Blood Indigo Read online

  “Tokela?” Sarinak said, and ai, but her spouse could be as gentle as fierce. “I understand that this is a fearsome accusation, but you must speak.”

  Tokela started to raise his head, at the last minute seemed to change his mind. Instead he extended his hands, palms up. “I have wandered closer than was wise to the forbidden place, that is true. I often wonder why my mother went there. But this is also true; wherever I was, I didn’t want Mordeleg. He tried to force me, and he threatened my brother Madoc. I do not answer his accusations, because I do not have to answer lies. I only tried to defend myself against him. If Anahli hadn’t interfered, I would be the one who’d asked for arbitration. Now, I merely ask my elders for justice.”

  The wyrhling tugged at Tokela’s hair. A smile appeared beneath the forelock, slight but genuine.

  Inhya wanted to warm to it. All she could think was that Tokela hadn’t truly answered. And when she slid her gaze towards Palatan, she found him peering at Tokela, a slight frown twisting his brow.

  “Alekšu?” prompted Sarinak.

  The frown wiped away, as if it had never been. “The matter is plain. There is no true evidence of possession at present, Mound-chieftain.”

  Sarinak conferred with the other elders, quiet and rapid, then nodded. “It is quite plain to me as well. Such things can get tangled up and mistaken on either side, but there’s no doubt Mordeleg tried to force Tokela. It’s particularly craven when you, Mordeleg, well know Tokela is new to his indigo and unskilled at such play. You have rendered not only insult, but injury, to a member of our Clan and tribe.”

  Satisfied murmurs from the elders. Mordeleg leaned forwards, as if to speak. Galenu once again employed his grip; Mordeleg fell back with a wince.

  “Galenu Hassun-chieftain.”

  “A’io, Sarinak Mound-chieftain.”

  “You are bloodKin to this oških. As he does not have his own wealth, you will see that his sire and dam make compensation of five young and healthy ewes to the herds of Tokela’s sire, kept by your People. Also, Inhya hearth-chieftain has made her will clear to me in this: Mordeleg will not stay here another Sun’s rising. He is banished, from here and for a Sun’s running in all directions, from the heart of the Great Mound.”

  “It will be as you say, Sarinak.” Galenu might be irresponsible in too many ways, but he had also kept his tribe prosperous. Inhya was confident in this much; Galenu would act lawfully.

  “Also, I warn all three of these oških against the Šilombiš’okpulo.” Sarinak’s gaze swept the room. “It is foolish, to wander nigh to such places. They confound the senses… can take our sense from us! If any of you are caught there again, there will be retribution. Do you understand?”

  Tokela and Anahli—after another sideways quick glance, agreed. Mordeleg had to be prodded by Galenu, but he too capitulated.

  “It will be done.” The chieftain’s stave was pounded, a swift four-beat upon the swept stone floor.

  At Galenu’s prompting, Mordeleg rose. His face was flushed in what might have been repentance but more resembled anger. Nevertheless he did his duty: first a duck of his head to the arbitration council, then over to where Tokela was rising. The wyrhling murmured a warning; Tokela looked up, wary and waiting.

  Mordeleg did his duty there, as well, and as prettily as Inhya had ever seen it: a tilt of head with hands outstretched. Tokela’s gaze still would have looked at home behind a nocked arrow, but he recalled his own duty. Though nowhere as obsequious as Mordeleg, he perfunctorily covered the outstretched palms with his own.

  Galenu gave a lift of eyebrow to the Council, then took up Mordeleg’s eating knife and herded his charge away.

  Once they were gone, Tokela couldn’t exit fast enough. The wyrhling followed. Inhya wasn’t sure she was any happier with that last than she had been the previous Sun’s setting. It could only mean more trouble.

  The other elders, including Sarinak, were already exiting in the opposite direction, well rid of the entire business. Palatan was speaking with Anahli—something indeed had happened, for Anahli listened, nodding. As they departed, Palatan raised a hand to Inhya.

  She knew she should follow, ask him his thoughts. Instead, she followed Tokela.

  Voices in the entry tunnel gave her hesitation.

  “Ai, old Galenu has him on a leash for now, to be sure, but that one’s no sorrier for what he did than I believed his lies.” The wyrhling’s voice purled low, insistent. “Watch your tail.”

