Persephone felt he was giving her a chance to speak, but she had no words.
What can I say to that? Yes, I’m great, or no, the love of my life was a fool?
A moment later, Konniger went on. “After I became chieftain, I thought you’d be a good girl and quietly step aside, disappear into widowhood, and everything would work out. Tressa would have her fine house, and I would rule the way my father never got a chance to because the gods thought it was funny to drop an oak on him. Only it didn’t work out that way, did it?”
“You’re the chieftain, Konniger. I’ve never disputed that.”
He smiled at her then, a disbelieving smirk. “All these years with Reglan, I knew you had friends in the other clans, but damn, woman.” He laughed. “A Dureyan mercenary, seven Fhrey, a goblin, and a giant. You really called in some favors, didn’t you? Don’t know why you went to all the trouble. The God Killer would have been enough. He’s a foot taller than I am and has a sword, for Mari’s sake. Probably been fighting since he could walk. I think we all know he can beat me.”
“I didn’t bring him here to challenge you.”
“I’m not an idiot, Seph. Of course you didn’t. No one brings that much muscle just to oust someone like me from a chair. You have bigger plans, don’t you?” He smiled. “You gave it away at the meeting, you know? That comment about uniting the clans. That’s it, isn’t it? Reglan was right. You’re smart, but he never mentioned the ambition.”
“Listen, Konniger. I don’t know where you’re getting all—”
“Easy, Seph. Relax. I’m not ambushing you, and I’m not here to scold you for disobedience.”
“You don’t sound like you’re here to make peace, either.”
“Not really.”
“What, then?”
Above them, Persephone heard Minna’s scratching and whining again, louder this time.
The noise made Konniger look up. “Your mystic left, and her wolf is still up there. I thought you might be confused when you found her gone. You came to me the day the Fhrey arrived to explain what was going on. That was big of you, so I figured I’d return the favor.”
“And what is going on? Where’s Suri?”
“She and Maeve went hunting the big brown bear together.”
“Suri and Maeve went—? What are you talking about?”
“The two left a few hours ago to save Maeve’s daughter.”
“Daughter?”
“Ha!” he exclaimed, withdrawing into the chair, pulling himself tighter. “You didn’t know Maeve had a daughter, did you?”
“Maeve doesn’t have a daughter.”
“She did. The old woman gave birth some fourteen years ago.”
Persephone shook her head. “You’re not making any sense. Have you been drinking?”
“Not a drop, but I assure you Maeve did have a child.”
“It’s not possible; everyone on the dahl would have known.”
He shook his head. “Reglan kept it a secret. Hid Maeve somewhere—I don’t know where—told everyone she had to go on a long trip to visit each of the other dahls and collect stories from the other clans or some such nonsense. Took her over a year. You remember that, don’t you?”
Persephone did remember when Maeve had disappeared. She recalled how frustrating it was to be missing their Keeper. There were always things coming up, things Persephone didn’t know the answers to, things that needed to be verified, and all of it had to be delayed until Maeve got back.
“But why would Reglan—”
“Reglan wouldn’t let her keep it, of course. He couldn’t. People would ask who the father was, and the answer would be awkward seeing as how he was married to you. What if the child bore a resemblance? Had her father’s eyes?”
Persephone stumbled backward as if Konniger had shoved her. She laid a hand on the nearby autumn pillar for support.
“That’s why you didn’t know. You weren’t allowed to. Wives never understand such things. He figured a lot of people might not, so Reglan kept things quiet. Sent Maeve away, and when she came back, she was supposed to come alone. Only problem was Maeve couldn’t give up the child. She should have run off and not returned, but she’s not smart like you. She came back to the dahl with the infant in tow. Maybe she thought if Reglan saw it, he’d change his mind. That’s not what happened.”
Konniger looked away at the fire, his hands squeezing tightly.
