The Crow God's Girl

by Patrice Sarath

  “I think, ma’am, that it would be. They discuss weighty matters of war... and such.”

  Janye gave her usual sour look. Serve you right, your face to freeze that way, he was tempted to tell her.

  “Meaning, nothing for us to know about,” she said.

  “Exactly,” he said, curt.

  “I need to talk to you,” she said, equally as abrupt.

  High god. Not now. “I’m busy, as I said.” He made to go past them but Janye put herself in front of him. Her expression was hard. They hadn’t been in such close proximity–he couldn’t remember when.

  “Oh!” Janye’s mother said, giving her daughter a meaningful look. “Let me leave you, then. I’ll just be off. Janye, find me when you and Colar are finished.” The busy little woman hurried off, leaving them alone in the dimly lit corridor.

  Colar nodded, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “My quarters are this way.” He led the way down the hall, and opened the door to the guest room he shared with his father.

  His father demanded precision and orderliness and so the room was neat, the gear stowed neatly, the beds made. Colar ushered his wife in and gestured her to sit in the chair. He lit a few lamps and waited for her to speak.

  “Colar–”

  Had she ever called him by his name?

  “Yes, Janye?”

  “I am... sorry for the way I treated you,” she managed, struggling to get the words out. “I let my anger at my father and mother influence my actions. You see...”

  He didn’t want to hear it. “We don’t have to know everything about one another, Janye,” he said, with a mean stab of satisfaction. She flushed, and abruptly gave up a plan to try to cozen him.

  “I’ve changed my mind about this marriage,” she said. “I will be your wife and join with you after all.”

  He laughed at her. Janye bridled, and her expression became one of fury.

  “How dare you–”

  “What kind of fool do you take me for?”

  “You are every kind of fool,” she shot back. “I don’t like you, and I certainly don’t love you. But if that girl gets away with her plans, not only will you never have Favor, the balance tilts in Council, and it will be a disaster.”

  “And you lying with me helps that cause how?”

  “It will force my father’s hand. He won’t be able to annul the marriage once we have lain together.”

  So Kenery had told her of his plans to get out of the alliance. Instead of rejoicing, Janye had clearly seen how disastrous that would be.

  “Listen,” she said. “Favor is not what is at stake here.” She got up and paced, frustrated by the small space. She turned, her skirts whispering, and her expression, usually disdainful, was intent. “Lie with me. I will bear your children. And then we’ll have Kenery, not Favor.”

  He was repelled by her but it was an attractive proposition. Kenery was a larger, more influential House than Favor, sitting on the river and controlling the gateway to Brythern and other countries. Plus, he could build the bridges that already soared across the river in his mind’s eye. A true lord of Kenery, not the pompous blowhard who ruled it now, could become more powerful even than Salt or Red Gold Bridge. There was one major obstacle, though. Janye could not inherit Kenery. Her baby brother was heir. Kenery would have to die before the House passed on, and though Colar would not be sorry if that happened tomorrow, he would not hasten his death; nor would he move against the baby.

  “How?” he said, wondering what perfidy she planned. She relaxed, but he could tell she knew she didn’t have him yet. She licked her lips, proceeding carefully.

  “My father wants to slip the bonds that tie him to Terrick and Salt. He was telling my mother and me that just today. Renounce Favor, and he will be grateful. I will be grateful. He will reward you, and you will not regret it.”

  “He’ll reward me with his House?” What she was proposing was treachery against his father, and even more so, blasphemy. The high god summoned the lord to the land, though men were known to nudge the god now and again. He wondered how much of a nudge she planned for her House.

  “Of course not. The high god will choose for Kenery, as he has always done. But he will choose the right lord. My dear little brother, so tender in years, so innocent, will be unable to take up the lordship for years to come. My lady mother is not fit for governing and so it would reasonable to expect that you and I would be his council until he comes of age.”

  Reasonable. In the event of Lord Kenery’s untimely death, his daughter meant to wrest her brother’s house away from him, under the guise of council. And he would be her conspirator. Bile rose into his throat. He got up and opened the door for her.

