by Claudia King
—27—
A Forgotten Hope
For the first time since Netya's arrival Adel did not attend their audience with the Dawn King the next morning. One of the priests came to inform Atalyn that the seeress felt unwell, and after her impressive feat of healing the previous day he was unwilling to disturb her. Netya, however, knew better. Even at her most irritable Adel never shied away from important duties. Something was troubling the den mother, but she did not feel comfortable begging Atalyn's leave to go and check on her, especially not when Kiren had also failed to attend that morning. Her apprentice's absence was less of a mystery—long nights awake frequently led to an exhausted Kiren in the mornings—though it still looked disrespectful for her to sleep through an audience with the Dawn King.
Thankfully Atalyn seemed unconcerned. Adel had earned his leniency, and he seemed to have realised that Kiren, being neither a woman of status nor a sun wolf, was no great asset to him. Understanding and compassionate though he was, the Dawn King's mind was always set to matters of leadership, and there was only so much time he could dedicate to his exotic visitors.
“Well,” he said, “if we are to be alone then perhaps we can walk together, Netya. My body will thank me for keeping it limber once the rains arrive.”
“I am sorry for Kiren's absence, Dawn King,” Netya said, following him to his feet with an apologetic bow.
“In truth I was hoping to speak with you alone. The spirits have decided that now is the time, so now the time shall be. Come, there is a path I like to walk up on the hill. None can reach it without going through the temple.”
Atalyn led her out of the meeting chamber and up the steps all the way to the highest tier of the halls. A guardsman shadowed them at a distance and waited by the entrance when they went outside. The wind tugged strongly at Netya's hair up here, and despite the summer heat she felt a slight chill. It was like being up at the top of the valley in the hidden glade, and the view was almost as impressive. Lines of smoke joined the web of paths leading inward to the temple village, making the entire landscape look like the map Kiren had showed her back home. So many lines, both straight and meandering, with dark clusters of houses where they intersected.
“There are our storehouses,” Atalyn said, pointing out a collection of broad, squat buildings on one side of the temple village. “And there is our craftsmen's rise. When this was a trading village, back in my grandfather's time, our houses stood on that rise alone.”
“Did the trade bring you the wood to build all of these other houses?”
“It brought us many thing. Wood, animals, stone, metal, and strong hands most importantly of all. My forebears learned that trade makes for easy disagreements between men, and the more trade there is, the more disagreements they have. Our people became adept at stopping fights and facing down thieves. Soon that was all they did. When warriors from distant villages tried to raid us they paid dearly. We learned that if we could defeat them, we could defeat anyone. I prefer to rule with a soft hand these days, but strength once brought order to these plains, and it keeps them safe from those who would have us go back to the days of blood and pillage.”
“I hate that such things are necessary.”
“Many do, but it is the way of things. That is why you are important to our future, Netya.” He led her further along the path as it curved and took them to the south side of the hill, then back around to the north. They were fast approaching the summit. “My pilgrims will continue travelling to your lands. Metal is plentiful there, while here it is scarce. I'd not stop our young men from making those journeys, but I would try to make them safer. I need your help and Adel's to achieve this.”
“Adel is not a leader quite like you,” Netya said eagerly, “but she is very powerful. If she speaks, many of the other packs will listen.”
“That is what I hope. I have no doubt that she will do everything in her power to make your people stop the bloodshed, but they are only half of the problem. As powerful as I am, my word alone cannot undo generations of fear. The Sun People must be shown that you are not the monsters they think you are.”
“How?”
Atalyn inhaled deeply through his nose, turning his eyes to the west. “You may say no to this request if you wish. It will be dangerous, and it may lead to nothing more than hardship on your part. I want to send you back to the village of your birth.”
Netya felt her stomach twist. She followed Atalyn's gaze to the horizon. Somewhere in that direction lay the great forest, and the small little village she had grown up in. Kale had seeded the idea of returning home back when they were travelling, but it had remained distant and intangible since then: a possibility, but not one that she ever had to act upon.
