Clan Ground (The Second Book of the Named) (19 page)

Thakur had been nosing the treeling and licking her coat. He paused, went back over a spot he had licked before and carefully spread the treeling’s fur with his tongue and teeth.

“Look,” he said, his voice indistinct. Ratha peered at Aree’s back. On the treeling’s skin she saw two bright pink lines side by side. They were half-healed claw marks.

“Now we know that she didn’t just run off on her own,” Ratha said at last. “Someone chased her.”

“And nearly caught her,” Thakur added, his voice grim. Aree shook herself and smoothed her fur. “You were too fast for Shongshar, weren’t you, little tree-climber?”

“So you think it was Shongshar,” she said in a low voice.

“Yes. There is no one else who had as good a reason for getting rid of Aree. He’s convinced that the only way to master the Red Tongue is by strength and fierceness. My Aree proved that there is another way. If the Firekeepers listen to me, they will no longer believe Fessran and Shongshar. Fessran might be willing to change, but not Shongshar.”

“What about Bundi’s accident?” Ratha asked.

Thakur’s eyes narrowed. “That is harder to explain. Shongshar and Bundi were like lair-brothers. Even now, I find it difficult to believe that he could deliberately hurt Bundi.”

“I found his pawprints at the edge of the firebed,” Ratha told him.

“That doesn’t prove anything. Shongshar could have been there earlier, helping to light the fire. No. I think it was Nyang who pushed Bundi.”

“Fessran’s son?” Ratha was startled by this suggestion, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. “Yes. Nyang would do anything to please Shongshar. I have seen how that cub looks at him.”

“Yes, but we don’t have any evidence,” Thakur reminded her.

“You know me too well, herding teacher,” Ratha said, somewhat ruefully. “Until I can prove to myself that Shongshar and Nyang are guilty, I can’t punish them. If they are, they have covered their tracks well.”

“And you may not be able to unbury those tracks. I think we should look ahead on this trail, not back,” said Thakur. “Now that Aree has returned, we can continue training her with the fire.”

Ratha felt a slight twinge of uncertainty. “Do you think that’s really a good idea? I mean ...” She faltered as he stared at her in surprise. “We aren’t sure what happened to Bundi, are we? It might have been the fire-creature itself that burned him.”

“Don’t tell me that you’ve been listening to that dappleback dung! It may be fit for frightening litterlings, but you have more sense.”

She hesitated, thinking about her dream. “I know, but sometimes I’m not sure. What happened to Bundi scared me.”

“It frightened others too. If Fessran had posted a Firekeeper to guard the herders’ fire before Bundi’s accident, the yowls would have set her fur on end. Now no one complains.”

“They’re glad,” said Ratha. “That also frightens me a little. I’m not sure what to do.”

“Help me work with the treelings,” Thakur suggested. “We can continue teaching Aree, and after her little ones are born, we can train them too.”

“Then Fessran won’t worry about having only one tree-ling,” said Ratha excitedly. “She may even decide to help us.”

“Maybe later, but for now we should keep this as secret as we can,” Thakur cautioned.

“Bring Aree to my den this evening, then. I’ll have a fire there. If we keep the Red Tongue small, it won’t be able to hurt her.”

“I will. I have to get back to my pupils now,” he added, glancing over to where several cubs stood watching him with their tails raised in curiosity.

Ratha stayed hidden long enough to be sure that Thakur could manage both Aree and the rambunctious cubs. When she was satisfied that he was in no danger of losing the creature again, she slipped away.

She decided to go and inspect the ground near Thakur’s den for any traces of footprints. The old ashes from the last fire Bira had built for him were still there and the site had been left alone. She might find some faint prints she had overlooked before.

On her way along the path that wound through scattered trees, she heard far-off splintering sounds and cracks. Soon a Firekeeper came hurrying along the trail, with kindling in his mouth. The sounds of breaking wood continued and another Firekeeper followed with a jagged piece of a dead log that he could barely get his jaws around.

