Furies of Calderon (44 page)

Marat sprinted to the stones at the hilltop, though none of them stepped within their circle, pressing close, eyes wide and excited, gripping weapons, crowding to get close to see—and even so, they split themselves into three separate groups: slab-shouldered, heavily muscled Marat of Clan Gargant; Clan Wolf, silent and fang-toothed and hungry-looking; and Clan Horse, tall and lean with their hair shaved into wind-tossed white manes. The isolated hilltop transformed into the center of a seething mob, excited murmurs, brandished weapons, and threatening glances. Tension and violence rode on the air like leashed lightning, pent-up and straining for release.

Doroga moved then, standing atop his stone, and held his arms above his head. “Silence!” he roared, and his voice smothered sound atop the hill. “Silence, on the
horto
! Silence as a question is brought before The One!”

Tavi stared around him at the reaction his words had caused and discovered that he had turned and pressed his back to Fade. His limbs shook with reaction. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that Fade had assumed that same distant expression as before, eyes focused on nothing, though he had clasped one arm across Tavi’s chest, fingers gripping the opposite shoulder steadily.

“Fade,” Tavi whispered. “Are you all right?”

“Quiet, Tavi,” Fade whispered back. “Do not move.”

Silence stretched over the hill, the sound of moaning wind the only noise. From the corner of his eye, Tavi could see Skagara, crouched before his stone, staring at Tavi with something very like hatred. Some instinct warned Tavi not to make eye contact, that it would only set the Marat into a killing rage—and that all of Clan Wolf would follow their headman, turning the ring of stones into a blood-spattered slaughterhouse.

Tavi did not move. He barely breathed.

“We-the-Marat,” Doroga said, turning in a slow circle. “We are the One-and-Many people, under The One. We prepare to march against the Alerans. We go to war at the words of Atsurak of the
Sishkrak-ha
. Atsurak the Bloody.” His words spat the next words, and Tavi heard the insolent contempt in them. “Atsurak the Whelp-killer.”

Snarls bubbled in the throats of dozens of Marat Wolves on the hilltop, and once again came the low, harsh howls of dire-wolves from somewhere down the slope and out of sight.

Doroga turned to face Clan Wolf without turning away from them, no trace of fear showing in his face. “Our law gives him that right, if none step forward to call him mistaken. To call him to the Trial of Blood.” His finger swung to point at Tavi. “This Aleran calls Atsurak mistaken. This Aleran says that his people are no enemy of the Clans.”

“He is
not
of the Clans,” Skagara snarled. “He has no voice here.”

“He stands accused with his people,” Doroga shot back. “And the accused have a voice at the
horto
.”

“Only if the headmen of the Clans decide that they do,” said Skagara. “I say he does not. You say he does.” He narrowed his eyes and stared at Hashat. “What says Clan Horse?”

Hashat only then unfolded from her relaxed slouch on her stone, rising and facing Skagara without speaking for a moment, the wind tossing her mane out to the side like a banner. Then she turned, took a step into Doroga’s shadow, and folded her arms. “Let the boy speak.”

Tavi swallowed. He glanced back at Fade and then slipped away from the slave, standing as straight as he could manage. He looked around the circle, at the Marat all staring at him with expressions of curiosity, contempt, hatred, or hope. “M-my people,” he began, and choked, coughing, his stomach fluttering so nervously that he abruptly became certain he was going to sick up again.

“Hah,” spat Skagara. “Look at him. Too afraid even to speak. Too afraid to bring what he believes before The One.”

Doroga shot the Wolf headman a narrow-eyed glance. Then looked back at Tavi and said, “Valley-boy. If you would speak, now is the time.”

Tavi nodded, swallowing a sour taste from his mouth, and straightened again. “I am not your enemy,” he said. His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. This time it came out stronger, ringing clear among the stones again. “I am not your enemy. My people have sought no quarrel with the Marat since before I was born. I don’t know who this Atsurak person is—but if he says that we want to hurt your people, he’s a liar.”

The words rang among the stones and fell on an odd and puzzled silence. Tavi glanced over at Doroga and found the Gargant headman staring at him with his head cocked to one side. “Liar.” Doroga frowned, and lowered his voice to a confidential murmur. “I do not believe Atsurak has mated with any of yours. If that is what you mean. He does not lie with Alerans.”

“No,” Tavi said, nervous flutters coming back into his stomach. “A liar. He’s telling lies.”

Doroga blinked again. Then nodded, as though in sudden comprehension. He raised his voice again and said, “You believe he speaks mistakenly.”

“Yes,” Tavi said. “Wait, no! No, a lie is different than a mistake—”

But Tavi’s words went unheeded as a shout rose up from the Marat around the hilltop.

Skagara leapt atop his rock and raised his arms for silence. “Let him challenge! Let this Aleran whelp test his beliefs before The One! Let him face the Trial of Blood with Atsurak and end this matter!” Skagara sneered toward Tavi. “Atsurak will split his belly open before he can scream.”

“Atsurak is not here,” Doroga said, lifting his chin. “I am the eldest headman present. And it is thus my duty to take up the challenge to Atsurak’s belief in his place.”

Skagara’s eyes widened. “Atsurak,” he said, “would not approve.”