Now the existence of her village felt suddenly real. It was there, waiting. People would be tending their daily chores. Her mother would be sewing the clothes of the hunters. Animals would be grazing behind the dry stone wall. The thought of returning terrified her.
“You would not go alone,” Atalyn said. “My most trusted warriors would be there to keep you safe. No one from your village would be permitted to harm you.”
“Some would try. Even my own mother saw a monster in me.”
“Yet with spears to stay their blows, they might pause long enough to hear you speak. You would carry my authority with you, and a high priest to proclaim it. If one village could be persuaded to accept what you are, it would reassure me that others might be persuaded also.”
“My people would not recognise your authority. They have never even heard the name Dawn King.”
“The same was true of many villages once, but my priests and my warriors changed that. Whether they know me or not, they will understand my power if I send a grand procession to accompany you.”
Netya chewed her lip. It sounded terribly dangerous. The men of her village had been brave and eager to fight, but they had always fought the Moon People, never their own kind. Even if they wanted her dead, they would probably not risk throwing themselves upon metal blades and spears. If they did, it would be a slaughter. Yet she could not believe her former friends and family would be so bloodthirsty. More likely they would curse and scorn her from afar, making her relive the heartbreak of being cast out all over again.
Layon, though... Her old fiend Layon had helped her the night she fled. There would be others like him who still saw her as a person and not a monster. Layon might even be in a position of status by now, perhaps even akin to a chieftain.
“If I were to go, it would need to be done carefully,” she said. “Perhaps someone could be sent ahead to find my old friends, to ask whether they still think fondly of me.” Another thought occurred to her. “And whoever you sent to accompany me would have to know the truth of who I am.”
“I have warriors suited to the task. A handful of men in my temple already know the truth, and their loyalty is without question. If I tell them to protect you, they will do it.”
“What about your priests?”
“Priests are more difficult.” Atalyn sighed. “They have stronger ambitions and wills of their own. It would have to be one of my high priests, and only Thakayn and Jarek know the truth of who you are. Eral might be accepting of it, but he is young and unaccustomed to leadership. Radeen-Na would do anything I say, yet he is a warrior, not a peacemaker. Hasham and Mountain Sky are too self-serving to be trusted with such a delicate task. It must be either Thakayn or Jarek.”
A chill prickled Netya's skin. “Not Thakayn. Please, Dawn King, I could not make such a journey with him beside me.” The thought unsettled her almost as much as the memories of her time with Alpha Miral.
Atalyn looked a little surprised. “You must forgive him for the way he treated you before. I know my cousin can be cruel, but he was only suspicious of you. His desire to serve the temple overwhelms his compassion at times. He will not mistreat you again.”
Netya's discomfort grew. For some reason Atalyn seemed blind to his high priest's malice, and t
hat made it all the more frightening.
“What did he tell you about that night, Dawn King?” she asked, hoping she was not about to provoke Atalyn's ire.
“He said he found a strange concubine walking the halls in Eral's company. There were sounds of a commotion, and he grew suspicious that something was amiss. When you and the seeress were unwilling to talk, he gave you a cut to loosen your tongue.” Atalyn's leathery features softened. “It was unfortunate, but Adel should have told him the truth. She knows her friends are welcome in my house. It was fear and misunderstanding that forced Thakayn's hand.”
“There was no fear in what he did,” Netya said, feeling the words choke in her throat. “He was slow with his knife. He enjoyed it.”
As she saw Atalyn begin to shake his head she turned around and slipped the gown off her shoulder, letting it fall to reveal the ugly line of the partially-healed wound running all the way down her back.
The Dawn King stared in silence, then turned away. “That is more than he made it seem.”
Netya tugged the gown back up and stepped in front of him, letting him see the fear on her face. “I've known men like Thakayn before. He is not what he seems to you, Dawn King. I know he is your family, but—”
“Enough.”
