The Crow God's Girl (36 page)

“I am thankful for your support,” she fumbled.

“Good. Will you accept my offer of clothes?”

“God, yes,” Kate blurted, and Lady Trieve laughed. She noticed, however, how my lady’s eyes remained alert, calculating. Every gift came with a price, she thought. That was how Aeritan worked. A soldier tossed Kate a bundle of cloth and she caught it easily.

Alone in her tent, Kate examined the small bundle of material. The clothes were fine and clean. They were of undyed cloth, bleached by the sun but with brown flecks of plain thread. Kate looked at them and frowned. No colors. All the Houses had their colors. There had to be some significance in this plain cream tunic and cream breeches. There was even a pale kerchief, embroidered cream on cream with exquisite stitches.

Every instinct told her this was a trap, but she didn’t see how and in any case, Lady Trieve’s support and protection were vital. Kate took a deep breath and shed her soiled clothing. She put on her stays, cinching herself, and pulled on the shirt and the trousers. She brushed her hair, braided it into a simple french braid, and tied it with a bit of ribbon in a bow. There. This was a
s
good as it was going to get. She pulled back the tent flap.

All eyes were on her when she emerged from her tent. A man-at-arms held the chestnut mare. Lady Trieve was remounted. She gave Kate a once over, and said,

“The kerchief too, Lady Temia.”

“I do not wear kerchiefs, Lady Trieve.” She handed it over to the man at arms. He looked alarmed, as if it were made of hot coals.

Lady Trieve’s expression hardened. Kate didn’t back down.

“Disobedient girl,” Trieve snapped. Her urbane smugness had vanished. “You are not in command here.”

Grigar touched her arm. He made the tiniest gesture toward the kerchief. Mulish, she hesitated, and then held out her hand. The soldier handed it over.

She never could get it right. Grigar had to help her tie it over her braid, the feel of his knuckles against the nape of her neck distracting. The weight of the kerchief was oppressive. A single hair was caught in the knot, and it stung every time she turned her head. Now she knew exactly how she looked in her plain clothing with no color.

She looked like a smallholder.

She had given her pledge to the captain on a sentimental impulse and now she belonged to Trieve. She turned to her crows and she could see the understanding in their eyes. Stepping away from the Trieve party, she gathered them around, and spoke in a low voice.

“Get out now. Go to Temia. Stay off the roads. If I don’t come back, you’ve seen how to take care of Ossen. The rest of the pearls will cover her care–”

“Kett.” Grigar said. “You’ll come back. Believe.”

The simple words were a comfort. Balafray, Grigar, and Arlef each put a hand on her shoulder, and she reached out and gave them
a
hug, trying to get her arms around them all together. She didn’t want to let them go, but behind her Lady Trieve raised her voice.

“Lady Temia.”

Kate turned and took the reins of the chestnut mare. She lifted herself into the saddle, feeling a perverse pride that in this she outshone the pretty Lady Trieve. She turned the mare to follow the others, and forced herself from looking back.

“Congratulations. You’ve tamed the crow
,” Salt said, when Kate was escorted into Council by Lady Trieve and her armed guards. She might as well have been bound and gagged–her clothing announced her as
a
prisoner, or penitent. The nobles on the dais and their families in the audience all were riveted by her appearance.

Kate kept her eyes on the dais, but she couldn’t help but see Colar. He sat with his wife in the front row. He looked tired.

“The people of Salt owe you their thanks,” Salt went on. He looked terrible, with dark pouches under his eyes, and his face was haggard. Still, he retained a measure of his urbane sarcasm. “We’ll have her back please, so she can be plucked and hanged.”

“I’m afraid not, Lord Salt,” Trieve said. “The girl pledged herself to Trieve. She’s under my protection.”

Salt threw up his hands. “I’m sure you wouldn’t tell us this winter’s tale if you didn’t have proof, so bring it out, Lady Trieve.”

“Colar of Terrick, if you please, and my husband, Captain Crae.”