Ratha looked after him with mild curiosity. Her interest became stronger when a third wood-carrier followed. As he disappeared, she heard the footsteps of yet another. Bira appeared with a mouthful of fragrant pine twigs. As she approached she ducked her head respectfully to Ratha, which made her drop several sticks. When she tried to retrieve them, she only lost more. She attempted to snag them with her claws and push them into her mouth with her pads, but finally she lost patience and unloaded the whole mouthfuL “I shouldn’t try to carry so many at once,” she said, spitting out pieces of gray bark, “but Fessran wanted us to hurry.”

“Where are you taking it?” asked Ratha. She gathered up some of the scattered twigs and placed them beside Bira’s pile of sticks.

“Oh, the wood isn’t for a gathering fire,” Bira said quickly. “Fessran’s found a cave beside the waterfall and we’re putting wood in there so it will stay dry during the rainy season.”

Ratha helped Bira get all the twigs secured between her teeth and the young Firekeeper trotted away with a grateful wave of her tail.

Ratha stared up the path, thinking. Fessran hadn’t told her about a cave for storing wood. It sounded sensible enough, although there was no need to hurry; the rainy season wouldn’t start for a long time.
I think I’ll just follow Bira up there and look around.

She took the same trail she had taken that morning and soon passed the place where she had found Aree. She saw that her pugmarks had been wiped away under the feet of the Firekeepers who had passed this way. A stray pine twig told her that Bira hadn’t managed to hold onto all her load.

She wondered how long they had been doing this and whether they had stopped when she took the path earlier. She had noticed that the trail beside the creek looked a little more worn than usual, and there were more smells about.

The creek trail ran between great trees whose charred rough bark spoke of the Red Tongue’s passing. Farther on, the path wound around outcroppings of coarse-grained stone that had weathered and crumbled to form a white gravel that crunched beneath her pads. The grade became steep, and by the time she reached the huge granite slab that lay at the base of the waterfall, she was panting slightly.

Ratha stood, letting the wind-blown spray cool her as she studied the tumbled boulders near the foot of the cliff. She tensed as something moved in the shadows. It took form, becoming a head and forelegs. A Firekeeper emerged from a cleft between the rocks. He was so intent on his work that he did not see her, and he soon disappeared out of sight down the trail she had just climbed up.

She threaded her way through the scattered rockfalls until she reached the cleft. She was about to enter when she heard voices echoing inside. Quickly she backed off. One of the voices was Fessran’s. The other, louder one was Shongshar’s.

“I really think we should have told her before we started.” Fessran sounded querulous. “It’s obvious that this will benefit the rest of the clan, not just our Firekeepers.”

“And suppose she doesn’t see it that way,” Shongshar hissed, and the echo from the rock walls added menace to the voice that carried to Ratha. “Suppose she treats this as she has treated our gatherings, showing little respect for us and the fire-creature we serve.”

“She won’t, Shongshar. I ...”

Fessran’s voice faltered and Ratha knew a stray breeze had wafted her scent into the cavern. When the Firekeeper leader came out her face had an odd, tight look as if she were angry but was afraid to lose her temper. Shongshar followed her and fixed Ratha with his strange unreadable gaze. He had changed so much in the time since he had given up his witless young that she no longer knew what to expect from him.

“I was told you were storing wood up here,” she said briskly, not looking at either one of them. “That is a good idea. I would like to see how much you have gathered.”

“Not very much. Why don’t you come back later when we have sorted and stacked it?” Fessran said, with a glance at Shongshar.

“Then show me the cave,” Ratha said flatly, making sure they knew this was no longer a request.

Silently Shongshar turned his gray bulk around and led the way in. Ratha went after him and heard Fessran following. She expected to have to use her whiskers while her eyes adapted to the gloom, but she found that the low tunnel was lit by a faint wavering light.

Her ears caught a soft, steady roar that grew louder as they traveled farther into the cavern. The light grew stronger, making Shongshar into a gray-brown shadow ahead of her and tinting Fessran’s eyes with a ruddy glow.