She fell silent, averting her gaze. Atalyn had shifted from the compassionate elder to the stern alpha, his back straightening as he looked down on her.
“I think you should return to the temple now, Netya. Please think further on my offer. I know that together, you, Adel, and I have the power to make peace between our peoples.”
Her heart sank, but she knew there was no arguing with him. She turned away, swallowing the lump in her throat. She wanted to agree with him. She wanted to share his optimism. If confronting her past was the first step toward bringing an end to generations of bloodshed, then she was willing to do it. Yet if Atalyn could not see the evil living within his own house, what else might he overlook?
“Jarek will be the one to accompany you,” Atalyn said as she began to walk away. “Thakayn and I will speak later.”
The sinking feeling in Netya's chest lifted. She released a stifled breath and turned to thank him, but he was already walking past her toward the temple. His stride was as determined as that of a man half his age. Following after him, Netya felt a twitch of apprehension as she wondered what his determination might mean. With a man as powerful as Atalyn, it was daunting to try and guess.
—28—
Punishment
Thakayn was angry when Rat returned to the temple. It had been a day and a half since he sent her to kill Liliac, and if she had been successful in her task then word would have spread by now. Worse still, the girl approached the temple in the light of the afternoon, revealing herself to the guards and asking after the priest of the Sister directly. It was known that Rat had his blessing to come and go as she pleased, but he still preferred to keep their meetings a secret. The less often she was seen with him, the fewer people would gossip about it.
She appeared at the entrance to one of the small shrine chambers in the temple where Thakayn was making his daily offerings to the Sister. Normally several other priests would have been there with him, but the daily routine had been thrown into disarray following the dramatic scene Adel had made in the feasting hall the day prior. That too had irritated Thakayn. After all the lengths he had gone to to keep the presence of the Moon People a secret, the seeress had gone and made herself the most interesting person in the entire village.
Thakayn looked up from the bowl of oat crumbs he was burning and scowled at the girl in the doorway. The guard accompanying her averted his eyes respectfully, but Rat had no such sense of propriety. She was staring at him anxiously, and the urgency in her expression made Thakayn uneasy.
“Leave us be,” he snapped at the guard, then beckoned Rat in. Once they were alone he said, “I told you only to come at night.”
Ignoring his words, she pulled down her hood and hurried forward. “The shaman is missing. I tried to give him the test, but a stranger intervened.”
The uneasy feeling rose in Thakayn's belly. He clenched his fists in an effort to control it. “And you ran back here? You fool! Tell me that Liliac did not realise what you were doing.”
“I don't know. The stranger kept watching me. He made it difficult to slip the tonic into Liliac's cup, and when I did he must have noticed. He knocked the drink away before the shaman could swallow it.”
“Who is this stranger? And where is Liliac now?”
“I don't know! I knew you would ask, so I searched all day for them, but they never came back to Nirut's wayhouse. No one has seen them since.”
That did not bode well. If Liliac was hiding then he knew someone wanted him dead. Thakayn's hands began to tremble in fear, imagining what might happen if the shaman approached the temple and accused Rat directly. Then people would start to question him as well. The indignity of the thought made him furious. Before Rat could see him shaking he lashed out with his fist, catching her in the jaw with the back of his knuckles. She crumpled to the ground, spitting blood.
That made Thakayn felt a little better. He drove his foot into her stomach, reminding himself that he was the one in control. The girl wheezed out a groaning breath, curling into a ball at his feet. His hands had stopped trembling. Instead his heart thumped with restless energy. He could kill her now if he wanted, and the thought of it excited him. Then Liliac would have no one to accuse. It would be easy to drag her body out to one of the seldom-used paths on the hillside and toss her down into the thorny bushes. No one but the birds would ever find her there. But what if someone saw him on the way?
Forcing his hands to unclench, Thakayn flexed his fingers and paced around the girl, examining her expression. Her eyes flashed anger at him, but when he raised his hand she flinched back in fear. There was no reason for him to panic. He was still in control.
