I put out my hand and grabbed it by the back of the neck, gentle but firm as well. It snarled and feinted an attack, but I did not move. If I flinched, I would lose my arm to those dripping jaws. Once more, the dog whined and put its nose between its outstretched paws. Its tail twitched faintly.
Killdeer, who had been too stunned by this display to speak, suddenly roared: “Frostbite!” He took a step and clouted his dog across the head, sending it sprawling and yelping.
As though in a dream, I heard a shout. The next moment, an enormous red dog hurled itself into Killdeer. Snarling and screams rent the air. I would have screamed myself if I could, but instead I sat with my arms wrapped around Fairbird, struggling to get to my feet. Somehow I couldn’t make my limbs move. I saw the other four boys piling upon the red dog and Killdeer. Then Killdeer’s own lurcher flung itself into the fray, dragging the red dog away from its master. The other boys hastened to restrain their own dogs from joining the fight. Killdeer was too shaken from the attack to do anything, and I could see poor Frostbite getting the worst of the battle.
Another shout. I turned to see a young man I did not know emerge from the gorge. He cried out, “Bear!” and plunged into the tangle of fighting dogs without hesitation. He grabbed the red dog and, with strength I would not have thought possible, hauled the animal off of Frostbite. Then he whirled upon the other boys.
“Get away from here! Go!” he shouted, his face like thunder. He was older than they, though not by much. They looked at one another, calculating their numbers and trying to decide whether they ought to attack this stranger. “Do you want to fight me?” the stranger said, his voice menacing. He took a step toward the largest of the lads, one hand still holding his dog, the other forming a fist.
The boys fled, taking their dogs with them. All except Killdeer, sniffling like a child. He had forgotten Frostbite.
The stranger turned to me and Fairbird. “Down, Bear,” he said, and his dog immediately dropped to the ground, its eyes alert, watching its master. The young man, however, stepped over to me, and much to my astonishment, offered me a hand.
“This seems a fine beginning to my duty in Redclay,” he said. “A good brawl, a good service. A lucky omen, I wonder?”
I stared at his hand. The men of the village never put themselves out to help a woman unless their own woman is threatened in some way. Yet this stranger offered me aid! Embarrassed, I didn’t know which way to look.
Fairbird, however, felt no reserve. With a brilliant smile, she pushed away from me and took the stranger’s hand. He, with a shrug, helped her to her feet instead. Fairbird clung to him, swinging his arm back and forth, and beamed up at him, her brown, tear-stained face transformed from its terror. He grinned back at her, then turned and watched me as I picked myself up, brushed off my skirts, and quickly untied my sister’s lead.
The stranger looked me up and down. “Of course,” he said, his grin widening a little, “I should not be surprised. Boys that age are louts. They think tormenting a beautiful girl is the easiest way to catch her eye.”
I stared at him. For one thing, it was odd for him to refer to my attackers as “that age” when he could scarcely be much older. That superior tone did not suit my liking, or so I told myself. But his other words touched something inside me I had not known existed.
Beautiful?
I realized I was blushing and quickly looked away. I saw Killdeer’s lurcher lying on its side.
With a gasp, I hastened to the dog, my fluster forgotten for the moment. The poor thing was panting, its eyes rolling and its tongue lolling. I realized then that Frostbite was female. And she had flung herself at the great male in defense of a master she hated. My heart surged, and I put my hands on her with as much tenderness as I could, checking her hurts. A wound in her shoulder gaped and would need stitches, and one ear was almost completely torn off. I found myself angry that such harm had been done to this brave animal. As my anger had no other focus, I cast a dark glare up at the stranger.
But he, gently setting Fairbird aside, knelt down beside me. “Poor thing. She should have stayed away from Bear. He wouldn’t have hurt her owner, merely scared him as he deserved. Maybe a little more than he deserved. Bear is not one to turn from a fight.”
So it was her fault? I wanted to ask, my eyes flashing. It was just as well that I had no voice.