Funny. Colar didn’t even hesitate, but stood right away. So he knew what I had done.

Salt raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, Lady Trieve? You call upon the two who broke her out of her prison? Plus, we all know the boy has feelings for her–I do apologize, Lady Janye.”

Colar’s wife smiled thinly from the audience.

Trieve swept on. “For my part, I have already reprimanded my husband. As for young Terrick, I’ll leave that to his wife. Or, since you are all in bed together, perhaps you will see fit to punish the boy.”

There was
a
rumble in the audience and among the heads of Houses. Salt just rolled his eyes.

“Beware of bitterness, Lady Trieve. You will lose your considerable looks if you dwell on the past.”

She didn’t bother to respond, only nodded to Colar and Crae.

Their testimony was brief. Trieve gestured and Kate was pushed forward by her escort. She faced Trieve.

“Repeat your pledge in front of Council and it will be complete,” Lady Trieve said. “You are pledged to my House, and in turn, under my protection.”

The alternative would be her execution. But to pledge, she would lose everything but her life. Better to have stayed in Terrick, better to have married Mitain or some farmer. Lady Trieve would remind her every day that she had saved her life and demand her gratitude. Her crows would be hounded from House to House, slinking along Aeritan’s byways, its lost people once more. What Aeritan gives, we must take, for we are her true heirs.

A silence descended upon the chamber as they all awaited her pledge. She could hear the breathing and the rustling, the small sounds of a crowd trying to be quiet. Kate sniffed, and looked up at the ceiling, as if deep in thought. Now was the time to play the strategy she had planned on the ride in to town.

“Well,” she said. “That’s very kind of you, Lady Trieve. But before I make that pledge, I need to address the Council.”

Salt snorted and the rest of the Council buzzed like a hive.

“Discipline your pledge, Lady Trieve. She still thinks she’s one of us.”

“I wouldn’t dream of thinking I was like you, Lord Salt,” Kate snapped. “Believe me, you are not a good example. We have a saying, perhaps you’ve heard of it? ‘Lie down with dogs, get up with fleas?’ ”

Salt reddened and said,
“Watch your tongue, you filthy-
”

“Lord Terrick,” she interrupted. Colar’s father looked straight at her, dour as always, but his eyes held strain, and their expression was terrible. She had hurt him badly, hurt his pride, and she knew he expected more humiliation at the hands of his foster daughter. She almost wished she didn’t have to face him, but it was her life at stake.

Still, she spoke more softly than she had planned.

“Lord Camrin was behind the kidnapping attempt on your son,” she said.

Silence–and then the chamber erupted.

Kate waited out the tumult, taking in everyone’s reactions. There was Salt, blustering with the others but a calculating look in his eyes nonetheless. Lord Terrick half stood, and his expression was questioning.

“What nonsense is this!” Salt said, his deep voice rising above the clamor. “Madam, curb your insolent crow or I will!”

“I will hear the girl,” Lord Terrick said. He didn’t shout. He didn’t have to. He spoke so rarely it was as if a mountain broke its silence.

The chaos quieted. Kate faced him directly as if they were the only two in the room.

“My friend Ossen was captured and tortured by Camrin’s men before he was killed. She recognized his men as the thugs who took Yare. Remember, she watched them that night, waiting for her chance to rescue your son.”

Salt made a derisive sound. “Oh, we are to believe some crow’s excuse now? No doubt she picked some pockets and was soundly whipped as necessary.”

Kate had everyone’s full attention, but she kept her focus on Lord Terrick.

“They recognized her too, sir. That’s why they meant to kill her, but her brothers rescued her before they could do more than beat her senseless.”

“And there we have our murderers!” Salt sounded gleeful.

“Not quite, Lord Salt. She was alive while Lord Camrin was murdered before her eyes. She lives now in a safe place, ready to reveal who she saw.”

She waited, hardly breathing, her heart beating so hard there were dots in front of her eyes. Now it was up to Salt to take the bait.