  “Go.”

  The familiar flash of anger crossed her face, but she managed to stay calm. She collected herself and swept out. She went down the passage and he watched her go, then blew out the lamps and closed the door.

  Soldier’s god, I can’t wait to be rid of her and her whole family.

  The palazzo was crowded with lords and servants, ablaze with lamplight, and warmed by flickering braziers where people stood chatting, gossiping, or scheming, depending upon their natures. Colar pulled up the collar of his half-cloak against the evening chill and stepped out, keeping a wary eye for enemies. When the crowd noise rose in an excited buzz, he turned with everyone else to see what was the matter.

  Kate walked up with three of her crows, their weapons at the ready. Her hair gleamed in the lamplight with the tiny pearls that decorated it, and she stood out in her rich and foreign clothes. The buzz of the crowd dropped away.

  She saw him at the same moment.

  He saw her hesitate, then say something to her guards. They didn’t look happy but they dropped back and she crossed the palazzo to meet him.

  For the first time in months, they were face to face. She was much thinner than when he saw her last. Her face was pale with a few freckles over her nose. Her lips were chapped and he remembered that she must have been spending most of her days outside, on the road. She was a crow now.

  But of course she wasn’t. She was Kate, not a crow. Not Lady Temia. He had to work hard not to grin in relief and happiness. He could explain. He could be forgiven. He almost took her hand, then remembered and stopped himself.

  “Hi,” he managed awkwardly.

  She arched a brow. He never remembered her doing that before.

  “‘Hi?’” she asked.

  His cheeks flamed. He didn’t know what to say; how could he explain anything here, in the middle of a palazzo?

  Her crows glanced at one another, and one of the crows stepped forward. “My lady, we have a meeting.”

  She turned to the crow. “I know. I won’t be long. Just a few minutes.”

  “Here,” Colar said. Instead of taking her hand, he nodded toward an alcove with a small bench set against the wall. He wanted them to have privacy, even though at this point the news was likely racing through the farthest reaches of the House and the province of Salt proper.

  She followed him and they sat. The crows stood several paces away, scanning the crowd. Casting about for something to say, Colar looked them over. There was the ugly scarred fellow, the handsome one, and a girl. He nodded at the handsome one.

  “Was he the one who rescued Yare?” He tried to hide his jealousy. His little brother’s hero worship had been nettling.

  She followed his gaze and laughed out loud. She pointed her chin at the girl. “Not Grigar. Ossen.”

  “What?” What in the name of the high god...Why had no one told him?

  “No one knew, except me. Well, and the merchant Mitain, but that’s another story. All anyone ever saw was the crow, not the girl.” Her voice got momentarily hard. “I wasn’t even allowed to be friends with her, because they all thought I was cheating on you, and I couldn’t tell anyone because it was her secret. “

  He tried to sort all that out, and failed. She twisted her hands and said abruptly,

  “So, how i
s Eri? And your mom? And the boys?”

  She sounded eager and worried both.

  “I left them well and in good spirits. Eri misses you.”

  “I miss her too. I promised her I would write and I haven’t done. If I wrote a letter, could you carry it to her?”

  “Of course,” he said. She was so concerned, he reached out and touched her hand, and for a moment they clasped fingers. Almost immediately, she withdrew her hand.

  “Why? Why did you do it?”

  All of the excuses and reasons jumbled together. “I don’t know,” he managed at last. “I wish I hadn’t. I wish that every day. I got your letter and I know–I must have hurt you. And I’m sorry. Really, truly sorry.”

  She looked away and for a moment her eyes gleamed in the distant lamplight. “I hear she’s pretty.” The hurt in her voice was plain and clear.

  “She doesn’t matter. That’s not why.” He couldn’t explain. “I’m sorry, Kate. I am truly sorry.”

  “‘Truly?’” she repeated, the same way she repeated it when he said Hi. “Truly, Colar? Do you know what I went through?”

  “Kate–”

  “They hated me. The only protection I had was you. You never wrote. You never told me. I had to hear it from your mother.”

