The Crow God's Girl

by Patrice Sarath

  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 kidnappers 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, Captain 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 king 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.

  “I am thankful for your support,” she fumbled.

  “Good. Will you accept my offer of clothes?”

  “God, yes,” Kate blurted, and Lady Trieve laughed. She noticed, however, how my lady’s eyes remained alert, calculating. Every gift came with a price, she thought. That was how Aeritan worked. A soldier tossed Kate a bundle of cloth and she caught it easily.

  Alone in her tent, Kate examined the small bundle of material. The clothes were fine and clean. They were of undyed cloth, bleached by the sun but with brown flecks of plain thread. Kate looked at them and frowned. No colors. All the Houses had their colors. There had to be some significance in this plain cream tunic and cream breeches. There was even a pale kerchief, embroidered cream on cream with exquisite stitches.

  Every instinct told her this was a trap, but she didn’t see how and in any case, Lady Trieve’s support and protection were vital. Kate took a deep breath and shed her soiled clothing. She put on her stays, cinching herself, and pulled on the shirt and the trousers. She brushed her hair, braided it into a simple french braid, and tied it with a bit of ribbon in a bow. There. This was as good as it was going to get. She pulled back the tent flap.

  All eyes were on her when she emerged from her tent. A man-at-arms held the chestnut mare. Lady Trieve was remounted. She gave Kate a once over, and said,

  “The kerchief too, Lady Temia.”

  “I do not wear kerchiefs, Lady Trieve.” She handed it over to the man at arms. He looked alarmed, as if it were made of hot coals.

  Lady Trieve’s expression hardened. Kate didn’t back down.

  “Disobedient girl,” Trieve snapped. Her urbane smugness had vanished. “You are not in command here.”

  Grigar touched her arm. He made the tiniest gesture toward the kerchief. Mulish, she hesitated, and then held out her hand. The soldier handed it over.

  She never could get it right. Grigar had to help her tie it over her braid, the feel of his knuckles against the nape of her neck distracting. The weight of the kerchief was oppressive. A single hair was caught in the knot, and it stung every time she turned her head. Now she knew exactly how she looked in her plain clothing with no color.

  She looked like a smallholder.

  She had given her pledge to the captain on a sentimental impulse and now she belonged to Trieve. She turned to her crows and she could see the understanding in their eyes. Stepping away from the Trieve party, she gathered them around, and spoke in a low voice.

  “Get out now. Go to Temia. Stay off the roads. If I don’t come back, you’ve seen how to take care of Ossen. The rest of the pearls will cover her care–”

  “Kett.” Grigar said. “You’ll come back. Believe.”

  The simple words were a comfort. Balafray, Grigar, and Arlef each put a hand on her shoulder, and she reached out and gave them a hug, trying to get her arms around them all together. She didn’t want to let them go, but behind her Lady Trieve raised her voice.

  “Lady Temia.”

  Kate turned and took the reins of the chestnut mare. She lifted herself into the saddle, feeling a perverse pride that in this she outshone the pretty Lady Trieve. She turned the mare to follow the others, and forced herself from looking back.

  “Congratulations. You’ve tamed the crow,” Salt said, when Kate was escorted into Council by Lady Trieve and her armed guards. She might as well have been bound and gagged–her clothing announced her as a prisoner, or penitent. The nobles on the dais and their families in the audience all were riveted by her appearance.

  Kate kept her eyes on the dais, but she couldn’t help but see Colar. He sat with his wife in the front row. He looked tired.

  “The people of Salt owe you their thanks,” Salt went on. He looked terrible, with dark pouches under his eyes, and his face was haggard. Still, he retained a measure of his urbane sarcasm. “We’ll have her back please, so she can be plucked and hanged.”

  “I’m afraid not, Lord Salt,” Trieve said. “The girl pledged herself to Trieve. She’s under my protection.”

  Salt threw up his hands. “I’m sure you wouldn’t tell us this winter’s tale if you didn’t have proof, so bring it out, Lady Trieve.”

  “Colar of Terrick, if you please, and my husband, Captain Crae.”

  Funny. Colar didn’t even hesitate, but stood right away. So he knew what I had done.

  Salt raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, Lady Trieve? You call upon the two who broke her out of her prison? Plus, we all know the boy has feelings for her–I do apologize, Lady Janye.”

