Bloodstone (80 page)

N
IONIK ARRIVED AT the hut shortly after dawn to tell them he wanted the council to meet immediately. “I know you’ve only just returned, but it would be better to deal with this matter at once.” Darak agreed; the sooner the council could settle things, the better.

Griane fussed over them while they dressed, as if their appearance could possibly determine the outcome of the meeting. “Just tell the truth,” she advised them. “They’ll believe you. And mind your temper, Darak.”

“My—?”

“You’re going to hear things you won’t like, and it won’t help matters if you start snapping at the council members.”

“I don’t snap.”

“Nay. You shout.” She smoothed his braids, brushed a speck of oatcake off his tunic. When he captured her fluttering hands, she went still. He waited for her to look up at him, watching the color rise up her throat to stain her cheeks. Finally, the blue eyes lifted and she gave him a tremulous smile.

He smiled back and pulled her close. Last night had confirmed their love, but the shadows were still there. In time, it would grow easier. In time, he would stop tormenting himself with images of Fellgair smiling at her, stroking her hair, touching her body. The Trickster might have been content to make her choose between her husband and her son. He might not have demanded anything more.

His arms tightened around Griane.

“Darak. I can’t breathe.”

He released her. He even managed to laugh as she shooed them out of the hut. “We’ll be waiting,” she promised. “Unless I decide to sneak over to the longhut and listen outside.”

“Can we?” Callie asked.

“Nay! I was teasing.”

“It won’t help matters if your mam charges into the council meeting like a mad bullock.”

Griane punched him. He grabbed her fist and kissed it. Hircha smiled along with the children. Only Keirith’s smile seemed unnatural, as if he sensed the undercurrents. With an effort, Darak thrust aside those concerns; today, all his energy must be focused on the council meeting.

The rest of the elders were gathered in the longhut when they arrived. They all nodded politely and tried not to stare at Keirith. Darak chose a place next to Muina, and Keirith sat down beside him. Elasoth nodded to him and he nodded back. He was a natural choice to join the council. All of Elathar’s boys were good, steady lads, although Elasoth had always seemed shyer than his younger brothers. He didn’t know whether that would hurt Keirith or help him.

Nor could he predict how Lorthan would respond to their revelations. Ennit’s uncle was a sweet, soft-spoken man, but easily swayed by the opinions of others, especially Strail who never hesitated to speak his mind.

Ifrenn’s presence was a blow. Darak had counted on Sanok’s support and had been shocked to learn how feeble he’d become. To his shame, he had not even noticed Sanok’s absence on the beach, but he promised himself that before the day was over, he would visit him.

“Darak. Stop daydreaming and answer the girl.”

He looked up to find Nionik’s daughter leaning toward him, a waterskin cradled in her arms.

“Thank you, Oma.” He held up the cup, eyeing her swelling belly. “Not long now.”

She straightened, one hand on her back. “By the full moon, Mother Griane says. Elasoth swears it’ll be a boy from the way he kicks.”

“What do men know?” Muina shook her head dismissively. “Use the needle on a thread, child.”

“I did. It swung round and round no matter how many times I did it. Another girl for sure.” With a sigh, she continued around the circle. Elasoth looked flustered when she poured his water; obviously, this was his first council meeting and he wasn’t sure how to behave.

Nionik had no such reservations; he kissed Mirili’s cheek and thanked her for the basket of oatcakes. As soon as she and Oma departed, he called for silence.

“The first order of business is to ascertain that it is, indeed, Keirith’s spirit inside this man’s body.”

“Good gods, why would I make that up?” Darak exclaimed. “Do you think I’d pass off some stranger as my son?” He subsided under Nionik’s quelling stare. The council had barely begun and already he’d forgotten Griane’s warning. “Forgive me. I just never expected a test would be required.”

He saw the panic in Keirith’s eyes as he rose. Saw, too, how quickly he suppressed it. Gortin rested his hands lightly on Keirith’s shoulders and closed his eye. For the first time, Darak was grateful for his limited gift; Struath would have sensed the remnants of the Zheron’s spirit immediately.

Two deep creases formed between Gortin’s brows. His eye flew open.

“What is it?” Nionik asked.

“Nothing. This is Keirith.” The tremor in Gortin’s voice was plain. “His spirit . . . has changed . . . but it is Keirith.”

“Changed? How?”

“A man’s spirit is not fixed. It reflects the things that happen to him. The joys he has experienced. The suffering he has endured. Keirith’s spirit has endured . . . a great deal.” Gortin bowed his head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Keirith’s hand came up to cover Gortin’s. Even hard-bitten Ifrenn seemed moved.

Nionik waved Gortin and Keirith back to their places. “We must now decide whether the Holly Tribe should be invited to share our deliberations.”

This time, he managed to keep his voice level. “The Holly Tribe?”

“Morgath was brought before the combined councils for casting out the spirits of animals. Keirith—by your account, Darak—has cast out the spirit of a man. There is a precedent.”

He resisted the urge to shout, “Damn the precedent!” Instead, he asked calmly, “Will Keirith get a fair hearing from the Holly Tribe? The elders hardly know him.”

“Forgive me, Memory-Keeper, Oak-Chief . . .” Elasoth glanced around the circle uncertainly.

“Go on,” Muina ordered. “You’ve as much right to speak as anyone else.”

“I just thought . . . since the elders of the Holly Tribe don’t know Keirith, they would not be swayed by sentiment.”