  A small grunt from Tokela, followed by his low, delighted laugh. Inhya hadn’t heard the like in some turnings of Hoop.

  “I would rather you watched it.” A throaty purr of response. Disconcerting, to say the least; Tokela had so long lacked any emotion in Inhya’s own presence.

  It made her hesitate further.

  “Mmm. Tempting. But I’ve business with your old uncle khatak, and you’ve yet to remove your things to your new den. Not to mention I need a nap. I’m no longer oških, to hunt all Sun and howl all dark. Though you do howl quite nicely.”

  Again the laugh, though self-conscious, and a soft, not-quite silence stretching out, inferring what occupation filled it. Inhya gave a tiny sigh, pursed her mouth sideways and decided to just leave, turning away.

  “So. When both the Moons rise above River, make your way to my love, eh? You can see how you like Ilhukaia, or if River sings any sweeter to you there.”

  Inhya halted. She didn’t hear Tokela’s murmured answer.

  If River sings any sweeter to you…

  Nigh twenty summerings past, thigh-deep in a Riverling, where Lakisa had insisted upon delivering her young like some mad wyrhling.

  River sings sweet to my little one…

  How the blood of the birth, beneath copper-clear water, had not spread and stained River with any normal hue, but wafted downstream more like the discoloured indigo egest of one of the twisted and Shaped creatures.

  Can’t you hear? Lakisa had asked, in a delirium of pain and—now Inhya knew—Other. Even now, She knows him. Do you hear Her?

  Inhya had kept her own answer silent, buried it deep in her heart: N’da, I cannot. I will not. And neither will your son.

  And now, Mordeleg’s talk of the Riverling. Of the forbidden place.

  Inhya’s heart twisted, settled hard. With a dip of chin, she started forwards—

  Only to nearly run headlong into Tokela, returning the way he’d come.

  Tokela jolted back, soft bemusement sliding away. Inhya’s own trepidation overruled any pain his recoil might have given her—in fact hardened further into anger as his gaze rose, just as cross, to level into hers.

  Humiliating, how he could gut her with a glance. Yet for perhaps the first time in too long, Tokela’s eyes were not merely flat, aloof mirrors, coolly deflecting what might seek to touch him. Something stirred—desperate, seeking. No wild-eyed infant born in a wash of River brack and indigo ichor, but the too-small ahlóssa who had sought a foster-mother’s company after they’d sent the bodies of his parents to Fire and River.

  Tokela took in a shallow, shocked breath and broke the gaze, veiling it with forelock and lashes both, colour rising in his cheeks.

  “Tokela?” Inhya tried, soft.

  “I left my knives on the hearth.” Tokela’s gaze stayed downcast, hidden. And when she didn’t move, he slid around her quick as a mouse.

  “Tokela.”

  He didn’t stop, seemed a bit unsteady as he kept on.

  “Tokela.”

  “What?” It was as weary as hers was sharp.

  “Hear me. Please.”

  He stopped halfway to the hearth. Not quite, but almost, a question.

  Inhya had no answer. But she tried. “Take care. The Riverwalker won’t mean to—or perhaps he will—but he’ll hurt you.”

  With each word, the bony shoulders beneath Tokela’s best tunic pulled, more and more, into knotted fishing line. Instead of answering, he continued, steps tottered once then twice. Each time he stiffened, as
if angry, yet bulled on. Just as he reached the hearth, he stumbled hard and fell.

  A startled cry truncated to a whimper within his chest, the smell of singed hair and the whoof of burning fabric. Face against the heat, mouth lax and eyes wide, he stared into the flames as if he couldn’t believe what was happening.

  Inhya fell upon him, knotting fingers in his hair and tunic, hauling him back. Tokela slammed against her and they both went sprawling, flailing, rolling to douse what Fire remained. On his back beneath her, Tokela struggled. Inhya gripped tighter and he gave a tiny, panicky moan, kicked out. His heel caught her thigh and Inhya released him with a grunt, watched in disbelief as he scuttered back on his hind end, holding his burned arm tight against his body. The ends of his forelock fell across his cheeks, a tattered and singed curtain. His breath came in a thin, wheezy pants. Again, she started for him, but he cowered like the lowest cur in a pack, retreating until he backed into the same weapons pillar against which the wyrhling had lounged.