  Colar’s wife smiled thinly from the audience.

  Trieve swept on. “For my part, I have already reprimanded my husband. As for young Terrick, I’ll leave that to his wife. Or, since you are all in bed together, perhaps you will see fit to punish the boy.”

  There was a rumble in the audience and among the heads of Houses. Salt just rolled his eyes.

  “Beware of bitterness, Lady Trieve. You will lose your considerable looks if you dwell on the past.”

  She didn’t bother to respond, only nodded to Colar and Crae.

  Their testimony was brief. Trieve gestured and Kate was pushed forward by her escort. She faced Trieve.

  “Repeat your pledge in front of Council and it will be complete,” Lady Trieve said. “You are pledged to my House, and in turn, under my protection.”

  The alternative would be her execution. But to pledge, she would lose everything but her life. Better to have stayed in Terrick, better to have married Mitain or some farmer. Lady Trieve would remind her every day that she had saved her life and demand her gratitude. Her crows would be hounded from House to House, slinking along Aeritan’s byways, its lost people once more. What Aeritan gives, we must take, for we are her true heirs.

  A silence descended upon the chamber as they all awaited her pledge. She could hear the breathing and the rustling, the small sounds of a crowd trying to be quiet. Kate sniffed, and looked up at the ceiling, as if deep in thought. Now was the time to play the strategy she had planned on the ride in to town.

  “Well,” she said. “That’s very kind of you, Lady Trieve. But before I make that pledge, I need to address the Council.”

  Salt snorted and the rest of the Council buzzed like a hive.

  “Discipline your pledge, Lady Trieve. She still thinks she’s one of us.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of thinking I was like you, Lord Salt,” Kate snapped. “Believe me, you are not a good example. We have a saying, perhaps you’ve heard of it? ‘Lie down with dogs, get up with fleas?’ ”

  Salt reddened and said, “Watch your tongue, you filthy-”

  “Lord Terrick,” she interrupted. Colar’s father looked straight at her, dour as always, but his eyes held strain, and their expression was terrible. She had hurt him badly, hurt his pride, and she knew he expected more humiliation at the hands of his foster daughter. She almost wished she didn’t have to face him, but it was her life at stake.

  Still, she spoke more softly than she had planned.

  “Lord Camrin was behind the kidnapping attempt on your son,” she said.

  Silence–a
nd then the chamber erupted.

  Kate waited out the tumult, taking in everyone’s reactions. There was Salt, blustering with the others but a calculating look in his eyes nonetheless. Lord Terrick half stood, and his expression was questioning.

  “What nonsense is this!” Salt said, his deep voice rising above the clamor. “Madam, curb your insolent crow or I will!”

  “I will hear the girl,” Lord Terrick said. He didn’t shout. He didn’t have to. He spoke so rarely it was as if a mountain broke its silence.

  The chaos quieted. Kate faced him directly as if they were the only two in the room.

  “My friend Ossen was captured and tortured by Camrin’s men before he was killed. She recognized his men as the thugs who took Yare. Remember, she watched them that night, waiting for her chance to rescue your son.”

  Salt made a derisive sound. “Oh, we are to believe some crow’s excuse now? No doubt she picked some pockets and was soundly whipped as necessary.”

  Kate had everyone’s full attention, but she kept her focus on Lord Terrick.

  “They recognized her too, sir. That’s why they meant to kill her, but her brothers rescued her before they could do more than beat her senseless.”

  “And there we have our murderers!” Salt sounded gleeful.

  “Not quite, Lord Salt. She was alive while Lord Camrin was murdered before her eyes. She lives now in a safe place, ready to reveal who she saw.”

  She waited, hardly breathing, her heart beating so hard there were dots in front of her eyes. Now it was up to Salt to take the bait.

  “Nonsense,” he managed. “Nonsense,” he said again, his voice stronger. “You are playing a dangerous game, girl, dangerous indeed. Lady Trieve, for the last time, curb your crow.”

  Kate turned back to Lord Terrick. She held up her closed hand, as if she concealed something in it.

  “The killer must have thought Ossen was too far gone to worry about, so he left without making sure she was dead. But he forgot one important thing, in his haste to escape.”