The Unfinished Song - Book 6: Blood (10 page)

“She said she was Aelfae.”

“No, the
false
Xerpen said that.”

“We saw her wings.”

“Another trick of Death’s Henchman.”

“Another spy?”

“I’m not a spy!” Dindi objected.

“There’s something familiar about her,” said Vessia.

Dindi turned to her, hoping Vessia would defend her, but Vessia shrugged, icy and indifferent.
Maybe she doesn’t want to admit she knows me in front of Xerpen
.

Xerpen squeezed Dindi’s chin, turning her head this way and that. He leaned close and licked the air right next to her cheek, not quite touching; it took all her strength of will not to shudder.

“Let’s kill her!” Kia slapped her knife against her palm.

Xerpen also drew his knife. He took Dindi’s hand in his other hand and drew the flint across her wrist. Blood, like stinging red ants, oozed out of the cut.

He bent over her wrist and licked the blood.

Dindi could not stop herself this time. She shuddered. It was like being tasted by a wild beast contemplating a meal.

Xerpen pulled back, disappointed and no longer interested in her. He let her go, shoving her hard enough that she fell back a step.

“She has Aelfae blood, but there’s no color in it. She has no magic at all. She’s not even Deathsworn.
Just another mud crawler. Kill her if you like. Or keep her as a slave.”

Kia grabbed Dindi by the hair and put her flint to Dindi’s throat.

“Enough, Kia,” said Hest. “That’s not going to happen. The human is harmless.”

“But what will we do with her?” asked Yastara. “What need have we of a slave?”

“No need at all,” said Vessia. “We’ll let the other humans have her, once we’re across the Bridge.”

I can’t let them push me aside.
Umbral was gone, possibly dead, which meant she was the only one who knew of Xerpen’s true identity and true plans. Umbral was right that Vessia seemed to be helping him, although perhaps that was a trick? Somehow, with Vessia’s help or without it, Dindi had to stop Xerpen and at the same time convince the Aelfae she was their ally not their enemy.

Kia pinched her arm. “You deceived us once and lived through it, but don’t expect that to happen twice. I’m just waiting for an excuse to kill you. I hate filthy humans. Clear?”

Very.

Xerpen glanced over the cliff’s edge. He must have been wondering the same thing Dindi was: what had happened to Umbral and Finnadro?

A rumble of voices from the other summit, the mountain across the gulf, forced Xerpen’s attention back to the assembly. The Tavaedies in their finery, the Raptor Riders and Eagle Lords, the Weavers and Drovers in the crowd, were milling about in a state of confusion. Shouting and arguing carried on the wind. Without their leader, the tribesfolk of Orange Canyon did not know what to do.

“I must return to lead the Paxota welcoming ritual,” Xerpen said to Vessia. “Don’t forget what you promised. You can tell the others what needs to be done.”

Vessia had no desire to keep her promise to Xerpen, but she had given her word.

“What does he want us to do?” Mrigana asked.

“You’re not going to like it.” Vessia grimaced. “I don’t like it, either.”

They walked together, Xerpen, Vessia, and the other Aelfae, with Kia dragging along the human girl. At the chasm that divided the tribehold into two unequal halves, Xerpen took the lead across the Bridge of One Thread. The Aelfae stepped out without hesitation, but the human balked.

“I can’t cross that!”

Vessia tried to look at the crossing from a human point of view. The twine of the Bridge had been spun from spider silk, mingled with Aelfae magic, and unless the sunlight happened to glance directly off the thread, it appeared as though there were no thread at all. Winds whipped across the deep basin that cleaved the two peaks. The bottom of the sink could not be seen below the layer of churning darkness, which had earned the moniker, “the Black Well.”

“Use your wings,” mocked Kia.

“You know I can’t.”

“Just follow me,” said Vessia. “You don’t need to fly to cross the chasm. You don’t need magic at all, just good balance.”

“Thank you, Vessia. Er, Auntie.”

The girl knew her name? Well. So? Vessia’s frown deepened. Maybe the Deathsworn had told her. The girl tugged at her memory, but no Vision unfolded. What
was
it about her?

Maybe it was the glances the girl kept casting her way, questioning quirks of the brow, as if she and Vessia shared some secret.

“What?” Vessia demanded.

The human girl darted a look at the others. She lowered her eyes.

Vessia gestured for the girl to follow Kia across the Bridge, and Vessia followed right behind, in case she should need to rescue the human from a fall. Despite the fierce winds, greedy to snatch victims into the Black Well, the human girl had perfect balance and resisted all the battering and buffeting.

On the other summit, the human crowd still milled about, nervous about the attack on their War Chief. They parted silently for the passage of the parade of Aelfae. Vessia felt self-conscious beneath those gazes, which weighed heavy with dread rather than welcome. There was no reason the humans should welcome their ancient enemies, of course, especially not a tribe which had never been friendly even to the mixed-blood Imorvae. Vessia wondered again at Xerpen’s decision to trust these people.

“Explain to me again how their castes work,” she said to Xerpen.

The request annoyed him. “I told you. Tavaedies—they call them the Eagle Lords and Raptor Riders—are the highest caste. The Weavers are the middle caste, and the Drovers, who drag sheep around the hills all year, are the lowest caste. You can tell who is who by where they stand.”

“And the Imorvae—the shapeshifters—are the lowest of all. Slaves.”

“Yes.”

“You think these humans will honor Aelfae when they enslave Imorvae?”

“It’s a matter of blood. The Morvae consider their own blood pure: purely human. They also acknowledge the Aelfae have pure blood: purely fae. The Imorvae are the ones with mixed blood, who are neither one thing nor another.”

Vessia mulled that over, to reluctantly conclude it made sense. Many Aelfae had the same contempt for the muddled offspring of fae and humans.

