The Crow God's Girl (35 page)

“Who is within?” he asked the men. They glanced at each other. Tal and Strav. They were both stalwart soldiers who had served the house since his childhood.

“Lord Terrick, Colar. And your wife.”

Tied up or loose? But he couldn’t ask that. He just nodded and rapped on the door, then let himself in.

His father and Janye occupied opposite sides of the room in a kind of tense standoff. His wife had been crying. Her face was streaked with tears and her eyes were swollen. His father looked no less unhappy, but he only said,

“Success, then?”

Colar nodded. There was a pot of vesh steaming in a wrapped towel on the small table. He helped himself to a cup of the bitter spiced drink.

“May I go to my father now, Lord Terrick?” Janye’s voice was carefully neutral, but he knew she meant it to sting, that she would ask his father for permission rather than ask him. Before his father could answer, Colar shook his head.

“No,” Colar said. “We have some things to go over.”

Her eyes widened. His father looked between the two of them, then got up heavily. He left without a word.

Colar drank his vesh. He missed coffee, he thought suddenly. He wondered if there were some distant land where coffee could be found here in his home world. He could leave Aeritan behind, become a coffee trader, bringing the elixir to all the Houses.

And Kate would love me again.

Janye stood up, her fists clenched. “So what do you mean to do? Ravish me? You will buy your pleasure dearly.”

“What you said, about making sure I got Kenery. Do you still promise it?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her anger turned to surprise, and then to careful calculation.

“You agree to my offer?” she said.

He would be sleeping with one eye open for the rest of his life, he thought with bitter good humor. He wondered that no one had ever thought to ask how her last husband died.

“A few things, first,” he said. “When it comes to the heir of Kenery, the Council will decide, as it has done in the past, and you will be my lady Janye of Kenery.”

“The Council will not decide. My father–”

What she didn’t know was that as of that evening, the balance of power in Council had changed, when Lady Temia made her pledge to Trieve. He said only, “Let me worry about that. Secondly. We will start over. I hope to suit you, Janye, my wife.”

She was silent a long time. When she spoke, her voice was grudging, but she spoke the words anyway. “I hope to suit you, my husband.”

He set down his vesh and went over to her. He untied her kerchief and let her hair fall over his hands, then lifted her chin and kissed her. He didn’t expect her to kiss him back with any enthusiasm, but she went rigid under his attentions. Colar drew back.

“Why are you like this?” His frustration came out in his voice.

“I told you, Colar of Terrick. We don’t need to know everything about one another.” She was back to her usual tone, sardonic and sharp, but they stood so close that he could see that her hands were shaking.

What did she fear? She was a widow, she had to have lain with at least one man before. She had to know he would not rape her. What did she take him for? He felt a self-righteous anger. He was trying.

So, that was to be the way of it. He didn’t need to sleep with her anyway, not
until
it was time to get an heir. They would continue on as they had, and he would, in this Council or the next, be named Kenery’s heir, disinheriting her little brother. The Council had done worse to unruly lords, but it meant he would be living in a nest of vipers.

But that was his life now. It was time to choose, and not be chosen for. Kate was gone, turned into Lady Temia, and a stranger forever. He had his own life now, and had to make of it what he would.

Kate woke in her small tent, the gray light of early morning leaking through the musty fabric. Her pallet and blankets were clammy and cold and her nose was stopped up, as usual when she slept in a tent. She groaned and sat up.

She was alone. Grigar must have waited until she slept to go stand watch or find his own bedroll. Her face flamed again, both at the memory of his rejection and of the little kiss. What had she been thinking?

Well, it wasn’t important at the moment. She had to check on Ossen, change her bandages, see about getting food into her, and try to figure out how to get back to Temia alive, all of them.

She pulled on her trousers, making a face at the state of them, and her shirt and coat, forgoing her stays. She was about dressed when the tent flap opened and Grigar ducked in.

“How is she?” she asked, heat pinking her cheeks.

“Awake and in pain. Do you have more of the tincture?”

“I’ll be right there.” She sat on the bed and drew on her boots. Whatever it was, some kind of opiate was her best guess, it was probably lethal in anything but the small doses that Talios taught her. She didn’t want any of the crows trying to administer it. “You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long,” she said, daring to look at him. He looked uncomfortable too.

“We all slept.”

She couldn’t blame them. Yesterday had been a big day. She took a deep breath.

“About last night,” she started. “I’m sorry. Really, I didn’t–”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said. He was strained around the eyes but somehow it made him look younger, because it was all too much for him too. She put down her boot.

“I never thanked you for rescuing me,” she said. “Was it so awful–the malcra?”

He sat next to her, shoulder to shoulder, hands over his knees. “I guess now I can tell my brother I’m full-fledged crow,” he said. The dark bitterness made her want to run away from him. Instead she stayed put, hoping to lend him comfort.

“What is it really?”

“Madness. Foolishness. Our curse. To Balafray, our salvation.”

She remembered anger that sometimes took over, that made her boil over with rage at Lady Beatra, and the faint laughter that chased her when she spoke to the council of crows at Temia. General Marthen had said she had the soldier’s god in her, but what if that wasn’t it? What if it were the crow god?

“I think I have it too,” she said hesitantly, hoping he would say, no, of course not, and half-fearing it too. If she wasn’t Aeritan and she wasn’t crow, what was she? But this malcra was too high a price to pay.

He didn’t say anything right away, then nudged her with his shoulder.

“You mean last night?” he said.

She hadn’t thought about last night. She felt heat rise up into her face. To her great relief he didn’t laugh at her.