“Can you help her?” the stranger asked me next. “I am trained for battle and have no knowledge of healing. But if you know what to do, I’ll carry her to your home and assist you.”
The notion of walking back to the village with this stranger following me was somehow frightening. But I knew I would never get Frostbite home by myself. Biting my lip, I nodded. Then I got to my feet and swung Fairbird up onto my hip, keeping her well back while the stranger knelt and gathered the poor dog into his arms. Frostbite snarled and snapped, but he was no more afraid of her than I had been. She must have sensed something in him to trust. . . . That, or her wounds were too great. Either way, she relaxed in his arms. He spoke a sharp word to his dog, which rose to follow but remained a good many paces behind.
Then the stranger turned to me. “Lead on.”
Leaving the waterskins behind, I did as I was told. We were an odd procession, I with Fairbird in my arms, he bearing Frostbite, and the huge red dog pacing just behind. I was thankful that the Eldest’s House stood on the near side of the village and I would not have to lead the stranger through the center of town. As it was, I could not meet the eyes of those we passed, and they, rather than ducking away to be certain their shadows did not cross mine, stood and stared.
The stranger took no notice of this. His face was fixed, and he looked neither to the left nor the right. He spoke not a word until we began the climb to the Eldest’s House.
“Stop a moment,” he said then.
I obeyed and turned to look at him. His face had an amused expression, one eyebrow raised curiously. “This place cannot belong to any but the Eldest Panther Master,” he said, looking up at the house on the hill. There was no mistaking it. It was bigger by far than any other to be seen, set up high to oversee Redclay. Wherever the stranger came from, I was certain, no elders from his tribe lived in a house so grand . . . though this one housed only me, my sister, and the Eldest.
I nodded, though there was no need. He already knew he was right. “Are you a slave of the Panther Master?” he asked.
My father kept many slaves taken from the wars to work his fields. But they lived in small huts on the fringes of the village. None of them ever came near the Eldest’s House. I shook my head, raising my chin. Though a woman and a cursed woman at that, I was no slave.
“Are you then . . .” And here the stranger laughed shortly and shook his head. “You aren’t the Eldest’s daughter Starflower.”
I stared at him a moment, wondering what that laugh of his meant. Then I answered with a cool nod.
Here he tossed back his head and gave a real laugh, startling poor Frostbite so that she struggled in his arms. Adjusting his grip and clucking soothingly to the dog, he cut his laugh short. When he had quieted her again, he looked me up and down. I felt a bit like a fine cow he was considering buying. But his smile was warm.
“I am Sun Eagle,” he said, “son of Darkwing, elder of the Crescent People. I come in advance to Redclay to tell your people of Eldest Panther Master’s victories. The Crescent People are once more united to the tribes under his rule. In a month’s time or less, the warriors of the Crescent People will come to Redclay and pledge their spears to the Panther Master forever.”
Here he stopped, and his bold face wore, if only for an instant, faint traces of bashfulness.
“To seal the vows,” he said, “I am to wed Maid Starflower.”
3
EANRIN
GOOD CHOICE.”
The voice that spoke was near, Eanrin thought. But it was difficult to tell for certain in the blackness. There were other sounds here, many voices crying out in many lan
guages. Those were fainter, yet not necessarily far away. It was, Eanrin thought, as though the voices themselves were so small that they almost could not be heard. But his ears were quick, especially now when his sight was, for the present, smothered.
He tried to think. It was difficult in all this darkness, but he forced himself to stop and put at least a handful of thoughts together. The first was the realization that he was not falling. Or at least he didn’t seem to be. He wasn’t entirely certain that one could move at all in blackness this deep.
He also realized that his voice was one of those screaming.
This embarrassed him, and he immediately closed his mouth. What a faint, pathetic sound it had been. Certainly not worthy of the Bard of Rudiobus.
“Of course, in the end, there wasn’t another choice, was there?”
