The Crow God's Girl (26 page)

After combing her hair into submission, Tamra began braiding, her fingers moving nimbly, weaving in small freshwater pearls and netting. The pearls would gleam in the candlelight, giving a gloss to her plain hair. The pearls would suggest a crown, but it could only be a suggestion. Just enough to keep the Council guessing.

Tamra had gifted her with the pearls. Crow women wore such simple adornments. Their hair, knotted and twisted, might have a stray pearl or two gleaming away– catching the eye of the crow god, Tamra called it. Some women had simple earrings or a nose stud. The lumpy pearls came from streams deep within Gordath Wood, and were traded by the secretive forestholders who lived there.

A muffled voice called from outside the wooden door.

“Is she done yet?”

“No!” Tamra shouted back, pearl netting caught between her lips so her voice sounded cramped. “And don’t keep asking, for the crow god’s sake.” Her fingers never ceased their braiding and weaving.

“Almost,” Kate called out, trying to convey optimism.

“Shush,” Tamra snapped. “Now they’ll keep at it and they’ll get on my nerves.”

“If they bother you again, I’ll thump them,” Ossen said. Tamra gave a snort of laughter, and yanked on Kate’s hair. Kate winced. She was starting to get a crick in her neck.

Without turning her head she glanced sidelong at the suit of clothes laid out on the bed. The Salt tailor had been suitably impressed by the horseheads she had paid him with and had done fine, quick work. Balafray had muttered when he found out how much the man had charged, but Kate and Grigar assured him, it was well worth it. Though now we’re pretty well broke, Kate thought. So this had better work.

Through the shuttered window they could hear drums and fanfare, and Kate’s nerves kicked into high gear. The call to Council. Almost time.

“Stay still,” Tamra warned, and yanked at the plait to emphasize her point. Kate winced, tears springing to her eyes.

The door thumped again.

“Kett,” Grigar called. “You have to hurry. The lords are gathering.”

“Soon,” Kate said. “Very soon now.” Soldier’s god, what am I doing?

“There,” Tamra said with a final pull. “Now that is fine. All right, into your suit.”

First the stays over her shift. Tamra tied up the laces in the back, Kate trying
to
breathe normally. Then, careful to keep from messing up the coiled braid, she helped Kate into the outfit. It was made of velvet and linen with silver frogs across the front, and it weighed heavily on her shoulders. Tamra adjusted it across her bosom and her shoulders, and smoothed everything into place. Kate put on trousers and the fine boots and Tamra swung the half-cloak over her shoulder and fastened it with a clasp made of bone, whittled by one of the crows and rubbed clean and white.

Tamra stepped back and raised an eyebrow. Ossen whistled soundlessly. Kate smiled but she felt faintly nauseous.

“Do I want a mirror?” she said. “Or is it better if I don’t see?”

“I’ve never done better,” Tamra said.

Ossen nodded. “Here, I’ll let the boys in.”

Kate turned to the door as the crow girl threw it open dramatically. The brothers crowded in. She could see at once by the shock in their faces that they got it.

She was not dressed as a lady of Aeritan, with her hair covered demurely with a kerchief, and her skirts falling to her ankles, a loose tunic over that. Nor was she dressed as a wild crow, in rags and cast-offs. Instead, she wore a brocaded tunic that fitted her figure, the stays drawing in her waist and the material curving over her breasts. It was black with silver fittings, gored at the sides with dark blood-red velvet. She wore bloused trousers of the same material that ended up over boots of fine black leather.

The half-cloak draped over one shoulder so the pearl-gray lining could be seen lying against the black and red. And in her hair glowed the freshwater pearls, small points of light over her pale, sand-colored hair, intricately braided in a modest crown. The colors were the colors of the House of Crows, black for their namesake birds, red for the blood of war, gray for the snow and fog that imprisoned Temia for most months out of the year.

The dawning understanding in their eyes was better than any mirror.

Balafray spoke first. “My Lady,” he said in his rough voice. “My Crow Lady.”