“What of the boy I asked you to find?” he said.
Rat pushed herself back against the wall, wiping her mouth hastily as she caught her breath. She looked as if she might run.
Thakayn twisted his lips into a smile. “You have always brought me good news before, Rat.”
With an uncertain nod she said, “Yes, I found him. He was at Nirut's wayhouse too.”
“And?”
Rat frowned, looking toward the doorway again. More than fear now, her face held a look of hurt. She felt that he had betrayed her. With a sigh, Thakayn reached out slowly, ignoring her attempt to draw away, and caressed her cheek.
“Punishment is but one small part of service to the spirits. The Sister will forgive you in time.”
The tip of Rat's tongue probed her bleeding lip. He had shaken her deeply. That was good. The more she feared him, the more forthcoming she would be, and it was high time he tempered the girl's attitude with a little fear.
“I spoke to him,” she began haltingly, “but he would not say much. I asked what happened to his pilgrimage. He told me they were dead. I asked how. He said he did not want to talk about it. The more I asked the less he said, and then he stopped answering me at all.”
“How did he know the girl Eral brought here?”
“I don't know.”
Thakayn took a deep breath, trying to still the unease that was bubbling back into his stomach. His hand slipped to the back of Rat's head and tightened slowly around a fistful of hair. The subtle pressure forced her neck back, exposing her throat. His free hand strayed toward his knife. No, there would be too much blood, and desecrating a shrine... perhaps it would be better not to. He let go and tapped her sharply on the cheek.
“You've disappointed me.”
“Let me try again, High Priest. Give me more of the tonic. I can find the shaman and test him again.” The poor thing looked almost hopeful.
“No, I don't think that's wise. Use a knife this time.”
“But what if he is not cursed?”
“You would not have failed if Liliac's so
ul was pure. Dark spirits protect him now. That is why he hides from the temple's eye. He knows his guilt. Kill him before his darkness spreads any further.”
Rat looked down, angry tears brimming in her eyes. “I didn't mean to fail you.”
“Hush. Win back my love by doing as I say. And Rat—”
The sound of footsteps on the boards outside interrupted him before he could tell her to be more discreet next time. He straightened up sharply and pulled the girl to her feet. A moment later a servant girl lifted the drapes, bowing as she took a half-step inside.
“High Priest,” she said.
“What? Why are you disturbing me?”
“Forgive me, but the Dawn King summons you. He says you are to come immediately.”
“Why?” Thakayn's nervousness had returned again.
“He did not say, only that it was of great importance.” The girl showed him a star-shaped metal talisman hanging around her neck. Atalyn's own personal token.
“Very well,” he said, brushing back a lock of golden hair as he tried to compose himself. He gave Rat a severe look and said, “Do as I have told you,” then departed the chamber with the servant.
Part of him regretted not washing his hands of Rat, but the girl might prove useful to him still. He needed people willing to do his bidding without question, especially if Liliac became an even greater problem. Perhaps it had been unwise to try and kill him. The shaman might have been placated with greater riches, or perhaps the priesthood Thakayn had offered him in the first place.
But then Liliac would have had something to hold over him. At any time he might have threatened to tell the others of Thakayn's ravenous interest in the Moon People. He feared what such a revelation might do to his standing. Atalyn had invited the same suspicion upon himself, of course, by welcoming the wolves into his house, but for some reason he seemed unconcerned with the danger. That was foolish old Atalyn, though, slow to recognise danger even when it was creeping up on him. It frustrated Thakayn that his cousin did not fear the same things he did. People thought him brave, but that was only because they could not distinguish bravery from foolishness. Did he not realise what he might lose if the laypeople learned the truth? What did he even want from the seeress and her kin? Thakayn knew what he wanted, but that was a blasphemous secret that no one else could ever learn. He still prayed that he might have the chance to take the seeress for himself, but that became more difficult day by day. The closer she grew to Atalyn, the further she strayed from Thakayn's clutches.