“When she showed up, Reglan called for me and my dad. The child had to be abandoned in the forest. Maeve put up a fight. What mother wouldn’t? The task fell to me. I was the son of the Shield, invisible, trustworthy, and eager to prove my worth. They told me it was an easy task. Just take the infant to the forest and dump it, they said. Someplace deep, they said, so she can’t find it. That part was easy. The hard part was taking the baby from Maeve, taking it and…” Konniger’s face turned into a distasteful grimace. “And seeing her when I got back.”
Konniger paused a moment and swallowed. “Maeve screamed.” He made a sound like a laugh, but there was no mirth in it. “I never heard a grown woman sound like that before. You’d have thought I was killing her. I can still hear it, still hear that high-pitched shriek. The baby cried, too, a chugging kind of wail. You know the sort they do? Did it all the way out there. Louder even than Autumn’s brats when they’re really worked up. I was glad to be rid of the thing.”
Persephone leaned on the pillar. He’s lying. Reglan would never—
“Kept crying, though. Amazing how far sound carries. I dumped her next to that cascade—same one where you killed Sackett and Adler—but even the sound of the falling water couldn’t drown out the cries. Reglan and my father were so proud; I’d become a man in their eyes. But I didn’t feel like a man. I swore I could still hear that baby crying—still do sometimes. That’s why I hate Autumn’s kids. They all sound the same.”
Persephone didn’t want to hear any more, but the words continued to flow over her. “When Maeve found me, I could tell she’d been weeping since I left. Old Maeve looked at me like she was dangling off a cliff and I was holding the other end of the rope. She wanted me to tell her where I left the baby. She was going to go get it and run away, I think. Too late, of course. I couldn’t risk losing the respect of Reglan and my father. Still, I had to tell her something.”
It can’t be true. Reglan would never have had a child with Maeve, and if he had, he certainly wouldn’t have ordered it killed just to save himself embarrassment. That wasn’t the man I knew. That wasn’t the man I loved.
And yet, she was certain Konniger wasn’t lying. She could see it in his eyes, in the way he refused to look at her, in the way he was wringing his hands, and in the confessional tone of his voice, which sounded heavy and ashamed. Besides, Konniger wasn’t smart enough to come up with all those details—he wasn’t making it up. He was telling the truth. “What did you say to her? What did you tell Maeve?”
“I told her a story about her prayers being answered—and they were—in a way. I told her that the gods had taken her little girl and changed her into a bear, a beautiful little cub. She believed me because she had to, because the truth would’ve killed her.”
“You said she and Suri went to save her daughter? What did you mean?”
Konniger took a long inhalation, made a peak with the fingers of both hands, and gestured resignation by spreading his thumbs. “Maeve—she wasn’t content to accept that her daughter was safe with the gods. I should’ve said that the infant turned into a raven and flew away. Instead, Maeve pictured this poor abandoned bear cub starving without a mother to provide for it, and she went looking. Every day she went to the forest, and I was terrified she might find her baby’s remains, probably eaten by wolves. Wouldn’t have taken them long to find her, not with all the wailing. I figured Maeve would eventually give up, but damned if she didn’t find an abandoned cub. She took to feeding the animal, bringing food to the forest. I forgot all about it until the bad winter when the bodies disappeared.
”
Persephone and Reglan never learned what had happened to the bodies, just those terrible footprints in the snow. They didn’t want to investigate too much for fear of what they’d find. In an attempt to stave off rumors that would devastate a community already desperate, she and Reglan spread a story. They stomped out the prints and said wild animals had dragged off the bodies, but Persephone knew that wasn’t true. She could still see those footprints in the snow beside the drag marks. Small feet had made them, a woman’s feet.
“Maeve was feeding her daughter our dead. I didn’t say anything. Maybe I felt too guilty. Maybe I was scared Reglan would blame me. I’d just become the new Shield, remember? Didn’t want to mess that up, and I didn’t think anything would come of it. Never crossed my mind to wonder what would happen once a bear got used to the taste of human meat. You see, that winter, while all the other animals were starving, Maeve’s daughter grew big. She grew strong and lost her fear of people. After having a taste of us, we became her preferred food. That’s what the bear thought when she came across your son—food.”
