Clan Ground (The Second Book of the Named)

by Clare Bell

  Shongshar, not Fessran, was the first to speak. “Your tree-ling is skilled, herding teacher,” he said, studying Aree closely. The treeling fluffed his fur at him and wound his tail tighter around Thakur’s neck. “Did you spend much time teaching him?” Shongshar asked.

  “Yes, I did. Aree is clever and learns fast, but he took a lot of work.”

  “Why did you choose to teach a treeling instead of teaching clubs?”

  Ratha saw Thakur hesitate. “I teach cubs herding. I am not a Firekeeper,” he said. “I taught Aree because he has a special ability that the cubs do not have. His paws are different from ours: they are made to grasp the limbs of trees as he climbs. He is not as clumsy as the cubs. He doesn’t knock things over.”

  “The cubs understand what they do when they serve the Red Tongue,” said Shongshar softly. “Does your treeling?”

  “No,” Thakur admitted. “He understands only the actions necessary to care for it.”

  “He does not share the feelings that we have for the fire-creature. He does not know its strength and its power.”

  “No,” the herding teacher replied, his green eyes glowing angrily. “How can you expect a treeling to understand such things? There is no need for him to understand. He just does what you tell him.”

  “Then he is an animal, like the dapplebacks and three-horns,” said Shongshar with a hiss in his voice and a gold glitter in his eyes. “He is witless, like my cubs that you and Ratha took from clan ground. Is an animal to serve the Red Tongue?”

  Ratha felt her own eyes narrow and her nape rise. “Enough, Shongshar! It is Fessran I would hear, not you.”

  The Firekeeper leader lifted her chin and eyed Ratha coolly. “Clan leader, I share many of Shongshar’s feelings. You know better than I how fiercely we fought for the Red Tongue in the days when Meoran ruled the Named.”

  “Yes, you ran with me then and your feelings were your own,” growled Ratha. She regretted her words as they left her tongue, for Fessran flinched visibly and her amber eyes took on some of the same hard glitter as Shongshar’s.

  “The treeling’s skill is impressive,” she said. “However, I do have some questions. You have only one treeling and there are many Firekeepers. Do you intend to catch more treelings and train them in the same way?”

  Thakur looked at Ratha. “I hadn’t thought about that. I got Aree by accident. He was injured when I found him. It may be difficult to catch others.”

  “If we accepted Aree and let him do the difficult tasks for us, we would no longer try to do them for ourselves,” Fessran pointed out. “What would happen then if the treeling were to run away or get killed?”

  Thakur had come to sit beside Ratha and she felt him tense at Fessran’s words. “I don’t think Aree is going to run away and I am certainly not going to let anyone kill him.” He glared back at the Firekeepers.

  Ratha decided it was time to interrupt. “There will be no talk of killing,” she snapped. “Thakur has offered to share his treeling’s ability and you should be grateful.”

  “Clan leader, we did not mean to offend either you or Thakur,” said Fessran. “We think that the treeling’s skill is valuable, but there are some problems. After all, Thakur did not know what the creature would do when he snatched up a torch and began running around us. I think you would agree that more training is needed before the treeling can really be trusted.”

  Ratha tried to control her temper. Fessran might be irritating, but she had made some points. Aree’s last display showed that the treeling was still unpredictable, and there remained the problem that there was only one of the creatures. Nonetheless, Ratha was pleased with Thakur for trying to jolt the Firekeepers out of their complacency.

  “All right,” she said at last. “Thakur, you are to continue teaching Aree. To make things easier for you, Fessran will assign a Firekeeper to build and tend a fire near your den. Do you both agree?”

  Fessran glanced at Shongshar and looked uncomfortable. “Is there anyone you would like?” she asked Thakur.

  “If you could spare Bira, I wouldn’t mind working with her,” Thakur answered.

  He stayed beside Ratha as the Firekeepers put out their fire and left. He smoothed his ruffled fur with short angry strokes of his tongue.

  “Fessran will let you have Bira,” Ratha said as the dusk closed around them.