Kate nodded in acknowledgement. She was not Kate Mossland anymore. She was Temia.

Her voice was rough, but it was steady. “I’m ready.”

All the lords were present at the Council
, the table on the high dais fully occupied. The ceiling soared overhead, vaulted and buttressed stone. Pale light streamed through the open windows, making patterns on the stone floor. Colar waited with the rest of the Aeritan nobility who were not on the Council, sitting in pews in the long assembly chamber. He would be called up when it was time to name him Lord of Favor.

Behind him were Lady Niyani and Lady Janye, sent from Terrick under escort by Terrick men-at-arms. When the Council handed him Favor, Janye would come with him to her new country. He wondered if Raymon’s men had managed to clean the blood from the walls of her new home.

Lord Camrin was droning on about Trieve and Lady Trieve’s inability to rule her own household, witness her upstart Captain who killed her own brother.

“So how, Lady Jessamy, can we consider turning Favor over to you, since you lost it in the first place?”

The subtle insult of using her name instead of her House was not lost on Lady Trieve. She toyed with her little knife and waited for Camrin to finish his rationalization. She would like to use it on him, Colar thought.

She would like to use it on me.

As if she could read his thoughts, as if she could feel his gaze, she turned to look at him. The sharpness of her expression chilled him. Colar made himself nod and smile. It disconcerted her; she turned away.

“How I keep my House is my concern, Lord Veik,” she said, breaking into Camrin’s drone with an insult back at him. “The Council cannot give one House’s lands to another, no matter how ill-equipped a Lord is to run his country. For example, you did not take Lord Tharp’s land from him, though I believe he started a war last year that nearly got all of us killed.”

There was a rumble from the audience and some of the lords barked a protest. Tharp looked as sour as he always did but he said nothing. His wife, Lady Sarita, watched him with narrowed eyes from the audience. Her mother, Lady Wessen, sat at Council with the others, the older woman regal and elegant, her features sharp and her gnarled hands weighted with rings. A look went between mother and daughter, and Colar caught it and wondered what it meant.

“Still, my lady,” Camrin said, an insincere smile once more pasted onto his face. “Two Houses? Isn’t that greedy?”

“Ask Lord Terrick and his half-wit heir,” she snapped back, flinging out a hand to point at Colar. “Their greed will lead us into another war, and you will be hard put to stop this one so easily.”

All eyes turned to Colar, even those of his wife and her mother. He felt the sting of anger. His father half rose from his seat at the table but made himself sit down. Colar schooled his face into hardness. No need to bluster or protest–Favor was his.

A commotion at the door caught everyone’s attention and everyone looked back, voices rising up in hushed bemusement. The two soldiers at the doorway let in a third soldier, gasping with his news.

“My lords, my lords!” he called out. “There are crows massed on the outskirts of the city!”

The rumble of confusion rose to the high rafters. Colar jumped up with the rest.

“Quiet!” That was Salt. His voice cut through the uproar, and the hubbub died down. “Report.”

“There must be a thousand sir, or more, waiting on the south wall.”

A thousand...even with all of the lords’ men at Council, they had only about that number, or little more. Most had left their armies back home, to guard against back-door treachery.

“He lies!” someone shouted. “Or he’s confused a few hundred for more out of cowardice.”

Salt looked directly at the soldier. The soldier shook his head.

“No lie, my lord,” he said with quiet assurance. “On my honor.”

Another sound at the door caught their attention. Another soldier came through, this one shocked and confused, looking back as if he was pursued.

“My lord,” the man said, and his voice cracked.

“What now?” Salt snapped.

“It’s–They say they’re House Temia, sir. They’re here.”

House what? Dead silence filled the hall. It was so quiet Colar could hear approaching footsteps. A hand of men only–this was no army. Closer they came until they swept through the doors, a cluster of fighting men. They were crows, he could tell at a glance, four men, all with a look about them that said kinship. They had simple armor but good weapons, and they walked quickly but with assurance. Someone walked in their midst but he couldn’t get a glimpse as he was smaller than the escort. Then the escort fell away, dropping back so all could see.