Xerpen fashioned order out of the chaotic crowd. The humans formed a neat square of onlookers, three sections deep. The front row of men and women wore elaborate feathered headdresses and long, feathered robes. The second row wore finely woven wool blanket shawls around their shoulders and waists. The third row, more of a mass of folk squeezed together in a haphazard flock, wore fleece tunics over wool legwals.

“Our enemies tried to assassinate me,” Xerpen announced.

The crowd squawked and bleated in anger.

“But they failed!” he shouted.

They twittered and applauded.

“This is going to be the greatest Paxota our tribe has ever known…”

Xerpen waxed on for some time, about the star watchings of the Skylord Tavaedies, about the equinox and the eclipse overlapping for the first time in a thousand generations, and how this would make the sacrifices of this year’s ritual powerful beyond imagining.

“With the blood of the Triple Sacrifice, I will destroy the Black Well once and for all,” declared Xerpen, “resurrecting from its dark heart an army of winged warriors who will serve our tribe, fight by our side, and lead us to victory over our ancestral enemies in the Rainbow Labyrinth!”

The crowd hooted and yammered approval.

“Behold the Uncursed—the Aelfae reborn!”

Vessia knew her cue. She stepped into the center of the square. The other six Aelfae followed her lead. They stood in a loose circle, facing outward toward the humans and unfurled brilliant butterfly wings.

The crowd fell silent.

This is it
, she thought.
They are going to rush at us with their spears drawn and slay us
.

The crowd roared. She clenched her fist around the hilt of her dagger before it dawned on her that they were
cheering
.

While Xerpen gave his speech, fear constricted Dindi’s throat. He had been planning this for so long—for decades—for generations—his hate burrowed as deep as a quarry and his power swelled as massive as a mountain. She felt small and ridiculous. What could she do to stop this monster? Kavio was dead and Umbral was lost and the Aelfae didn’t trust her. She had no allies and no ideas.

“Dindi, is that you?”

She swiveled to face two odd masked figures. They were Tavaedies but Olani, dressed in the most outlandish outfits. One wore a wig of bright orange wool yarn. His face was painted with a ridiculous grin and huge blue eyes between his lids and brows. He wore oversized boots with the toes apparently facing behind him. The effect made it look as if his legs were on backwards, though when she looked closely she realized the boots were fake. The other Olani wore legwals covered with patches and a tattered feathered cape using dyed chicken feathers of every hue. His face was painted with an exaggerated frown. They both wore silly hats.

Dindi squealed.

“Svego! Gremo! What are
you
doing here?”

Svego removed his hat and bowed with elaborate ceremony. “It’s a short and exciting story, but who cares about that? What are
you
doing here?”

Gremo, just as she remembered, was a big hulking man with a serious expression. Svego was svelte and girlishly pretty. His long hair swished in a dozen beaded braids that reached his calves.

Before she could decide how to answer, Xerpen said something about
blood
and
sacrifices
and
our ancestral enemies
that prompted the Aelfae to all walk into the center of the square. Vessia was pale as snow and gripping her dagger, and Dindi panicked.

“Oh mercy, they are going to kill the Aelfae!” she blurted.
I can’t be separated from them.

She darted out into the middle of the square.

The crowd cheered.

Ram horns blared.

Thrum-thrumpa-thrum
, thumped the drums.

She scampered up to the Aelfae and stood with them, in solidarity, prepared to fight to defend them if she needed to, though she wasn’t much of a warrior. If Xerpen tried to sacrifice them in some vile ceremony, she would fight that too. She panted, looking around wildly.

Um, what in the name of the Lost Windwheel is going on?
Something was wrong here.

There was no blood sacrifice, just the Aelfae spreading their wings, the crowd going wild, and Xerpen shouting they would be victorious. Six Aelfae spread colorful butterfly wings and lifted their arms like totems of victory. Then there was Dindi, quite wingless, standing agog, looking for all Faearth as foolish as she felt.

The Aelfae noticed Dindi standing there. Kia rolled her eyes.

Xerpen told the crowd that the Aelfae would dance for them soon. That was that.  The Aelfae withdrew. Dindi tried to follow them, but Vessia shook her head.

“Stay with your own kind.”

“I am Aelfae, like you,” Dindi said.

She didn’t believe it fully, and Vessia didn’t believe it at all.

Vessia simply walked away. Kia sniffed and bumped Dindi deliberately when she walked past her.

They left Dindi by herself in the crowd.

“Good to see you haven’t gotten any more sensible since we last met you, Dindi,” said Svego tartly, when he found her again.

“You’ve drawn attention to yourself,” said Gremo. “Here comes Harcho the Bone Breaker. Not a good man to annoy.”

Gremo was right. An Eagle Lord, in the most preposterous feather hat Dindi had ever seen, came over to demand who Dindi was, and who owned her, and what business she had, and how dare she dishonor the ceremony and….

“Uncle, she meant no dishonor, she’s just a new clown,” said Gremo.

“A clown?”

“Didn’t you see her make an idiot of herself?” asked Svego.

Harcho the Bone Breaker glared at Dindi. She must have looked sufficiently idiotic, because he sniffed and lost interest.

“Very well—keep her in line.” He finally left.

Dindi huffed in relief.

“Sorry, sweetling, you’re one of the chuckle peckers now,” said Gremo.

“How am I lucky enough—or you unlucky enough—for me to find you both here?” Dindi grabbed Gremo and kissed him on the cheek. He turned pink.

“Fa, stop, you’ll make me jealous.” Svego wagged his brows.

Gremo did not crack a smile, but his eyes were warm. “These Orange Canyon folk don’t have much use for Olani; they’re too obsessed with breeding their flock. But they do respect clowns, so clowns we became. Otherwise, they would have fed us to the Black Well long ago.”