  “She may. I wonder what else she’ll do.”

  Ratha looked at him sharply, but he was only an outline and two eyes in the growing darkness. “She will do as I tell her as long as I am clan leader.”

  He sighed. “I wish you hadn’t put it that way,” he said softly and padded away with his treeling on his back.

  During the next few mornings Ratha visited Thakur at his den to be sure Fessran was doing what had been promised. Each time she went, she found Bira there along with a well-made little fire and a stack of wood that was always kept full. The young Firekeeper seemed to enjoy watching Thakur teach Aree. Ratha watched her carefully for signs of the same hostility that other Firekeepers had shown, but there were none.

  Aree’s instruction was progressing well. The treeling seemed to understand that capricious actions, such as those he had performed in front of the Firekeepers, were not acceptable and would result in a scolding. Thakur reported that Aree had become more obedient, and she could see for herself that the herding teacher had managed to accomplish this without breaking the creature’s spirit. Every once in a while Aree looked at Thakur with a mischievous glint in his eyes, but the treeling took his task seriously and never deliberately disobeyed.

  Ratha watched and felt encouraged. Soon Thakur would be able to show Aree to the Firekeepers again, and they would be unable to find any fault with the treeling’s performance. Perhaps she and Thakur could also devise a way to capture more treelings. Aree might be able to lure another one down from the branches. If the captured treeling was a female, she might bear young. Or Thakur might climb one of the fruit trees with Aree and look for a treeling nest that might shelter young ones. If they could find and train more of the creatures, Fessran might be willing to accept the idea.

  She made her plans carefully as she rested in her den or lay atop the sunning rock. Each morning she asked Thakur whether Aree was ready. The last time, instead of saying no, he had told her to assemble the entire clan on the following day. This was something for everyone to see, he said. Not just Firekeepers.

  On the evening before the assembly was to take place, Ratha visited him to be sure he was prepared. She came just before sunset and was only halfway to his den when she heard someone running toward her on the path. Thakur galloped up to her, his whiskers trembling and his fur on end.

  “Aree’s gone, Ratha!” he gasped.

  Disbelief shot through her. “What? He can’t be. You never leave him alone.”

  “I did. Just for a little while. I left him curled up in my den. I had to get some wood; Bira let the woodpile get low. Thornwood is best, but I can’t get into a thicket with Aree on my back, so I left him.”

  “How long ago?” She began to pace beside him.

  “I had just come back from teaching my herding pupils. I left Aree in my den, went to get wood, and when I came back I couldn’t find him. I looked everywhere,” he added mournfully.

  “Did you try to track him?”

  “Yes, but there was such a smoky smell in the air that I couldn’t follow his scent.”

  They reached his den. Ratha trotted over to the ashy bed where the teaching fire usually burned. She lifted her nose and sniffed. Thakur certainly was right: the air was too acrid to detect the treeling’s scent. Carefully she pawed the dirt and cinders. If the fire had been burning recently, they would still be hot. They weren’t.

  Then why did the whole place smell like someone had been throwing ashes around, she wondered.

  “Where’s Bira?” she asked, suddenly.

  “She’s not here. She only helps me in the mornings. I thought I’d build a fire myself and then g
et a Firekeeper to light it.”

  Ratha glanced up at the few trees that stood about the den. Their branches were outlined against the red and gray sunset, but she saw nothing on them that looked like the hunched form of a treeling. She helped Thakur look through the bushes, but neither one of them found anything.

  The wind had begun to stir, blowing away the acrid smell in the air, but Aree’s scent had faded too. The treeling was gone and there was nothing either one of them could do about it.

  Thakur crawled into his den and laid his head on his paws. “It’s my fault,” he moaned. “I shouldn’t have left him alone. Aree, wherever you are, please come back. I miss you.”

  “Thakur,” Ratha said softly, “I have to go and tell everyone that the gathering won’t happen tomorrow.”

  “Tell the mothers they can keep their cubs for the day,” Thakur growled. “I don’t feel like teaching. I may be doing some other things, such as asking a lot of questions. Maybe I should start now.” He raised himself up and started to crawl out of the den, but Ratha put a paw on his back.