  Inhya gritted her teeth. It was not going to be pretty, but she needed to see just how severe his burns were. She scooted closer, reached out. “Tokela—”

  Another wheeze, and he jerked away as if her touch burned him more than Fire had. Grim, she caught his fingers, held firm as he tried again to shrug her off, retreat.

  “Tokela!” It was sharp as she yanked his arm towards her. “Let me help y—”

  Her voice stuttered to a halt.

  The tunic sleeve had burnt away half up his arm. The scorch of the woven fibres lingered in her nostrils. She could taste, acrid, the scant fur of his arm all singed. But…

  No flesh had burned. His forearm was whole, unmarked. His skin was cool, with the pallor of a dead thing. And the gaze he flung against hers…

  Inhya witnessed it, plain: shadowling sparks of ghost-mist, with scattered clouds and rain and jagged poles of hot silver, StarFire against indigo night.

  And he kept staring at her: the babe she’d pulled from both his dam and River, who’d taken Wind without a sound and looked at her with dark eyes that kenned all she was, and how. And even now as then, try as Inhya might, she saw nothing of Lakisa, nothing of Talorgan who was the only father Tokela had known… nothing of their People.

  A wail built within her chest, strangled itself into a small whimper. She scurried back on her haunches like to frightened rodentKin beneath a winged shadow.

  “You have been with them!” she stammered. “With Chepiś. That is what you were doing at the forbidden place. How many times have they seen you, touched you?”

  StarFire flickered, faded. “H-how?” Tokela husked, too shocked to dissemble.

  “You are not the only one who has seen Other,” Inhya hissed, and rolled to her feet, and fled.

  17 - Shelter

  “Ai, wyrh-chieftain! I thought I might find you hereabouts.”

  So close! Just a matter of a few more strides and he’d have made it. With a gusty sigh, Našobok turned from the beckoning hide of Palatan’s and Aylaniś’ tipo. He knew his expression was less than pleasant; neither did he care.

  But the little Kin of Skybow cock just puffed all the more. Well, Galenu had guts, Našobok had to give him that.

  “I thought to find a bed, a meal, and two lovemates to share both thisdark. You, Galenu stone-chieftain, are none of those.”

  The Skybow cock deflated slightly—but then, Našobok knew just where to wing him. “Not all of us have more lovemates than we know what to do with—”

  “Now you’re just jealous.”

  “—or even wish to have them.”

  Našobok snorted and let his head fall back to contemplate the dusky Sky basket, just starting to fill with Stars. “Tell me another, old one.”

  “You did say you were interested in my cargo?” Galenu reminded.

  Poke the old one sideways, but he was right. Našobok sighed. “How dangerous?” Despite himself, a tiny tickle of anticipation flowered in his belly. First Running had another brace of Suns, and then it would be time to depart. A break from normal trading routine would be welcome, not just for himself but his shipmates.

  Instead of answering, Galenu chuckled. “The oških wearing you out, is he?”

  “Is your oških the outwards cargo? I could wrap Mordeleg in a very tight bag and troll him overboard. He’d make lovely bait.”

  “You tempt me.” Galenu shrugged. “Mordeleg is under the eyes of two of my most trusted bondlings. They’ve no liking for him, believe me, and they’ll see he—and his message—are delivered starting nextSun.”

  The old khatak was quite serious. Still, Našobok couldn’t resist one last jab. “Meaning you don’t want to face his dam when she hears.”

  “Of course.” Galenu’s teeth gleamed. “Have you met Mordeleg’s dam?”

  Našobok’s bark of laughter echoed sharp against the trees. “Well, old khatak, you mentioned danger?”

  “I did.” Galenu’s face lost any levity. “I wasn’t exaggerating, either. You’re the only one I know who’ll dare Serpentback and Mirror Cove.”

  Našobok frowned. Serpentback was a Riverling, true, but only slightly smaller than the great She who’d spawned Her and aptly named, twining treacherous through mountain passes. Many thought it easier to go the coastal route and around—except “around” held tricky currents and fierce grandfather Winds, was laced with Matwau slavers, pirates, and thieves, and for good measure dotted with places twisted and tainted by ancient Chepiś Shapings.