The sound grew louder still. Ratha, following Shongshar, found herself in a larger cave whose roof arched away into shadow. Crystal-flecked pillars reflected the fierce orange light from the fire that burned in the center of the cavern.

Ratha felt her fur rise. She had been in caves before, but they had been lighted only by the soft phosphorescence of slimy plants that grew on their walls. She had sensed the vastness and emptiness of those underground caverns only by the echoes that reached her ears or by the clammy breeze that seemed to come from the depths of the earth. Now, with the fire’s light, she could examine an entire chamber.

Pillars of rough limestone reared up until they were lost in the shadows that played on the roof of the cave. Fang-shaped stones rose from the floor to guard the entrances to other chambers deeper in the rock, whose ageless emptiness seemed to seep into the cave in which she stood.

She looked around in awe, feeling small and fearful amid the ominous majesty of the great cavern. Against the base of a pillar, the Firekeepers had begun piling kindling. The wood looked untidy and out of place against the fire-jeweled pillar. There were a few Firekeepers in the rear of the chamber; Ratha had not noticed them at first, since they blended into the moving shadows cast by the Red Tongue.

The cave itself was not the only awesome thing. Ratha felt her gaze drawn almost unwillingly to the fire. Its sound filled the chamber and its light danced on the pillars and the walls. Here, its presence was overwhelming and shadowed everything else. Here, its power was contained and strengthened. Here was a place where the Red Tongue ruled.

Again Ratha remembered her dream, and she could almost see the coal-red eyes of the dream creature forming in the fire’s heart. She fought fear with anger, turning suddenly on Fessran.

“Why have you brought the fire in here?” she demanded. “I thought this was to serve only as a place for keeping wood.”

It was not Fessran but Shongshar who answered. “Our Firekeepers find it difficult to see when they come in from daylight. We have lighted the cave so they can see where to place their wood. Surely you see the sense in doing so, clan leader.”

Despite herself, Ratha had to agree that his reason was valid. She felt frustrated at being unable to find an explanation for the sense of uneasiness that clawed at her belly. She asked more questions, but the answers all made sense, even though they didn’t satisfy her. Why had they picked such a large cavern? The smaller ones were above the falls and more difficult to reach. Why hadn’t they built the fire in the less spacious gallery that led to the cave? It was too damp and the wood must be kept dry.

At last Ratha said, “When you are finished gathering wood, you will no longer need the fire-creature in the cave. I want it taken out.”

“We will need it here when the rainy season comes,” Fessran protested.

“I will decide what to do when the rainy season comes. When you are finished stacking wood, you will take the Red Tongue out of here.”

“As you wish, clan leader,” Shongshar said in a low growl. Fessran looked as if she wanted to say something else, but remained silent.

Ratha found her way out of the cave. The bright day hurt her eyes, but she was suddenly grateful for the sunlight and blue sky. She breathed air made crisp by spray from the falls, shook herself and went back down the trail.

The task of wood gathering took much more time than Ratha expected. Once or twice she nearly lost her temper, but Fessran pointed out that if she wanted the herds to be safely guarded, the Firekeepers had to have dry fodder for the guard-fires. Ratha remembered the bristlemane attack and reluctantly agreed to let the Firekeepers finish their task.

Although she disliked being in the cave, she went up to it every once in a while to see how the Firekeepers were doing. On her most recent trip, she noticed that Fessran had set someone outside to guard the cavern entrance.

This made her more uneasy than ever. As soon as enough wood was stockpiled for the rainy season, she was going to put a stop to the activity in the cave.

Chapter Fourteen

The task of gathering wood continued to go slowly and Ratha’s impatience grew. Each day that the fire burned in the cave seemed to add to the strength and influence of the Firekeepers. Every day that she was in the meadow, she would hear the herders talking about the cave-den of the Red Tongue. Some were bold enough to speak about visiting it, although none of them had, as far as she knew.