“The Brown? Maeve thinks The Brown is her daughter?” Persephone squeezed the pillar hard. “What are they going to do?”
“I don’t know. Maeve woke me up before dawn, saying she was going with that loony mystic who knows how to drive the demon out of The Brown. I guess they think they can turn her back into a human or something. Maeve was so happy. Crazy is what she is—has been since Reglan made me take her daughter. She and the mystic left a couple hours ago.”
“And you let her go? Why didn’t you tell the truth?”
“See, that’s the thing.” Konniger looked into the flames of the fire with a haunted grimace. “Maybe it is the truth. I mean, Maeve searched the forest every day after I left the baby. She never found it, but she did find an abandoned bear cub. Maybe the gods were listening when I told her that. Maybe they heard and made it true.”
“You have to do something!” she shouted. “Get the men together.”
“And do what? Go where?”
Overhead the scratching continued.
“The wolf,” Persephone said more to herself than to Konniger. “Follow the wolf!”
Persephone ran across the room, rounded the banister, and raced up the steps. “Arion?”
“Persephone, don’t come in. The wolf wants out!” Arion called through the door. Persephone didn’t need the warning as the door shuddered violently. “Suri isn’t here. She left her wolf with me. She’s going after a bear and said Minna would get in the way.”
Claws attacked the door, rumbling the wood against the frame. The ferocity of the assault halted Persephone and made her hesitate.
“Are you all right in there?”
“Yes,” Arion replied. “But I think you should send help for Suri. I’m worried she might get killed. She thinks a demon possessed a bear or something.”
Even the Fhrey was worried!
“Minna?” Persephone said gently. “Can you hear me, Minna?”
The thrashing of the door stopped, and the wolf cried mournfully.
“What is the wolf doing?” Persephone asked.
“Lying in front of the door, smelling you.”
“Hey, Minna. Remember me? I need you to take me to find Suri. You’d like to see Suri, wouldn’t you?”
“The moment you let that animal out, you’ll never keep up with it,” Konniger said as he climbed to the top of the stairs and stood behind her.
“I’ll need a leash,” Persephone said.
“That’s a wolf, not a dog. It’ll tear you to pieces.”
“I don’t think so.” Persephone hoped that was true. It should be true. Minna had never showed any sign of aggression toward anyone on the dahl, not even the sheep or chickens, but then, Suri had always been with her.
It was what the tree said to do. And if you can’t trust an ancient talking tree, what was the point of having one?
“Here.” Konniger slipped off his belt and held it out. “For all the good it will do you.”
“Don’t give it to me,” Persephone said. “You do it. I’ll call the men together and tell them that you’re organizing a hunting party, and that—”
“I’m not going anywhere. If you want to do this, you’ll do it on your own.”
“What? Are you serious? Your Keeper of Ways is going to get killed because of a lie you told!”
“I won’t send men against that bear again. You of all people know the danger. The Brown isn’t just a bear. Who knows. Maybe your mystic is right. Maybe it is a demon.”
“It’s not a demon. But it will kill them!”
“I won’t allow any men from this dahl to commit suicide going after that bear. I’m not as stupid as Reglan.”
She glared at him, furious.
How can he just stand there? How could Mari have allowed such a man to become our chieftain?
Persephone found it hard to believe Konniger could be so cowardly, even when young. To take a baby from its mother and abandon it was despicable. But now he had a chance to make up for that mistake and he refused. Konniger would stand by while two women went to their deaths because he was too weak to own up to an embarrassing lie.
“You and Reglan were both wrong,” she told him as she snatched the belt from his hand. “I’ve never wanted to be chieftain of this clan. Chieftains apparently kill babies and allow innocent women to die for their mistakes. But you’ve convinced me of one thing. The people of Rhen deserve better than what they’ve had, and they definitely need better than what they’ve got.”
