Sisters of Syr (The Moon People, Book Four)

by Claudia King

  Befriending such an accomplished apprentice might have helped Kiren cope with her present situation, but much like her uptight cousins back home, Sephonie was the type to regard those of lesser ability with distaste rather than compassion. It was an attitude Kiren knew all too well, and it made her nights in the apprentice's cave long and uncomfortable.

  Refusing to be outdone by the other girl, Kiren wrapped her sleeping furs around her shoulders and picked up her clothing. She sneezed as she shuffled out into the misty morning air, hurrying toward the pools before dawn broke and Netya came looking for her. The freezing water made her teeth chatter, but it helped dispel some of her grogginess. She watched a pair of figures stoking a fire near the seers' cave with envy. If she was lucky, perhaps there would be time to warm up before Sister Netya swept down from the upper slopes and started rapping her staff impatiently.

  It would have been easier with Vaya here. At least then she would have had someone to talk to. At first she had hoped to befriend the huntresses of Adel's clan, sharing the tales of her journey with women who could appreciate them. Her training took up all of the day, however, and by nightfall the huntresses had always departed to seek prey beyond the valley.

  She dragged herself shivering from the pool, patting down her body with her sleeping furs. Soon it would be too cold for morning bathing. Clammy strands of hair hung down her back, prolonging the chill. She would have to cut her messy locks short again soon. Pulling up the supple headband that hung around her neck, she tucked her hair back out of her eyes and dressed as quickly as she could. The sun had not swept its way into the valley yet. With a little luck she would still have time to eat and dry off before Netya came.

  To Kiren's surprise she heard laughter as she approached the fire. The two figures tending it were hunched together beneath a heavy fur blanket, whispering and giggling under their breath. Most of the other seers had seemed a dour sort to Kiren, especially those who woke early to prepare for the day ahead.

  The pair shushed themselves suddenly when she stepped into view, one of them tensing up in surprise.

  “Don't stop for my sake,” Kiren said, stifling a yawn. “I could use some good cheer.” Yet again she was taken off guard when she realised that the pair were a young man and a woman, both of a similar age to her. They looked sheepish, as if they had been caught doing something forbidden. Kiren squinted at the couple for a moment. “Men are supposed to stay outside the valley, aren't they?”

  The girl, short and soft of features, poked her head out from beneath the blanket. Though the roots of her hair were dark, most of it had been stained a striking ochre red.

  “You won't tell the elders, will you? Their mates are the only men allowed here.”

  “She's the new girl,” the boy whispered. “Clan Mother Octavia's daughter.”

  “Kiren,” she corrected him, easing herself down next to the fire. The pair stared at her for a moment as she rolled out her sleeping furs to dry. “Who are you two? I've never seen you in the apprentices' cave.”

  Realising that Kiren was not about to get them into trouble, the pair relaxed again.

  “My name is Wren,” the girl said. “I'm not a seer like you. My mentor is Craftsmother Briar.”

  The boy smiled at her, waving a hand in greeting. “Pera. If you want to know anything about the valley, you should come to me.”

  “She should not come to you,” Wren insisted. “You aren't even supposed to be here!”

  “Still, I've lived in this valley longer than the other men.”

  “No, you haven't.”

  Kiren looked between the pair of them. “You were with the witches from the start?”

  Pera nodded. “I came here when I was...” He counted off on his fingers, stumbling a little when he ran out. “Thirteen? Fourteen years?” He uncurled his fingers and started counting again. “That was five summers ago.”

  “Adel made him learn counting,” Wren said. “He isn't good at it.”

  Kiren smiled a little. Counting had always seemed natural to her, but perhaps that was only thanks to her pack's elders drumming it into her head in their attempts to teach her a craft. She could easily break the numbers off so that ten could be counted upon a single finger, all the way up to ten tens, or even more. Unlike Sephonie, however, she had no desire to rub that knowledge in the face of others. She had been on the receiving end of such mockery more than enough times in her life.

  “The huntresses in my pack always said there was no need to count more than your fingers could manage,” Kiren said. “Only the elders have to worry about that.”

  “And craftswomen,” Wren added. “When my mentor asks me to make three dozen spans of cord, I had better not make her two and a half by accident.”

  “Does she also have you up at the break of dawn?”

  Pera cut in, “No, but this is the only time we can spend together without anyone noticing I'm here.”

  “It's usually only the huntresses who are awake at night,” Wren said, “and Fern has them pretend not to see us.”

  Kiren leaned in closer to the fire, tousling her hair so that it would dry quicker. “If you two want to spend so much time together why aren't you mated? Then you wouldn't have to sneak around.”

  The pair shared an amused, slightly uncomfortable look.

  “I don't want to be his mate,” Wren said.

  “She's my friend, not my woman,” Pera added. “That would be strange. Not that she isn't fun in the furs, but...”

  “...We wouldn't want to be joined like that,” Wren finished. “We're not in love like Netya and Caspian.”

  Kiren's eyebrows perked in recognition of the name. Caspian had been the man she met at the gathering, the one who had first encouraged her to come here. She did not know how to feel about this revelation that he was her mentor's mate. Still, that was a thought for another time.

