The Crow God's Girl (10 page)

“Kett,” Lady Beatra said.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Truly, we thank you. If it hadn’t been for you and the crow–” her voice faltered. Yare wasn’t the only one with trauma from his experience. How Lady Beatra must have felt hearing his tale, thinking how close she came to losing another child. How could I stand it? Kate thought. And yet she must stand it. This was her life now. She took a deep breath.

“I am Terrick, ma’am,” she said. “Yare’s like my little brother.”

“And you are a valued member of this family,” Lady Beatra said firmly. “I count it a blessing of the grass god’s daughter that you caught my son’s eye. That is why we can’t lose you. Goodness, what would Colar say?”

Kate’s expression grew pained. What indeed? But she could hardly say that to his mother. It was a loving speech, well said. Kate was valued. She was a member of the family. She should count her blessings herself. So why did it only make her feel worse?

“Thank you, Lady Beatra,” she said.

She was moping down the st
airs
when Samar hailed her.

“Young miss,” the housekeeper said, her dour voice as starched as her kerchief. She held out a small package. The severe housekeeper raised an arched brow at her and pursed her wrinkled lips with disdain. “It is a gift from the midwife, Callia,” she said, a light sneer in her voice. “You’ve made a friend of the old gossip.” She didn’t sound as if it were something to be proud of.

She’s not really a friend, Kate almost said, but thought better of it since that wasn’t fair to Callia. Samar and Callia had an old rivalry, if Callia was telling the truth. Then again, she didn’t want to sound as if she were defending the midwife. It would not do to piss off Samar, especially if she were one of the householders in her corner.

“Thank you for bringing it to me,” she said instead. The package was plainly wrapped in a clean cloth and tied with a blue ribbon. It weighed almost nothing.

Samar swept away, as if being Callia’s errand girl was more than she could stand. Something warned Kate that it would be best to open any present from Callia in secret, and she put the package in her skirt pocket. She could open it in her bedroom, but if Eri came in, there would go her secret.

The next most private place was the pasture. No one had said she couldn’t visit her horses. She hurried down the stairs, breezing along as if she had nothing to hide. Kate let herself out the big door, slipping through and pulling the big heavy door closed after her. It was cold and raw and hardly felt like summer any more. Kate wore thick skirts made of felted wool, leggings under that, and a cardigan over her tunic. She smelled of wet sheep, but she was warm, if damp. Her hair frizzed under her kerchief and dripped against the back of her neck.

The men at arms lounged in the courtyard as usual, mending gear or just hanging around. Unlike the smallholders or householders, Terrick’s small army were bachelors for the most part, living in quarters at the back of the house. They ate in the kitchens and trained in the courtyard, patrolled at night, and lounged around by day. Thani flirted with them outrageously. The children were acquainted with the men of course; Aevin and Colar trained with them, and Eri and Yare were doted upon by them. Kate was used to their hard stares or worse and tried to ignore them. One or two caught her eye and she gave them a stiff nod, trying not to walk away too fast.

“Girl.”

Crap. She stopped, debated whether to turn around and finally did, unwilling to be thought rude. It would only be another strike against her.

“What?” she said.

He looked back at his mates with stifled laughter.

“If you’re looking for a horse to ride, I’ve got a stallion for you right here.”

Face flaming, she turned on her heel and marched on, their raucous laughter chasing her. The harassment had gotten worse since Colar and his father had gone. Under Maksin’s example the men had gotten bolder about it. One more thing she couldn’t talk to Lady Beatra about–it would sound like she was complaining, and it would probably just set Maksin against her even more. Plus, she’d never get out of the house, once Lady Beatra found out about it.

Fine. She had learned her lesson. Her mistake was in thinking that she would be treated with respect for once. Being thought rude was better than being thought an idiot. They would call her Lady one day. At some point she would gain their respect, but she couldn’t grovel for it.