—
Roan was hovering over Malcolm, twisting a lock of hair and studying his collar, when Persephone burst into the roundhouse. Hanging on to a leather strap leashed to Minna, Persephone could barely restrain the wolf, who was intent on being somewhere else.
“Raithe!” Persephone shouted. “I need help. Suri and Maeve have gone looking for The Brown. They’re going to get themselves killed if we don’t catch them before they find her.”
Raithe got up and reached for his swords. “Is this the same bear that killed your husband?”
“Yes.”
Raithe looked toward the door. “Aren’t we going to need more people, then?”
“We don’t have time.” Minna gave a stout tug and began dragging Persephone back outside. “We—look, we aren’t going to kill the bear; we’re just stopping Suri and Maeve from getting near it. Maeve’s an old woman. We should be able to catch them if we start now.”
“Okay, fine,” Raithe said.
“Thank you.” Persephone let Minna pull her back out and toward the dahl’s front gate.
“Malcolm!” Raithe shouted, grabbing his spear and the Dherg shield. “Run to the lodge and get another spear off the wall.” He picked up a sheep’s bladder fashioned into a waterskin and threw it toward the ex-slave. “And here, fill that at the well, then catch up to us.” He looked at Roan. “It’s okay if we borrow it, right?”
She nodded.
“I’m going?” Malcolm asked nervously.
“Yep.”
“But I don’t know anything about hunting bears.”
“We aren’t hunting a bear,” Raithe said. “You just heard her.”
“Then why am I terrified?”
“Because it will be dark by the time we get out there, because I’m going, and because the gods are infatuated with me this month.”
“Tell me again why I’m going.”
Raithe ran toward the gate. “It’s your reward for hitting people with rocks.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Cave
What length will a mother go to on behalf of her child? How long is time? What is the depth of love?
—THE BOOK OF BRIN
Tall and narrow, the cave entrance was a jagged crack on the face of the mountain. Leafy plants grew on the ledges, but no trees dared approach. The dark void gaped with all the invitation of an open mouth spreading lichen-tarnished lips that dripped damp. Suri had ex
plored many caves. Most were down by the Bern River, cut by the water along the cliffs. None were deep, and few were occupied by anything larger than swifts or foxes. Suri liked to think that she’d delved into every crevice in the Crescent Forest, but she hadn’t been in this one. Tura had forbidden it.
When Suri was a child, few things were off limits. She played in the cascades of the forest streams, swam in the flumes of the Bern, climbed to the small branches of the tallest trees and to the peaks where eagles nested. She’d broken an arm, skinned her knees, returned with bee stings, and suffered through rashes from ivy and sumac. Tura patched her up and sent her on her way for more explorations and adventures. Such injuries were trivial, but Grin’s cave was another matter. Real danger lay within, making it the single most interesting place in the forest.
Tura was right about everything. She knew when the first snows would come, that the purple salifan berries weren’t good to eat, and how to ease the pain of bee stings. She knew the language of the gods, the names of the stars, and the best way to skip a stone across a lake. Out of love and respect for Tura, Suri never went to the cave. Still, she paused in her travels whenever she spotted it and wondered what was inside. After so many years of speculation, Suri had created legends.
Grin wasn’t at home, of that Suri was almost certain, and she waited among the muddy bear-print artwork of the “porch” for Maeve to climb the last leg of the journey. The old woman had cast aside most of her wool wraps, going so far as to remove the ever-present white cloth from her head, which she used to wipe the sweat from her face. The locks of white were silky and long, and for a moment Suri could see a younger woman’s beauty.
“How did you manage to drag the—” Suri stopped herself. “The meat up here?”
“Oh—I didn’t.” Maeve puffed hard, steadying her quivering body on the rocks and wiping her red face. “I left the food at the bottom and whistled.” She dabbed at her glistening neck and smiled as a breeze blew through her hair. Again, Suri saw the girl Maeve had once been. The hair helped, but it was the smile that made the biggest difference. Judging from the wrinkles on her face, Maeve didn’t often do so.
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