  Her words were low so only he could hear them, and they were thick with unfallen tears. She looked down at her hands. All he could see were the small pearls nestled in her hair.

  “That’s why I wanted you to stay at Red Gold Bridge,” he said. He lifted her chin so she could see he was serious. “If you had stayed–”

  She yanked her face away.

  “What, Colar? You would have sent for me to be your mistress? Where did you get the idea that I would go for that? Oh right, last year, in the war camp.”

  Her voice was sharp with fury now. He knew what she meant, that everyone thought she was the general’s mistress. He felt a rush of anger. He wasn’t like the general. It wasn’t the same thing at all.

  “It would have been better than this!” he retorted, indicating her crows.

  She smacked him across the cheek, the sound ringing out in the open air. The sting brought tears into his eyes and he shook his head to clear it. The crows stepped in, to make sure he wouldn’t retaliate, and he felt their menacing presence behind him. Somewhere someone laughed, and he remembered with a rush that they were not alone, they had an audience. He stood, knowing he looked a right fool.

  She got to her feet. “I didn’t mean that,” she said, and her voice was shaking. “Colar–”

  “My lady,” said the handsome crow again. He put his hand on Colar’s chest, not pushing, just moving him away. Colar felt rage fill him but he stepped back. Now was not the time for a fight, but he looked at the crow and let him know that a fight would come. The crow gave him a crooked smile in acknowledgement.

  Kate regained her composure. “I apologize, Colar. That was ill-mannered of me,” she said in her clear, new voice. Her Lady Temia voice.

  He was being dismissed.

  “I’ll have a letter for you to take to Eri. If you could, could you also deliver Hotshot to her? My gift. She’s outgrowing her pony.”

  “Of course,” he managed. His cheek burned from the slap and his lips were a little numb. “Kate–”

  “I have an appointment.”

  He watched her and her escort go. After a bit, everyone in the palazzo turned away and went about their business.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  At first no one said a word as they made their way to the Trieve contingent’s quarters in an annex of the great House. Kate felt the impact of the slap against her palm, and she rubbed it against her thigh, trying to wipe away the memory. She had never hit anyone in her life.

  That didn’t even come close to being malcra, but she didn’t like it. And worse, when he had taken her chin the way he had–

  She had liked that. She almost closed her eyes, almost kissed him, almost forgave him.

  And then! Her breath came hard again, just remembering. Being his mistress would have been better than being Lady Temia. The idea of it!

  “Calm yourself,” Grigar said in her ear. “You have an alliance to make.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she muttered. “He made me so mad.”

  “Really,” he said drily, and she had to laugh.

  “He’s nothing,” Balafray rasped. “You have risen higher than he can ever hope to.”

  “‘Cause Favor’s a jumped-up pigsty,” Ossen chimed in loudly, forgetting they were in Trieve territory. They all shhhd! her, and Kate felt a rush of fondness for them all. She squeezed Ossen’s hand, and with the other, took Balafray’s worn, calloused hand.

  “All right,” she said. “Let’s make an alliance.”

  Two guards waited at the entrance to Trieve’s chambers. She couldn’t help but notice the hard looks between the guards and her crows, especially with Balafray. The scarred crow growled something, and she put a hand on his arm. He settled reluctantly. They were admitted and filled the room.

  Kate was glad she dressed for the occasion. Lady Trieve was certainly dressed to impress in an Aeritan gown, not the usual tunic and skirt that was for everyday. Kate was reminded of Lady Beatra. She had dressed to work, and she worked hard. Why wasn’t she at Council when so many ladies were? Oh, right. That would be because her husband and son were stealing another lord’s House. Perhaps Lady Beatra disapproved.

  She bowed to her ladyship, equal to equal, and received a patrician nod in return. Kate pretended to ignore the snub.