Safe in the pasture, she sat down on the wet stone wall and watched the horses graze in the rain. She let her anger subside: just watching the horses brought a little peace. As always, Allegra stood aloof while Hotshot ambled over to say hi, his ears twitching and his lower lip drooping with pleasure. She knew exactly where to scratch him along his mane to make him feel good. Hotshot browsed next to her as she untied the little package.

She held up the soft, pliable tube with one hand and clapped her other hand over her mouth. Kate sat in stunned silence, looking at the condom, laughter chasing shock.

“Oh no,” she managed. “No way. No. Way.”

Laughter soon fled, panic following. What was Callia thinking? If Torvan found this–if Lady Beatra found this–Kate rolled up the small package and stuffed it into her pocket. Throw it away, a small voice whispered. You don’t want this. She went so far as to look around for a place to bury the condom when she stopped. Why would she want to get rid of it? In her own cheerfully crazy way, Callia had given her what she wanted, a way to control her future and make her own choices. Compare that to housekeeping lessons. But would Colar be willing to use it? Of course he would warred with Not this Colar, this new, strange Colar who treated her as if she were not Kate but an Aeritan girl.

And what’s so wrong with that? the same voice whispered to her, combined with an overwhelming feeling of rightness. She could be that Aeritan girl, and she and Colar would be happy. She could give up being Kate, embrace her new life, and be Lady of Terrick in her turn. Throw away the condom, have plenty of kids, bury the ones who didn’t make it, sure, but she could be like Lady Beatra. And she liked Lady Beatra. She was smart, capable, loving. Kate could be that person–if she gave up being Kate.

The voice was persuasive, and it reminded her of another voice–the warning she had heard the day before. A shiver shook her violently.

“Get out of my head,” she said to the weeping sky. “Get OUT!”

The earth and sky reeled and she had to put out her hand to keep from falling from her perch on the stone wall. Hotshot threw up his head and shied away, trotting off from the disturbance. Then with a sudden pain, as if something had been yanked from her brain, silence reigned.

Oh God.
No, not God. Not here. These were Aeritan gods who were making their presence felt. The seductive little voice–

That was the grass god’s daughter, and Kate had just told her off. A sick feeling hit the pit of her stomach.

Stubbornly, she told herself, I don’t need her to help me through childbirth. I need science, hygiene, medicine.

None of which she had. She had an eccentric midwife and some luck, but that was it. The sick feeling intensified. Kate pushed it away.

“I can’t worry about it right now,” she told the gray, unfeeling sky. “I’ll just have to deal with that when the time comes.”

“Who are you talking to? The horse?”

Kate turned around and jumped off the wall at the same time. The crow girl stood there, watching her with a lively, interested gaze, like her namesake bird. Kate surreptitiously clutched at her pocket. The girl glanced over at the movement and then returned her gaze to Kate.

She was a girl, that much was clear now. She was much younger than Kate. Maybe fourteen. No more than an eighth-grader. She was tall and skinny, her hair a mass of dirty tangles around a pointed, skinny, malnourished face. Her dark eyes were remarkable–not big, but expressive, under thick lashes a model would kill for.

“Well?” the girl said, undeterred by Kate’s silence.

“Nothing. No one.”

“Oh.” The girl nodded as if she understood. “The gods, then. They make you mad, don’t they.” She made a curious gesture, as if she were clutching her hair. “Always at you to do this or that.”

The girl sounded crazy. Kate wasn’t crazy, not like that, except the girl was right. She was hearing voices.

Um,” she said. “So, they talk to you too?”

“Yeah. ’Specially the crow god. He jabbers away, talk talk talk. I don’t listen. Gives me the creeps. I tell him off sometimes.”

“So... you don’t have to listen to them?” A ray of hope crept into her voice. If she didn’t have to listen to the grass god’s daughter, maybe everything would be okay.

The girl snorted. “Don’t want to go malcra, do I?”

“Malcra?” What was malcra?

“Why do you dress like that?” The girl said at the same time.