Doroga bared his white teeth. “Atsurak,” he repeated, “is not here. I will defend his belief as is proper.”

Skagara growled. “As well. The strength of Doroga is well known. He will break the Aleran in the Trial of his Clan, even as Atsurak would do in a Trial of Blood.”

“Kitai,” rumbled Doroga. “Step into the
horto
.”

The boy that had cut Tavi before appeared nervously at the head of the crowd—from behind the ranks of Clan Horse, Tavi noted. Doroga saw it as well and scowled. “Get in here, whelp.”

Kitai hesitated at the edge of the stones, then hurried inside, steps carrying him lightly over to stand on the ground beside Doroga’s stone.

Doroga put his hand on Kitai’s shoulder. “In this, I ask you to stand for me. Will you?”

Kitai swallowed and nodded, without speaking.

Skagara snarled. “Then draw the circle. Bare the contestants. Let the spawn of Doroga show the strength of the sire. The Aleran is no match in a Trial of Strength, even for your whelp, Doroga.”

“The trial of Clan Gargant is the Trial of Strength,” Doroga said. “But Kitai is not yet Bound to a Clan. And the trial of Clan Fox, the Clan of my whelp’s mother, is the Trial of Wits. Kitai may accept challenge in either. And I decree that in this the Fox Trial best serves the interest of the Marat.”

Hashat frowned at Doroga, as though she didn’t fully understand, but she said, “I second Doroga’s opinion. Let us bring the question before The One.”

“No,” Skagara spat. “The Fox Clan is no more.”

Doroga spun toward Skagara again and advanced a step on the other man. His hands closed into fists with a rippling crackle of popping knuckles, and his jaws bulged where he clenched them. He came to a stop, across the pool from the Wolf headman, shaking with a visible effort to restrain himself.

“I think,” Hashat said, quietly, “that Doroga believes you mistaken, Skagara. I think he wishes to bring the matter before The One in the Blood Trial of the Wolf Clan.”

Skagara gave one glance to Hashat and then stumbled back and off of his rock. “I will not forget this, Doroga,” he said, voice strained, high. “Atsurak will know how you have perverted our laws for your purposes.”

“Get out of my sight,” Doroga said in a quiet, dreadful voice.

Skagara retreated, behind an uneasy wall of warriors of Clan Wolf and down off of the hilltop.

Uneasy talk broke out among the Marat watching, but Doroga turned in a circle, speaking to them. “Go back down. Hashat and I will arrange the trial. We will let The One help us decide what path we will walk.”

The Marat departed then, peaceably, though there continued to be much talk among them, and though the Wolves seemed to retreat down the hill cautiously, many fangs bared, low growls warning away those who came too near.

A few moments later, Tavi and Fade stood with the three Marat alone. Doroga gave his shoulders a shake and blew out a long breath. “Very well,” the Marat said. “Hashat. What do you think is an appropriate trial?”

The Horse headman shrugged her shoulders. “The usual for this
horto
.”

Kitai drew in a quick breath.

Doroga grimaced. “You know what I’m trying to do.”

“The Wolf is right about one thing. You challenge tradition with this, if not the law. If you stretch things too much, you will lose the support of your own Clan, and mine. Best, I think, if you stay close to tradition wherever you can now.”

Doroga looked at Tavi, then at Kitai. “Are they old enough?”

Tavi stepped forward. “Wait just one second, here. I did what you said you wanted me to do, Doroga. What have I gotten myself into?”

Hashat turned to Tavi. “Aleran. You are alive, and not a meal. For that, you should give your thanks to Doroga, and be silent.”

Tavi snapped, “I don’t think so. This place almost exploded today. I’m being used. I think it’s polite to at least tell me how. And why.”

Hashat narrowed her eyes and laid a hand on the hilt of her saber, but Doroga shook his head. “No. He is correct.” Doroga moved back to his stone and sat down, heavily. “Valley-boy, you have agreed to a Trial of Wits with Kitai. The victor in the trial will be considered to hold the favor of The One in the question you raised.”

Doroga frowned at his whelp and then said to Tavi, “It is my wish that you should win I can take my people from this conflict. But it may not be the desire of The One.”

“I know it isn’t mine,” Kitai said. The young Marat nodded to his father and then said to Hashat, “Is your offer still open?”

The Horse headman glanced at Doroga. Then nodded to Kitai. “Of course.”

Kitai nodded at that and then stepped close to Tavi, multicolored eyes narrowed. “Wits or strength, it doesn’t matter to me, Aleran I will beat you.” Then he shot Doroga an angry glance and stalked off down the hill.

Doroga said to Hashat, “See to it that they are prepared.” Then he turned and walked down the hill after his whelp Hashat folded her arms over her chest and eyed Tavi.

“Well?” Tavi asked. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You will leave this night, to return with the Blessing of Night from the Valley of Trees,” Hashat said, simply. “Who returns with it first is the victor of the trial. Follow me.” The Marat started off down the hill, lean legs taking long steps

“Blessing of Night, Valley of Trees Right, fine.” Tavi turned to follow her, but stopped as Fade caught at his shirt. Tavi turned to the man, frowning “What is it?”

“It is what the Marat call the Wax Forest.” Fade looked past Tavi to the retreating Hashat, his scarred face haunted. “One of you will surely die.”

Chapter 27