“Nonsense,” he managed. “Nonsense,” he said again, his voice stronger. “You are playing a dangerous game, girl, dangerous indeed. Lady Trieve, for the last time, curb your crow.”

Kate turned back to Lord Terrick. She held up her closed hand, as if she concealed something in it.

“The killer must have thought Ossen was too far gone to worry about, so he left without making sure she was dead. But he forgot one important thing, in his haste to escape.”

“Give me that!” Salt snapped. “Now.”

I am so close to death. So close. Soldier’s god, give me strength. She summoned all her innocence.

“Give you what?”

“What’s in your hand! Guards! Take it from her!”

There was a moment of confusion as different guards started to obey, but Lady Trieve shouted, “Hold!” She bustled forward. “No one touches her!”

“It doesn’t belong to you! Give it here now!”

“Tell me what it is, and I’ll gladly hand it over,” Kate said.

“You little bitch, you are standing at death’s abyss. Give me the casing!” Silence dropped on the chamber. The lords turned to look at Salt.

There was a confused silence.

“Salt,” said old Lord Shay, his voice as vague as his expression, “How did you know what she had in her hand, if you didn’t know what was left behind?”

Salt swelled with rage. He grabbed the dagger from his belt and threw himself at Kate. People screamed, and lords scattered. Kate fell back, putting her hands up to protect herself from his knife. He jabbed hard and she fended off the blade, blood coming from her hands, panic overwhelming her as Salt feinted, trying to slip past her desperate hands. She grabbed at the blade to stop him and it bit her deeply across the palms but it was so slick with blood that it slipped between her fingers. The steel kissed her ribs. Pain seared as red bloomed on her colorless clothes and Kate cried out. Salt pressed in and then abruptly stopped dead.

She focused on Salt’s torso. The fine waistcoat with its carved buttons sprouted an unusual appendage, a red-streaked metal point. Then blood spread out along the tip, staining the fine dark cloth. He groaned and buckled. The knife was pulled from her ribcage, the pain so intense Kate began to lose consciousness.

The last thing she saw was Salt crumpling to the stone floor, and behind him Colar, pulling free his bloody sword. They stared at each other until her vision darkened, and she fainted to the floor, her empty bloodied hand rolling open for all to see.

“Ah dearie, you’re awake. Do you need to go?”

The old lady who sat in a rocker watching her was friendly and kind, but she didn’t know about keeping anything clean. Kate’s hands were swathed in bloody, unchanged bandages. She had another bandage wrapped around her middle, under her plain linen shirt. It was no longer colorless, though brown bloodstains were no improvement.

“Yes, please,” Kate said. The woman helped her draw down her trousers and pull them up again when she was done using the chamber pot. Kate had lost any modesty long ago, and nothing really mattered anymore.

She wondered where Ossen and her brothers were. Safe, she hoped, and far away. Maybe they were near the river by now or had even crossed it. Even with Ossen injured and incapacitated, they could travel unseen and unharmed, stealing from smallholders, making their way north to Temia–or really, to wherever they wanted. Temia was her dream, not theirs.

She wished she could have gone with them. She should have. What made her think she could change anything by returning to Council and denouncing Lord Salt? Hubris. Simple ego. And here she was, at the end of the line. Lord Terrick had brought her here, claiming her from Lady Trieve after the disastrous confrontation with Lord Salt.

Light and air trickled in through the window over the bed, a tiny porthole under the slanted ceiling. The smells and sounds of town life wafted up to her, and she could see rooftops and part of Salt’s wall, but that was it. She was in the hands of Lord Terrick and the high god, the little old lady told her, but that was all she knew.

The sound of voices and heavy footsteps made her look up.

“Oh! Here is the lord himself, how good he is to see you,” the old woman said, and she bustled over to the door. It was locked from the outside and so she had to wait for the bar to be drawn back before she could open it and gesture the visitors in.