  “No,” she said. “You stay here. If there are any questions to ask, I will ask them and I will bring you the answers.”

  “I suppose you can get better ones than I can.” Thakur laid his head on his paws again.

  His dejection and the misery in his voice made Ratha hot with indignant anger. Whoever had taken the treeling or driven it away had done more than deprive Thakur of a companion. They had stolen his hope and wounded him badly.

  She licked him gently on the forehead, trying to comfort him in his grief and anger. At last he fell into a troubled sleep and she left, resolving that she would either find Aree or have her revenge on whoever had stolen the treeling.

  Chapter Twelve

  The face of the sunning rock was lit with orange as Ratha emerged into the night meadow. Against it, she could see the forms of the assembled Firekeepers, and in front of it, someone paced back and forth. Ratha could hear the drone of a voice mixed in with the hiss and roar of the bonfire.

  Irritation stung her and quickly turned to anger. The Firekeepers were meeting again without her permission and without her knowledge. Again they had built the nest for their overfed fire right at the base of her sunning rock.

  Too angry to feel unwelcome, Ratha galloped across the meadow and pushed her way through the gathered torchbearers until she faced the firelit form in front. She felt the warning touch of fear when she realized that it was Shongshar, not Fessran.

  She looked for the Firekeeper leader and found her sitting off to the side. Her eyes were narrowed and cold, but suddenly they opened and a false welcoming expression forced itself onto Fessran’s face. That look on the face of one who had been a friend made Ratha’s belly twist and she looked away.

  She turned instead toward the others and saw Bira sitting behind Khushi, crouching as if she wanted to hide. Nyang was in front of the crowd, gazing at Shongshar with a rapt expression and adoration glowing in his eyes. Someone else also sat in front, someone she had not expected to see.

  The herder Shoman turned and stared at her, his eyes filled with uncertainty. Slowly he lowered his head and began to lick his foreleg. The motion drew Ratha’s gaze to his leg. She saw an ugly red streak that oozed and glistened in the orange light.

  “Clan leader.” Fessran rose to break the tension that Ratha’s arrival had brought. “I am glad you have come. I was going to send Nyang to fetch you.”

  Ratha ignored her. “Why is Shoman here? What happened to his leg?”

  “Ask him,” said Shongshar and looked toward Shoman.

  The herder answered, “I ... was warming myself by the herders’ fire. There were no Firekeepers there. I tried to give the Red Tongue more wood, but it grew angry and hurt me.”

  “You have done wrong, Shoman,” said Fessran severely. “Only the Firekeepers may tend the Red Tongue. You should have gone and fetched one of us.”

  “Why is he here?” Ratha demanded. “If he has done wrong, let Cherfan punish him since he is a herder, not a Firekeeper.”

  “He has come to make amends,” answered Fessran. “He agreed to come and show the cubs what can happen if the fire-creature is angered by carelessness.”

  Ratha looked again at Shoman. He crouched, huddled, nursing his leg and grimacing in pain. His glance was furtive and resentful. Fear flitted across his face as he caught Shongshar’s gaze; she knew he hadn’t come here by choice.

  “All right!” she cried, suddenly sickened. “The cubs have seen enough. Shoman, go to Thakur and have your wound tended.”

  Shoman slunk off into the darkness, limping. The look he gave Ratha was still heavy with resentment, but there was a strange tinge of relief in his eyes.

  “We are glad you have come, clan leader,” said Fessran. “You have seen with your own eyes the danger the Red Tongue presents to herders, who are not trained to care for it properly.”

  Ratha waited, trying not to twitch her tail. Fessran eyed her and continued, “As leader of the Firekeepers, I am asking you to forbid anyone to approach the Red Tongue unless one of us gives permission. This would prevent any of the herders from injuring themselves as Shoman did.”

  “I am glad you are concerned about those who provide meat for the clan,” she answered, letting a little sarcasm creep into her voice. “However, I don’t think the herders would like it if they had to ask a Firekeeper for permission to warm themselves or see by the Red Tongue’s light.”