  As she spoke with Wren and Pera she felt a lightening in her chest. They were friendly and easy to converse with, and they seemed to shrug off the rules of their pack the same way Kiren had always done. The swell of happiness was tinged with heartache, however. The last time she shared such friendly company had been back on her journey. Back before she and Vaya were the only ones left alive.

  It was not in Kiren's character to dwell on such dismal thoughts when she had a reason to feel happy, however. She liked talking to her new companions, and for the first time in many days the dark cloud hanging over her future began to lift. When the morning sunlight washed over the stones around them, it felt far too soon.

  “We should go,” Wren sighed, gazing off toward the southern slopes of the valley. “Briar needs me to gather more green bark today. I'd best do it now, or she'll make me go when I'm tired.”

  “I'll get it for you,” Pera said. “Better go before they catch me anyway.”

  “No you won't. You don't know how. The last time you got tree bark for me you took it off the trunk.”

  Pera shrugged. “That's where most of it is.”

  “That tree could've died! You need to know how to do it properly, off the branches—and only the ones that can be safely cut.”

  “You know about plants?” Kiren asked, perking up again.

  “Not the same way the seers do, but I have to know most of them for crafting and foraging.”

  “Could you show them to me? All the ones in the valley? Sister Netya has me staring at dead herbs in the dark all day. I cannot remember anything like that.”

  “Of course!” Wren beamed at her. “Come with us. Pera has to cross the ridge back to Orec's den anyway. Just don't let him touch the plants.”

  Kiren glanced anxiously up the valleyside toward Netya's den. She could not see her mentor heading down yet. Was this foolish? Was she getting herself into trouble like she always did?

  No, it wasn't foolish, it made sense. If she was miserable staring at herbs in that gloomy alcove all day long then she had to learn another way. How could her mentor object if she came back and impressed her
with knowledge of all the valley's plants?

  She leaped to her feet ahead of Wren and Pera. “Come on then! Let's not waste any of the morning. I want to see every single plant and where it grows.”

  “You are a dedicated apprentice,” Pera said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and swatting Wren with the other. “We'd better be quick. We've already stayed too long.”

  Leaping into the shapes of their wolves, the young trio abandoned their fur blankets and bounded off into the valley, streaking out across the rippling grass toward the southern ridge.

  No sooner had they departed than the first early risers began to emerge from the seers' cave, conversing in exasperated tones as they saw to the half-built fire and tidied up the furs that had been left carelessly strewn around it.

  Once they were out of sight of the den they reverted from the shapes of their wolves, the trio's elated laughter spilling into the sun-bright valley now that the run had woken them up. Kiren felt enthused for the first time in days, eager to explore and learn and spend more time with her new companions.

  Wren strode on ahead, leading the hike up the valley's southern slope. Pera walked with such a relaxed pace by comparison that soon he was falling behind, humming a tune to himself that eventually broke out into a beautifully versed song. Kiren's footsteps slowed, reeled in by the allure of the young man's voice. There had been so few good singers in her mother's pack, and not a single one of them male. Hearing the way his deep voice turned the sounds over in the air, polishing and enriching them, she could not help but linger and listen.

  Once Pera had finished singing a verse about a bird who plucked the peak from a mountain, he stopped and flashed Kiren a smile. “Would you let me sit around your camp and sing, even if that was all I'd ever do?”

  “For a voice like yours? Of course I would.”

  “Then you like singing more than any of the others. I keep telling them, all I want to do is make everyone's time around the den happy. But they say singing is only for celebrations, after a hunt or a couple's mating. I want our pack to feel that way all the time.”

  “And they don't let you?”

  Pera shook his head. “They say I should be learning a craft by now, that singing is a child's distraction from real work. I don't think that's true. Thinking of words that sound well together and deciding how to shape them with my voice takes just as long as weaving a basket or hunting a deer.”

  “It must be difficult. I would never know how to make a song without someone teaching me.”

  “Maybe when I am an elder I can take a singing apprentice of my own, then no one will be able to say it is not a true craft.”

  Kiren gave him a soft smile. “I know how it feels. I never knew my true calling. Perhaps I still don't, even now, but my pack always pushed me to learn crafts I had no passion for. At least you have your singing.”

  “I hope Alpha Orec finds value in it some day. We have plenty of hunters and craftspeople already, but no good singers. Wren is the only one who understands.” He cocked his head at Kiren. “And now you, sister.”

  “I have not been here long enough for anyone to call me sister yet.”

  Pera shook his head with a teasing look. “You're not my sister from this clan. I was born to Octavia's pack too. We must have been babes together, before I was sent away.”

  Kiren's heart leaped in surprise. “Truly? I cannot remember you. I was only a girl when my mother took control of the clan, but I was old enough to remember the other children.”

  “The mothers were giving away their male sons to other clans even before that. Maybe they foresaw what was to come, or just hoped for it.”

  “What happened to you?” Kiren asked, deeply curious to learn what befell the many boys who had been sent away from her clan in the years surrounding her mother's ascension.