  “Thank you for coming to see me, Lady Temia,” Lady Trieve said. She gestured for her to sit on a pretty carved bench. Kate sat, and Ossen started to but suddenly stood straight and scowled, as Grigar hauled her up by the back of her collar. They arrayed themselves around her, as did Lady Trieve’s men, and her captain-husband Crae.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Lady Trieve,” Kate said. She turned to Crae. ““I never got the chance to thank you last summer for coming to my rescue. So I thank you now.”

  He gave a courteous smile and a polite bow of his head, but he and Lady Trieve exchanged the smallest of glances.

  “I was honored to come to your aid, Lady Temia, even before knowing who you are.”

  I’m not anyone, she almost said, but didn’t. They didn’t need to know her self-doubt.

  “I was happy to help you in Council, Lady Trieve,” she began. “I hope that this alliance will be fruitful for both of us.”

  “Oh, I think it will. This begins to make up a small part for the attack on my land by your crows.”

  Kate could tell her that they weren’t her crows then, but she didn’t think that Lady Trieve would listen.

  “I see,” she said, as calm as she could be. She had foolishly expected more gratitude. “Of course I hope we’re square, but there’s still a little matter of quid pro quo.”

  As if Aeritan understood Latin. Except that Lady Trieve understood very well.

  “So for turning the whole Council on its ear, you want something else from Trieve?” Lady Trieve sounded skeptical.

  “An alliance cuts both ways. I hope more than anything that just by turning the Council on its ear, as you say, I’ve upended Terrick’s plans for Favor, because I don’t want war. But if there is war, I’d like to know that I can count on Trieve to come to Temia’s aid in time of need.”

  Lady Trieve laughed, as if she had asked for the impossible. “My captain saved your life last summer and we fended off your crows from a vile attack. Where does that stand in your calculation? Haven’t we done enough? Goodness, girl, how much more do we owe you?”

  Don’t get angry, get tricky, her mother had once said. She hated losing cases. Kate didn’t want to lose this one.

  “I’m sorry, Lady Trieve. I appear to have offended you. Let’s start again. I walked into Council and prevented your childhood House from being stolen out from underneath your nose. I don’t owe you anything, not even my life, because one could say that
your husband, by saving mine, also saved Favor.”

  There was a charged silence.

  “I suppose that if I don’t agree to this alliance, you will renege on your promise to come to Favor’s aid, if necessary.” Lady Trieve’s tone was sharp.

  “Well,” Kate said cheerfully. “You could always pay us.”

  Maybe she could follow in the general’s footsteps, and be the mercenary general of the craziest army known in Aeritan. Of course, that all depended on how well she could control the crows, and she was mindful of Grigar’s warnings.

  There was another charged silence, and then Jessamy laughed. This time it wasn’t incredulous, but honest.

  “Many a lord has started out with less and finished with far more,” Lady Trieve said. “I like you, Lady Temia. Well, not exactly like, but you are a precocious child.” She waved a hand at one of the silent servants standing in the background and they bustled into action, setting out food. “Tonight I had hoped to thank you in person for your help today. I tell you frankly, an alliance may be problematic.”

  “It doesn’t have to be,” Kate said.

  “No, but that’s the reality.”

  “Why not?” Kate pushed, stubborn. Lady Temia looked irritated.

  “Do you want me to say it in front of your crows, girl? I don’t trust them, and I don’t trust you to hold them.”

  Kate froze. She could hardly say in front of Balafray that she was perfectly capable of controlling her crows, when Balafray would take offense, and probably go malcra right there. Hostility radiated off of him as it was.

  With a self-satisfied little moue, Lady Trieve poured a cup of aromatic vesh and handed it over to Kate. “Vesh?”

  The interview was over. Kate bowed gracefully, and sipped her vesh. They all ate, even Lady Trieve’s men at arms and the crows, for which she was grateful–they had been on short rations and Ossen’s face was looking more sharp and pinched than usual. The girl ate with fierce concentration; Kate tried to mind her manners. The rest of the evening was spent in small talk and bits of gossip that Kate filed away, even while she mulled over what she had accomplished. Lady Trieve wanted Kate to commit her crows, but she did not want to commit her House to anything involving Temia.