A collective gasp rose in the hall. Colar thought he heard a cry and wondered if he had made the sound of disbelief.

Kate was dressed in black brocade and velvet, finer clothes than he had seen her in, even at home. Her hair was braided in a simple crown and pearls gleamed like drops of light against the darker blonde. Her face was pale, paler than he had ever seen it, her eyes clear and luminous. She walked briskly forward, catching no one’s eye, her gaze fixed on the dais. Colar watched as she looked at all of the lords each in turn, her gaze lighting on his father and moving on as if he were of no more account than any of them. Lord Terrick looked as if he were turned to stone, his craggy face aghast.

“House Temia arrives for Council, my lords,” she said, her voice clear, hardly any accent lurking in it. “I am Lord of Temia and I will take my place at the table, for there are weighty matters to discuss.”

Kate saw Colar out of the corner of her
eye during her long walk down the aisle of the great hall. She clenched her hands into fists and kept herself from looking his way, striding deliberately and purposefully, trying not to hurry. The brothers fell away as they approached the dais, and she faced the Council. The men and women on the dais stared at her, their eyes and mouths wide with shock. Then–

“Madness!” exploded the bulky Lord Kenery. “Madness! Who is this upstart chit! Guards–”

Before he could speak further, Grigar, Balafray and the younger brothers circled her again, swords bristling outward.

Every man in the room responded with their own steel, and the scraping sound of sword and scabbard echoed in the hall.

“Hold!” Kate cried out, flinging out her hands. “I have a thousand crows outside the walls of this city, Lord Salt. I bid you accept my presence here for if you do not, we will make you.”

“There is no House Temia!” Lord Camrin bristled. He looked sickly pale. “There is certainly no House of Crows, and you are certainly no lord.”

“You are mistaken, my Lord Camrin,” she said, identifying him easily. Oh how she had studied with Grigar–the lords, their colors, their Houses. School was always what she was good at; life and death depended on these lessons. “House Temia was the first among Houses of the Aeritan Council. It has not taken up its seat these many years but there is nothing to say it may not.”

“There is nothing to say it can,” said Lord Salt. He looked keen, as if this was a point of order, no more. “House Temia, if it exists, has forfeited its right to Council.”

Lady Trieve jumped to her feet, her eyes alight with laughter. “I recognize House Temia!” Her bold voice silenced the rest of the lords.

“You can’t do that!” blustered Lord Camrin. He had the look of a man who thought the world was moving much too fast.

Lady Wessen stood as well.

“The girl has backbone. I recognize her too,” the old lady said in her crusty voice. “About time the crows were civilized, and if they do it by reclaiming that stone barn in the mountains, then so be it.”

Kate bowed slightly to her two allies.

“This is madness!” bellowed Kenery. “Madness! She is not even Aeritan. She has no name. She has no House. She is nothing! Nothing!”

His voice rose in a scream. Colar saw Janye stir next to her mother and cover her face at her father’s outburst.

Over Kenery’s bluster, Kate’s voice rose. “If you are saying that I am crow, Lord Kenery, you simply make my case. I have no House. Lord Terrick saw to that. I am crow. And the crows are Temia. Temia returns, and I am her lord.”

“Temia was broken a hundred years ago, the last High King deposed and his lands left to molder,” Kenery said. “The crows have no House. They have no right.”

Balafray stepped forward. She knew the picture that he made, scarred and ill-favored, his mouth pulled awry by the old cut across his cheek down to his chin. He spoke his words stubbornly.

“House Temia acknowledges Kett Moss-Land as Lord. We bring her to Salt to sit at Council.”

“I know this girl,” said Lord Saraval suddenly. Everyone turned to look at him. The old man, stout and hearty still, stood. He looked around at the table. “You were the surgeon’s assistant. Smart girl, quick-thinking.”