  “I cannot tell you much. I must only have been a few years old at the time. I remember looking up at the stars as we travelled, then being very cold, and very sad. A man called Alpha Ulric said he would make me a strong warrior now that I was free of those women who spat upon the ways of our people.” Pera's features scrunched up into an expression that made him look much younger, and Kiren could almost see the face of the frustrated young boy he must have been back then. “I didn't much like Ulric or his pack. I was with him for most of my years, till I was old enough to come to the gathering with the adults. I thought if I had been taken away from my pack there once already, then perhaps the gathering was where I could find another place to run away to.”

  “And you found the witches? They seem a strange pack for a boy to join.”

  Pera shrugged. “I found Wren. I thought if I could live among people like her, I didn't care what their clan was like.”

  Kiren glanced at the girl walking ahead of them, then lowered her voice slightly. “Do you regret it? I don't mean going with Wren, but joining this pack.”

  He gave her a quizzical look. “You sound as if you don't like it here.”

  “I am not sure what I think yet. I don't trust the den mother.” Kiren's eye twitched. “I have known people like her before.”

  Pera put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Well, trust me when I say that this is a good place to be. The witches have their rules, and Adel is a strict leader, but they will always treat you fairly. Orec and his pack too. I have never regretted coming here.”

  “Even if they don't let you sing?”

  He snorted in amusement. “As if any other pack would.”

  Kiren pondered for a while as they walked, her brow knotted in contemplation. “We shouldn't just do as our elders tell us. Even the ones who speak with the spirits.”

  “Careful what you say.” Pera ran his fingers along a strand of grass, rubbing the fluff of seed husks from its tip nervously. “The spirits are everywhere in this valley, watching and listening.”

  “Not all spirits are good, nor the people who speak with them. They can lie just like any other man or woman.”

  “Why is it you don't trust them?”

  Kiren remained silent for a moment, then shook her head. “Never mind my troubles. I want to forget them today. Let's catch up with Wren, I want her to tell me about these grasses.”

  “Seers have to know grasses too?”

  Kiren rolled her eyes. “Sister Netya does, so I suppose I must as well.”

  The spread of the trio shifted as they walked on, with Pera falling behind again while Kiren hurried ahead to catch up with Wren. With their male companion's pleasant singing in the background, the two young women foraged through the undergrowth in search of plants. Wren said her tree bark would only be found higher up the ridge, but in the meantime she was happy to fill the pouch in her craftswoman's smock with various bits and pieces from the local flora, gathering hard thorns for use as needles, berries and petals that were no good for eating, but made for excellent paints, and supple green twigs that were thin enough to be woven before they dried hard. Every time they came across a new plant Wren told Kiren what it was called, imparting bits and pieces of her craftswoman's knowledge along the way.

  Joining every plant to a purpose helped them stick in Kiren's memory. When they reached the steep upper slopes she snapped her fingers and pointed to a bush triumphantly.

  “That is the one with the thorns!”

  Wren nodded. “Which is called..?”

  Kiren pursed her lips. It was the one with the thorns... thorns like a snare.

  “Winter's snare.”

  “See, you know it already. When the other plants shrink away from the cold you will see winter's snare all over this part of the valley.”

  They carried on until the ridge's rocky crest blocked their path, the sheer wall of stone stretching upward for a few more tree lengths until it touched the sky. The wind tugged insistently at Kiren's clothing up here, and when she turned around she saw that the den had receded to a collection of colourful specks far below them. She had come this way with Adel when she first arrived, squeezing th
rough a secret pass that led from the witches' valley to the high slopes above Orec's den. Once Wren had trimmed an armful of green branches from a tree they wandered on, pausing a few paces short of the pass.

  “Why don't you come down to Orec's den with me?” Pera said to Kiren. “You could see your friend.”

  “It's almost noon already,” Wren said. “If she wastes much more time with you she won't be back before nightfall, then Netya really will be upset.”

  “Not if she runs back with her wolf. I don't want to go back down there by myself. I'll have no one to talk to all day.”

  Kiren was torn. She wanted to speak with Vaya again and make sure her friend was being treated well, but at the same time there were heavy questions hanging over her next encounter with the huntress. She saw the look of discomfort that crossed Wren's face the moment Vaya was mentioned. To these women, Vaya was an enemy. Worse, she was a traitor and a coward. Yet Kiren had only ever known a brave warrior whose loyalty had saved her life on more than one occasion. Vaya was a heroine to her, and she was not sure if she was ready to delve into why the witches thought otherwise. Not today.

  Turning away from the concealed fissure in the rock, she shook her head and gazed back down into the valley. Part of her was still angry at Adel for treating Vaya the way she had. For revealing things to her that were too uncomfortable to confront.

  “Let's go somewhere else. I have barely seen half this valley since I arrived.”

  Pera looked to Wren and shrugged. “We can take the long path so long as we stay away from the den.”

  The other girl smiled, looking relieved that the conversation had been steered away from the subject of Vaya. “Have you been through the forest yet, Kiren?”

  “No. Sister Netya told me to stay away from there. She said it was home to a great beast.”