“Dress like what?”

The girl’s forthright curiosity was getting a little irritating.

“Like you’re a householder. The lord’s son and daughter said that you’re betrothed to the heir, but you dress like a servant.”

“I do not,” Kate said, stung. Lady Beatra had promised Kate new clothes, hadn’t she, but somehow never got around to it, and Kate hadn’t wanted to be a bother. Only maybe she should have made her bother. Lady Beatra had told her she was valuable, but if that were true, maybe she would have given her nicer clothes. Kate thrust that uncomfortable thought away.

The girl snorted. “I couldn’t figure you out. I did tell the crow god to send help, but when he sent a servant on her master’s horse, and a girl to boot, I thought it was his way of getting his own back at me.”

“Excuse me, but you’re a girl too, and we didn’t do too badly.” Who was this kid? If all crows were like this–

No. They were worse, she knew that from bitter experience. Way way worse than a talkative brat.

“I’m not a girl. I’m a crow. Is it a game you’re playing? To dress up like a servant?”

“No! Clothes just don’t matter to me. I have to go.” She shook out her skirts and made to clamber back over the stone wall toward the house.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to the house. I’m busy.”

“Then why are you out here?”

“Just–because.” Would the kid never stop? The girl didn’t say anything, just looked at her with those preternatural eyes. She hunched in her ragged clothes, and Kate was made uncomfortably aware of how similar their clothing was.

“What are you doing out here anyway?” Kate said, going on the offensive. She put a haughty tone in her voice. If this crow thought she wasn’t the young heir’s intended, Kate would make it very clear how wrong she was.

The crow’s expression changed, and she cast down her eyes, as if chastened. “The stableman, he told me to bring in two horses for shoeing. One called Gray and one called Red Socks. Only–” she cast another look at the horses. She was afraid of them.

If she were being Lady Kate, she should leave the crow to do it by herself, except the girl would never manage alone. Grudgingly, she said, “I’ll help.”

The crow girl flashed a grin, and it lit up her face. Without meaning to, Kate grinned back, rueful and reluctant.

Between the two of them, they managed to halter the horses and bring them in, Kate giving pointers to the crow girl. She watched with wide eyes as Kate handled the two horses with confidence.

“I saw the way you rode in on that big horse last night,” she told Kate. “You were like a king. Except for the clothes.”

Again with the clothes. “I didn’t know there were kings in Aeritan,” Kate said lightly, but it was nice, for once, to be appreciated.

“Only for the crows.”

Kate turned to look at her, pushing Gray’s head out of the way. “Crows have kings?”

“You lords call him our king, but you say it in fun. He’s our old man. He calls down the malcra, and he takes it away.” At Kate’s skepticism the girl scowled. “You don’t believe me, and now you’ll make fun.”

“No, no, I won’t, I promise. I just thought you meant, well, a king like a lord. A–big lord.”

“The last King of Aeritan was a crow.” The girl spoke with quiet self-assurance.

This time Kate laughed. Her laugh faded at Ossen’s expression. “That’s not possible,” Kate faltered.

“Why not?” The girl’s expression was belligerent. “We don’t have lords, because we don’t have Houses. The whole land is our House. The crows are the true heirs of Aeritan.”

They reached the gate, a ramshackle wooden structure on pegs between the two stone walls. Kate handed Ossen the lead ropes and pushed the gate open. The crow led the horses through.

“So why are you like you are?” Kate said, closing the gate behind them. Up ahead she could see Drabian and Stelpin waiting for them. The mist had gotten thicker and it was raining full on. Water dripped down her kerchief into her eyes and down the back of her neck. Even wool was no match against rain. Smoke came up from the smithy and she could smell burning iron and charcoal along with the smell of wet wool.

“It won’t be for always,” Ossen said. “Soon, the crows will be the rightful owners of this land again.” She spoke with calm certainty that sent a shiver down Kate’s spine. Did the crows mean to overthrow the lords and the council?