid. If Jarek or Hasham ever caused him trouble again, why couldn't a knife find their throats the same way it had found Atalyn's?
Every moment of weakness and impotence Thakayn had ever felt seemed trivial now that his cousin was gone. Now he could make his plans without fear. If he moved swiftly—and so far he had—the temple might be his before the wet season. Mountain Sky had always been an easy man to bargain with, and Thakayn had been quick to offer lavish promises of treasures, weapons, and warriors to slay the priest of the Mother's old foes. In return Mountain Sky had offered not only his vote, but the services of two temple warriors from his home village, men who had been loyal to him first and Atalyn second. Thakayn had been impressed, for he'd never suspected that any of the temple guards might be persuaded to serve anyone other than the Dawn King. The other high priests would surely be aghast if they ever found out. Still, two men he could rely on to take his and Mountain Sky's instructions without question would prove incredibly useful. He would have to remind himself to make room for more of such men in the future.
He had just begun pondering what he might do with Adel and the others when a servant announced himself by calling in from outside his domicile.
“High Priest?”
“What is it?”
The man ducked in through the drapes and bowed. He looked nervous, as if unsure of whether he should be there or not. “High Priest, forgive me, but a number of families have arrived for audiences today.”
“And? No more have been allowed in than we instructed, have they? Have any of them caused trouble?”
The servant shook his head. “No, High Priest, but they did not come seeking the usual audiences. They wished to see the seeress.”
Thakayn glowered, his good mood suddenly souring. He rolled up the map and rose to his feet. “Why? She is not a priest. How do they even know of her?”
“Talk of her has been all over the village ever since she saved Genut by cutting off his arm. They say she was there when the Dawn King died as well, and that she tried to save him when the other priests could not.”
Thakayn seethed internally. The more people learned about Adel the more likely they were to guess at the truth, and if it became known that he'd been the one to have Moon People brought here... Well, that problem might go away too once the rest of Liliac's pilgrims were dead. He'd already sent warriors to track down the rest of them. There was no further need for secrecy now that Liliac had been shown to be a murderous traitor. No one would question the decision to have the rest of his followers killed. He might not even need to keep Adel alive once she'd told him the secrets of the Moon People's magic.
In the meantime, however, he did not want some cult springing up around the seeress. That would only make everything more difficult for him.
“I trust all of these families were turned away?” he asked.
“No, High Priest,” the servant replied nervously. “None of the other priests objected, and it is the laypeople's right to seek audience with anyone in the temple. Many of them are gathered in the feasting hall with her right now.”
“Curse that woman,” Thakayn spat. They should have been gathering to revere him. Was he not the one who had fought Liliac and bravely chased after two Moon People? Why was no one seeking his audience that day? He told himself that he was angry at Adel for making a spectacle of herself, but part of him was indignant that she might be sharing her coveted magic with the laypeople and not him.
Fuming, he tugged on his high priest's tunic and followed the servant out of the domicile, making straight for the feasting hall. An air of sombre lethargy had fallen over the temple since Atalyn's death, but today the place was humming once again, and despite having spread the word that fewer audiences would be granted from now on an enormous crowd had still gathered outside. Thakayn could hear their dull roar of conversation as he swept past the open gates and through to the feasting hall. Two families were dealing with priests at their usual tables, but the entire right side of the chamber had been cleared to make room for the group that had come to gather around A
del. The sheer impropriety of it shocked Thakayn, sending a twinge of nervousness down his spine. There were perhaps two dozen people clustered in a semicircle around the seeress. A young girl lay before her, and with Eral's aid she was feeling the bones of the child's back and applying hot stones wrapped in leather. This was a village shaman's healing work, not the sort of thing that should have been done in the temple.
Reminding himself of his newfound authority, Thakayn accosted one of the warriors who was watching the group and demanded that he explain himself.
“We are doing just as you said, High Priest,” the man answered bemusedly. “There are two of us here for each family. All of them were searched for blades before they entered.”
“This is not how audiences are conducted. Where are the other priests? Where are their tables?”
“There is no demand for them. All of these people came for the seeress. Since the Dawn King's death everyone fears losing their own loved ones, I think, so they want a healer's touch to ward off their ailments.”
“This is absurd,” Thakayn said, motioning to the other warriors in the chamber. Half of them were lounging like fools, as entranced by Adel's display as the laypeople were. “All of you! Put the tables back in place, and take her back to her domicile.” His voice was causing a stir in the crowd. Several people were looking at him now, but the guards hesitated. Presently, the reason for their disobedience made itself apparent. Jarek approached from the side of the group, making as if to usher Thakayn away quietly.
He stood his ground. “What are you doing, Jarek?” he demanded.
“Seeing to the needs of our people.” His tone was infuriatingly calm. “Why does it trouble you that they come for Adel? Aren't you glad you have more priests free to help you brush the Sister's hair?”