Oh yes! He’d almost forgotten. Someone else was here. Someone whose voice was much bigger than the tiny voices all around. Eanrin turned about, searching, but remained as blind as ever. What was more, though he could have sworn the voice had spoken right in his ear, he could not feel the sensation of a body near to hand or hear any sound of breathing. All his cat’s senses strained for some other indication of a presence. But there was nothing. Only those tiny screams that were too small to understand.
“You must choose your own way. Let no one else direct you! Choose your own way, and it will always lead you here.”
Eanrin didn’t tremble. He was a man of Rudiobus. He was not afraid. Instead, he asked, “Why are all those people shouting?”
“They are crying out for their rights.”
Eanrin took a moment to consider this. “What are their rights?” he asked at last. He could scarcely hear himself speak. But whoever stood beside him in the dark seemed to have no difficulty.
“To choose their own paths,” it replied. “To live their lives without obligation. To be the gods of their own worlds.”
Once more Eanrin considered. Then he asked, “Why are their voices so small?”
“Because I have given them what they demanded. I have allotted them worlds in which they may reign divine. And those worlds are small.”
“How small?”
“Very small.”
Eanrin tried to lick his lips. But the darkness was so penetrating, he couldn’t be certain he had a body anymore. Still, he wasn’t afraid. After all, nothing had happened yet to cause him any real alarm. He had fallen down a chasm, yes, but the fall appeared to be over, and he appeared to be unharmed. The darkness was thick, but it wasn’t as though darkness could actually hurt anyone.
Another thought finally formed in his brain. “Am I a god?”
The voice, which now seemed to be laughing, said, “Not yet. Your world is rapidly shrinking. Soon, it will have room for no one but you. Then you will be a god. Then you will not hear these other voices. In your world, there is room for you and no one else. In your world, you will reign uncontested.”
The words rang clearly, far above all the little voices. These were shrinking into a dull hum, though the smaller they got, the more violent they sounded in their incoherency.
“Wait,” Eanrin whispered. “When I am a god, will I be . . . alone?”
“Yes.”
The word pressed down upon him, crushing. Eanrin wasn’t certain that he had lungs, but if he did, they could no longer draw breath.
“When you are a god, you can only be alone.”
He wasn’t certain he had shoulders, but if he did, they were bowed under the weight.
“And yet who would not choose to be a god?”
He wasn’t certain that he had a heart, but if he did, it no longer beat.
A sudden light burst through the blackness.
The brilliance was painful to Eanrin’s unaccustomed eyes, but it proved that he was not blind, so he turned to it. How far away it was, scarcely more than a pinprick, but swiftly approaching. Against his will, his arms outstretched, but when he opened his mouth to speak, he found he had no words.
A rhythmic pace beat upon his ears. A loping gait, unhurried, unthwarted, deliberate as it advanced.
“He’s coming!” spoke the voice in the darkness behind Eanrin’s shoulder. “He will be upon you soon!”
“Who is coming?” Eanrin formed the words without sound. Shading his eyes, he strained to peer into that brilliant glare.
“Quick, take my hand!” Eanrin felt something touch him in the dark. He shuddered and stepped away, but the voice spoke with still more urgency.
“If you do not come with me, he will catch you, and you will lose everything! Everything you are. Do you understand me? So voracious is his appetite, he will devour you!”
“Who will?”
“The Hound!” hissed the voice, made small in its terror. “The Hound is coming!”
4
STARFLOWER
SUN EAGLE CARRIED WITH HIM my father’s name mark, a large red bead with a black panther painted across it. This he presented to the older men, those who were past the age for battle but who stood guard over the village while the fighting men were gone. Though the bead was certainly genuine, they remained uneasy with the presence of a Crescent lad. Until the Eldest and his warriors returned, Sun Eagle would know only uneasy hospitality in Redclay. Many cast him dark glances and even muttered threats when he passed by.