“What’s wrong with sentiment?” Lisula demanded. “We are surely judging not only the act but the man who committed it. We who know Keirith best are best able to judge his character.”

Elasoth wilted visibly. The rest of the council began debating the point until Muina interrupted. “If you call the elders of the Holly Tribe in, you might as well take the boy to the heart-oak now and have done with it.”

“They’re not fools,” Strail rumbled. “Well, most of them aren’t. Can’t say I think much of their new chief.”

Ifrenn hawked a gob of phlegm into the fire pit. “He’s a sanctimonious stick. How else could he have lived with my sister for so many years? She’s so pious, she pisses honey.”

Nionik cleared his throat. “Your point, Strail? About the Holly Tribe.”

“Oh. Aye. Just that wise men—women too, I suppose—would keep their minds and ears open and not rush to judgment until they’d heard the whole story.”

Muina’s voice overrode Lorthan’s murmur of assent. “As soon as they hear Morgath’s name, Keirith is a dead man.”

Darak flinched, but Keirith accepted the brutal words without changing expression.

“I agree with the Grain-Grandmother,” Gortin said. “It’s too easy to draw parallels between Keirith’s power and Morgath’s without taking into account their natures.”

“A good point,” Lorthan said.

“Besides,” Muina added, “this is our business. Must we run to the Holly Tribe every time we have a difficult problem to resolve? Bad enough that we have to discuss how many fish we can take from the lake and whether a hunter can cross the river in pursuit of a deer he’s stalking.”

Gods, she was clever. The two councils had argued both issues only this spring and there was still a good deal of acrimony about the outcome of that debate—especially among hunters like Ifrenn and Strail.

“Is there any more discussion? Then I call for a vote. Those in favor of inviting the elders of the Holly Tribe to our council?”

“Nay,” Elasoth said loudly. Lisula leaned toward him and whispered something. “Oh. Forgive me, Oak-Chief.”

“Never mind,” Muina said. “Despite Nionik’s vote-calling and all-in-favoring, we’re not very formal here.”

“All in—Does anyone wish to invite the elders of the Holly Tribe? Fine. Then we’ll settle this matter ourselves.”

Darak breathed a quiet prayer of thanks to the Maker and another to Muina. The first battle had been fought and won.

Muina poked his knee. “Control your temper,” she whispered.

“I’m trying. But it’s hard—”

“I don’t care how hard it is. If you start arguing with everyone, you’ll condemn the boy as surely as the Holly Tribe. Forgive me, Oak-Chief,” she said in a normal voice. “I was reminding Darak of his manners.”

Good-natured chuckles greeted her remark, as much over his discomfiture as Muina’s bluntness. He couldn’t risk alienating the council members, especially Ifrenn and Strail; they had always been jealous of his hunting skills. Keirith’s fate could be determined by such personal issues, no matter what Strail said about wise men who would keep their minds and ears open.

For the rest of the morning, he kept his mouth shut. Keirith gave his account of what had happened in Pilozhat and answered the exhaustive questions that followed. Darak had insisted that neither of them reveal his part in Urkiat’s death. It was one thing to cast out the spirit of an enemy, another to attack a child of the Oak and Holly.

When it was his turn to speak, he simply supported Keirith’s story, taking care to emphasize the Zheron’s determination to destroy them both. He also told them how Keirith brought Hua back from the brink of death. His words provoked shocked exclamations and dozens of new questions for Keirith to answer. Darak had been certain the story of Hua’s reclamation would show the elders that Keirith could use his power for good, but while Lisula proclaimed it a miracle, the expressions of the others ranged from doubt to awe to fear.

By midday, the questioning was finally over. “Thank you for appearing before the council,” Nionik told Keirith. “And for your thorough, honest answers. We’ll excuse you now so we can consider what you’ve told us. Before you go, is there anything you’d like to add?”

Keirith rose. “I just want to thank the elders for hearing me. And to say that I’ll abide by your decision.” He hesitated a moment; for the first time, he looked uncertain. “I don’t know why I have this power. It’s not something I wanted. It . . . scares me. I understand how a man . . . like Morgath . . . could abuse it. Maybe I have, too. I don’t know. But if I had to choose—if I could go back to that moment when the Zheron attacked us—I would still cast him out. He meant to torture my father, strip away pieces of his spirit until he was mad.” Keirith looked down at him. “I didn’t tell you before. It was after you had . . .”

“Fled.”

“Nay.”

“I fled! When the Zheron attacked, the great Spirit-Hunter hid and left his son to fight for him.”

“You didn’t know how to fight him! I did. And when he was close to breaking me, you came back. Without you, I couldn’t have defeated him. He would have cast out my spirit and then he would have found you and taken you apart piece by piece. I couldn’t let him do that. That’s what I wanted to say. To all of you. My father is the bravest man I’ve ever known. And I couldn’t let the Zheron destroy him.”

Keirith placed both hands over his heart and bowed very low to him. The gesture stunned Darak. Similar to the genuflection Malaq had made when they parted, it was, at once, utterly foreign and completely natural. The others would see it and wonder if this was evidence of the changes Keirith’s spirit had undergone.

He wanted to embrace his son, to tell him how proud he was of him. Instead, he rose and offered the same genuflection to Keirith. One by one, the other members of the council got to their feet. They remained standing until Keirith left the longhut.