“That was not malcra, chick. That was your body’s response to madness and danger and fear. I’ve felt that need before; all who fight have.” He clasped his hand over hers, interlacing her fingers with his bigger hand. His grip was comforting, if not comfortable. She was about to tell him that it wasn’t what she meant when he went on, “And I should not have encouraged you. You’re Ossen’s age. That was wrong…”

Ossen’s age! Ossen was only fourteen. He thought she was a kid? Oh great, how much more embarrassing could this get?

“Look, let’s just forget it.” She pulled her hand free and stood up. He followed a beat later.

“Yes, let’s do that.” The relief in his voice was evident. Perversely, Kate felt a pang. No more intriguing kisses then. But this was better. Far better.

Kate followed him out of the tent. The small camp would be homey if they weren’t in such dire straits. Arlef had a small fire going, and vesh in the kettle steamed off to one side, and a pot of water boiled on the fire. The air was warmer outside her tent than inside, and unaccountably, she cheered up. She’d had enough sleep, the fog was burning off and the day looked to be fair, and Ossen was alive.

We might just make it, she thought, against her better judgment.

Ossen was more alert this time, but she was sweating in pain. Kate scooted next to her, and went to administer a drop beneath her tongue, but Ossen waved a weak hand.

“It will help with the pain,” Kate coaxed.

“I need a clear head,” Ossen said. “The k
idnappers were from Camrin, Kett
.”

“Ossen, you told us last night.”

“I didn’t kill him.”

Balafray sat down next to her. He took his sister’s hand. “She wants to talk, so let her. What happened?” he growled.

“Handed over the horse to Terrick, was followed by Camrin’s men. I tried to give them the slip, but they were cleverer than I thought.” Even in her pain she sounded so ashamed. Tears slipped from her eyes. “I couldn’t get away, Balafray. Couldn’t–”

Her brother growled something low and wordless.

Not now, Kate thought. They couldn’t have him go malcra now. Grigar put a warning hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“Who killed him?” said Balafray, shrugging him away.

“It was that high lord, Salt. He came in and saw–and he asked what Lord Camrin was about. He said–he said that Camrin almost ruined everything. I heard a loud noise, like a snap, only–and Lord Camrin was bleeding, but no one came in until Balafray and Arlef–” she broke off, crying.

Kate’s vision darkened. She wanted to dig up Camrin’s body and kill him all over again. And Salt. If this were malcra she could see the attraction. With an effort she bent over Ossen again, ignoring the brothers’ looks, especially Grigar’s.

“Take your medicine now,” she said. “Come on Ossen, I have to clean your bandages and it’s going to hurt.”

Ossen stuck out her tongue for a drop of the tincture and closed her eyes.

Even with the drug, it was still painful work. Kate worked swiftly to remove the crusted, oozing bandages and clean the wounds.

When she was done, she sat back on her heels. Ossen dozed in a chemical sleep. Arlef was outside, trying to recover from the sight of his sister’s injuries. They could hear him gagging.

“Good work,” Balafray rasped, but he might have been speaking to Ossen. He patted his sister’s hand.

“Now what?” Grigar said, his voice low so as not to wake the girl.

Kate cleaned off her hands with the rest of the hot water. The water was still scalding, and it stung her hands, but she didn’t care. If this was the only absolution she got, so be it.

“I have to go back,” she said. At their charged expressions, making even Grigar look more crow-like than usual, she just lifted her shoulders. “The House of Terrick needs to know who is at the back of the kidnapping attempt on Yare. And I will not let Camrin get away with hurting one of us.”

Arlef’s shout from outside was a sudden warning. They looked at each other and then were galvanized. Kate and the crows flung themselves outside the tent into the clearing.

They weren’t alone.

Lady Trieve, C
aptain Crae, and a hand of her soldiers waited for them, all horsed. Kate’s eyes flicked over to a fine chestnut mare whose saddle was empty.

“You are a hard woman to find, Lady Temia,” Trieve called out. She wore a resplendent midnight blue gown that draped over the side of her horse. Her pretty kerchief showed off curls around her forehead, and a fine boot peeped out from beneath the hem of her riding habit.

Kate took mental stock of what she was wearing–her once-fine clothes now covered in dirt, grease, and blood, her hair a mess–and just sighed.

“My lady,” she said. She gave a bow, equal to equal, and dared to glance over at the captain. His expression gave nothing away. Her crows stepped up next to her. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Well,” said Trieve. She glanced up at her husband and he dismounted at once and helped her out of the saddle, his hands around her waist. She shook out her skirts and faced Kate. “You might say a little bird told us where to find you. Most extraordinary, that crow king of yours. I wasn’t as impressed when he led the attack on my home, but now I see there’s something more in him.”

Kate quailed. What was the crow kin
g doing, interfering? Lady Trieve
looked Kate up and down. “You can’t come to Council looking like that, my dear. You pledged Temia to me and mine, last night. The least I can do–and I can do so very much more–is provide you with clean clothes.”

Kate looked at her, the captain, and Grigar and Balafray. Her crows lifted their shoulders in silent confusion.

“I am grateful, Lady Trieve,” she began cautiously. Lady Trieve smiled and shook her head.

“Crae was right. You have no idea what you did. Your pledge, on your knees, to my captain and husband, was accepted and must be returned in kind. We return to Council to make it a formal alliance. It is quite fortunate that you did it in front of a witness. He will vouch for it, the high god will seal it, and no one can stop it.”

What had she done? Kate looked in confusion at the captain, and then over at Grigar, but they were no help.

Lady Trieve took a step closer, and her hand in her fine glove closed on Kate’s grimy fingers.

What was the catch? There had to be a catch. Still cautious, Kate squeezed back.