“Traitor’s son,” they called him.
To avoid as much unpleasantness as possible, he hid away in the most unfrequented quarter of the village: the Eldest’s House, home of the cursed children.
I was no more at ease in his presence than any other in my village, though for different reasons. But as the days passed, Sun Eagle proved himself a quiet, well-spoken young man. He seemed to sense my discomfort, and rather than take advantage of it as other young men might, he kept his distance.
I watched him as I went about my daily tasks, this stranger who, if he spoke the truth, was to be my husband. As an elder’s son, he did not assist me in any of the household work but spent much of his time whittling a new spear shaft or chipping away at a sharp rock to make the head. His movements were deft, and I could see that his work was fine. I had often watched my father go about similar tasks during the winter months. I thought Sun Eagle’s work perhaps equal to the Eldest’s.
Fairbird adored him. She was forever lingering in his shadow, frightened as a shy kitten if he looked her way but quickly warming the moment he showed any sign of friendliness. I, however, was less easily won.
One day, I sat in the yard tending to Frostbite’s shoulder. The poor dog was slow to recover and made nervous by the close proximity of Bear. But she had learned to trust me since the encounter by the stream, and I loved her. Not for any grace of temper or outward beauty on her part. She was a mean-spirited creature still, willing to bite my hand even as I fed her. And she was certainly no beauty with her shaggy gray coat and long nose. But I loved her. I loved her because no one else had, and she needed love more than she knew, poor beast. And as I tended her wounds, I poured that love through my fingers and hands, stroking her head and ears, willing her to take it in. It was a slow process, but within twelve days, I began to see a softening in her spirit as her longing for affection grew.
I could see Sun Eagle from where I worked. He sat in the shade cast by the house, concentrating on some project. I could not see what it was, only that it was not a weapon. It was difficult to discern more than that, especially while carefully pretending disinterest. So I smeared a soothing poultice on Frostbite’s mending skin and told myself that I did not care.
Suddenly I heard Sun Eagle laugh. I turned and saw my sister standing in front of him, a great smile on her face. He was hanging something around her neck. Even from that distance, I realized what it was: a name bead like my father’s, like the one my mother had made for me. Sun Eagle had carved it from wood and colored it with pigments.
Fairbird grabbed hold of the cord in order to draw the bead up to her face. Then she turned and ran to me, so excited I thought
she would burst with her need to laugh. Aware of Sun Eagle’s gaze upon me, I inspected the trinket. It was fine work, especially for a young warrior in training. The dyes were simple, the background a burnt orange, and the figure of a bird done in rich brown. It looked like a songbird, I thought, though it was too small for any detail.
In Fairbird’s eyes, it was the most glorious of treasures. So I smiled at her pleasure, signed for her to tuck it inside her doeskin shirt or it might get scratched. She nodded, then ran off with it still clutched between her small brown hands, unwilling to hide it away just yet.
Frostbite whined and pressed against my side. Sun Eagle’s shadow fell across us.
“I saw that she had no name mark,” he said. Then he crouched before me and gently stroked Frostbite’s head. The lurcher trembled but allowed the caress for a few moments before backing away, growling. It would take her time to become used to gentleness. Sun Eagle withdrew his hand, resting his elbows on his knees where he crouched. “Tell me, Starflower,” he said, “is your sister truly cursed as they say?”
I hardly knew how to answer. I could shake my head no, but what good was my word against the word of the village men? So I remained still, looking at him, letting my answer rest in my face. Does she seem a curse to you?
He narrowed his eyes, then turned away, gazing down the hill to the village. “They say you’re cursed as well.”
Who would want a cursed bride?
I picked up my herbs, mortar, and pestle. Let the young man think what he liked. It made no difference to me. If my father bade me marry him, I would. If Sun Eagle refused to take me, I would not.
And if the Beast swept down from the mountains and devoured me, then so be it. I have no say, no voice. I am a woman.
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