  Mirror Cove was itself a Chepiś place.

  “What could possibly be worth that journey?” Našobok queried. “What do you want so badly, old khatak?”

  “An instrument common enough to Chepiŝ. But to us it could have immense value. I tried to obtain one from my friends, but they refused the first time and I’ve not seen them since. I had to widen my search.”

  “So you’re buying contraband.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “I would. This new source of yours is willing to trade in something others have refused. By any definition, that’s contraband.”

  Galenu was puffing up again. Nothing more indignant than someone caught cheating. “You think to judge me, outlier?”

  “I prefer to judge the accuracy of danger. My people’s lives are worth more than you playing the injured innocent. Don’t feed me shit and call it honey, stone-chieftain, or Ilhukaia won’t as much as raise her sails. What. Are. We. Carrying?”

  “Something your like should welcome, Riverwalker.” Galenu was still indignant. “A forged eye of metal and sand, spun finer than even the downRiver glašg blowers can craft. A device to gauge Stars.”

  “Such a wonder!” Vocal sarcasm insufficient, Našobok rolled his eyes and propped hands on hips. “I know you’re Land-bound and therefore ignorant, Galenu, but surely you know wyrhling already have the finest ways to gauge Stars.”

  “Not like this, you don’t. With such an eye of metal and glašg, we could see the shadows on the twin Moons. We could cross the dawning Sea.”

  “Some of our People did just that, long ago. They came in smaller craft than mine, and found Kin already here. They needed no unhallowed metal eyes.”

  “But many were lost.”

  “Sea is dangerous.” Našobok shrugged. “More so than even River. It is Her way.”

  “If they’d possessed these things, our far-flung cousins could have arrived here in greater numbers, safe.”

  “And perhaps overrun those already here. Instead the lucky ones—the strongest, the most willing to coexist—survived.”

  “But they could have been safer in their navigation—”

  “Safe!” Našobok scoffed. “If such a thing can be had, who can afford it? What price will it demand?”

  “Knowledge outweighs any price.” Galenu’s eyes, flecks of Sky against umber, shone with intent. “What would you do, wyrh-chieftain, to keep your crew safe? To know you could fix yourself more accurately upon Sea, to better make port?”

  “I d
on’t know what I’d do, were my people’s lives handed to me on a balance scale. I’m glad such a choice isn’t mine to make. But I’d hope to never take Sea’s grace for granted.” Našobok watched the trees sway, spiky silhouettes against Dark’s breeze. “You say knowledge. I say weakness. There’s no such thing as safety, and those who think there is? They’re fools playing a dangerous game.”

  “So you refuse.”

  “Not necessarily.” Našobok inclined his head first one side, then the other. “Ai, I need sleep. More, I’ll need good trade for this journey, old khatak. There is little… uhn… safety in your errand.”

  Galenu smiled. “Which is why I came to you. Figure your price and we’ll come to an agreement before I leave. I’ll be here for a while yet.”

  “I know Nechtoun is glad of your company,” Našobok said, and meant it.

  Galenu smiled.

  Našobok turned, nearly had the door flap in his hand as Galenu’s voice sounded again, muted.

  “How is Tokela?”

  Našobok hesitated, slid his eyes towards Galenu. “Why?”

  “Can I not ask out of courtesy?”

  “You can. But generally you don’t.”

  Galenu’s expression was odd. Našobok didn’t trust it, not even a little. “What are you and old Nechtoun contriving now?”

  The old one’s eyebrows rose. “And why should you care?”

  “That should be flaming obvious. What isn’t obvious is why you should.”

  “He’s son to my sister’s son.”

  “And you’d forgotten he existed, until Nechtoun told you of his sketches and his stories.”

  Galenu blinked. “You know of those?”

  “I pay attention, Galenu.”

  “When you’re here.”

  “Which means I need to pay attention,” Našobok agreed. “Unless you intend to send Mordeleg away from midLands, you’ve no business offering a hearth to Tokela. Someone will end up hamstrung, and Tokela deserves better than owing restitution for a spoiled anki’i.”

  Galenu again started to puff up, opened his mouth for what surely would be a heated retort.

  The smell of sweet spice and honey wafted outwards as the door flap behind Našobok was flung open. “I’ve held nutcakes for you long enough, lovemate.”