  “Cubs do not like being forbidden to do dangerous things, but we must restrict them to keep them safe. Those who do not understand the fire-creature’s ways should not meddle with it,” said Fessran.

  Ratha gathered her temper as she faced the Firekeeper leader. “Fessran, I understand your worry and I agree that there is some danger, but I wish to hear from the herders themselves before I make any decisions.”

  “That is reasonable, clan leader,” Fessran answered.

  Those who do not understand the fire-creature’s ways should not meddle with it. Ratha turned to the group, repeating Fessran’s words silently in her mind. Did that include Thakur and his treeling as well as ignorant herders?

  She surveyed the gathering, looking briefly into each face, as if she could find an answer there. Some of the Firekeepers answered her gaze directly, some held hidden defiance and others were uncertain or afraid.

  “All of you know the herding teacher Thakur and the treeling he carries on his back,” said Ratha. “Some of you were at the gathering where he showed us how Aree could tend the fire-creature.” She looked meaningfully at each one of them. “I have just spoken with Thakur. The treeling is gone. We can find no trace of him. I came here to ask if anyone has seen him or knows where he might be.”

  “When did this happen?” Fessran said, and Ratha heard honest concern in her voice.

  “This evening. He had to leave Aree in his den while he went to get thornwood. He says he wasn’t gone long and when he came back, Aree had vanished. Does anyone know where the treeling is?”

  The Firekeepers looked at each other and muttered negatives. Ratha waited.

  “Perhaps the tree-creature ran away and returned to his own kind,” said Shongshar, after a long silence.

  “That is possible, but Thakur and I don’t think so.”

  Fessran crossed in front of the fire and sat down beside Shongshar. “Poor Thakur. He really liked that queer little animal. I didn’t think that he should have taught the creature how to play with the Red Tongue, but I didn’t want Thakur to lose him.” She thought for a moment. “I suppose you are wondering why he disappeared this evening, since we were to see him perform again tomorrow.”

  Fessran’s gaze softened and Ratha felt less irritated with her, although she could not allow her suspicion to relax. Either Fessran knew nothing about Aree’s disappearance or she was good at deceit.

  “Yes, I was wondering about that,” Ratha admitted.

  “I tell you honestly that I knew nothing about it
until you came to this gathering. I don’t think Shongshar knew either.” She turned to her companion. “You were with me all day, so there was no way you could have known until Ratha told us.”

  “I did not know, clan leader,” Shongshar said, but Ratha found it difficult to tell whether truth was hiding behind his orange gaze. Fessran had begun to pace back and forth, her tail shaking with indignant anger.

  Ratha wondered if she was outraged because Thakur’s treeling had been taken or because her Firekeepers were under suspicion.

  “Hear me, torchbearers!” Fessran cried. “What has been done to Thakur is a shameful thing. I have disagreed with him, but he is my friend. If any of you have had a part in this or have knowledge that you are concealing, come forward now.”

  She strode up and down in front of them, glowering at them. No one moved, except Bira, who shivered.

  “Then you are all innocent,” said Fessran in a low voice. “If I am wrong and someone is hiding his guilt, then may the Red Tongue burn in his throat until his tongue falls from his mouth in cinders!”

  Ratha felt her breath catch in her own throat. For a moment the Firekeeper leader looked like the old Fessran, the friend who had fought beside her against the old clan leader and whose fierce love and loyalty had sustained her during the chaotic days after Meoran’s death.

  I have no right to judge you, Fessran, she thought suddenly. We have both changed more than we wished.

  Fessran came to Ratha and looked her directly in the face. “Neither I nor any of the Firekeepers have done such a shameful thing,” she said. “You must accept that as truth, clan leader.”

  “If I can,” Ratha answered softly as she turned to go.

  Sadly she returned to Thakur and told him that she had learned nothing. Even her suspicions were difficult to justify; for now she felt she had best keep them to herself. It was possible that the treeling had run off to find a mate among his own kind, she suggested.