The Unfinished Song - Book 6: Blood (28 page)

Something in what he said tugged at her, like a fish biting at bait, but she couldn’t net the slippery thought.

“Can you really reverse the Curse, Xerpen? For
all
of us?”

“I can.”

“Then we should not fight the humans. We should make peace with them. If our people return from the dead, what good will it do if the entire weave of history repeats the same pattern? We have to do it right this time. We have to learn to live together.”

“I agree we have to do things differently this time. But that means we have to
win
. You know in your heart they will never let us live in peace. Never.”

“We’ve learned from our mistakes during the War. Maybe they’ve learned from their mistakes, too. Let me speak to the leader of the human army, this leader of theirs… what do they call him? The Maze Zavaedi.”

Unease flickered across Xerpen’s face. Or maybe Vessia imagined that. He smoothed a smile over his face too quickly for her to be sure.

“Unfortunately, we need all the Raptor Riders present for the Sacrifice of the Ewes ceremony,” he said. “And I cannot let you fly down the mountain yourself, revealing your powers. My human allies would be frightened.”

“I will serve as her mount,” Mrigana said, turning suddenly. She
had
been listening all along. “No one will know I am the shapeshifter. And I will protect Vessia in case of any attack.”

“We’ll be back by the end of the ceremony,” Vessia said. “With a peace agreement … or with a warning to prepare for war.”

Xerpen did not like it. Of course he didn’t…. Who liked the idea of war?

“That’s a good idea,” he said reluctantly. “Let’s arrange it.”

Honestly, for once in his life, Tamio would have preferred serenity over excitement, but he had another visitor shortly after Gwenika stomped off.

Amdra entered the lodge. She ignored Hadi, who shrank back into a corner, but fixated on Tamio the moment she entered the room.

“What ghastly taste in relatives you have, young man,” she said witheringly. “You really could choose no better father than that?”

“I didn’t have a lot of choices. Are you offering me your father in exchange?”

“Vumo
is
my father.”

“What?”
  Tamio had never pegged Amdra for the jesting type. Her expression was distinctly sour.

“I assumed you knew.”

“How could he be your father? Isn’t your father the brother of the Maze Zavaedi? A great warrior? Vumo is just some drunk I met getting pissed in a no name clanhold.”

“That’s definitely him.”

Suddenly Vumo’s weird accusations about Tamio wanting to position himself as a potential War Chief of the entire Rainbow Labyrinth tribe made a lot more sense. Lineage was traced through mothers’ blood—only matrilineal relatives were considered formal kin. Paternity was slithery—“Rain falls on many patches of maize,” as the old adage noted wryly—so  “rain-side” kinship was less highly valued, but that didn’t mean it played no role at all in alliances, trade, and war. 

“Well, that’s swell,” he said,  “Vumo is a bastard, but on the bright side, now you’re my sister, so it’s all worth it.”

“It’s not a new sister you need to worry about but new brothers. When Zumo finds out your claim…. The last male claimant to be a rain-side sprinkle of my father met an ugly fate. It’s really not a position you should aspire to.”

“Muck it all. I’d forgotten about Zumo.”

“Not wise. He’s cleverer than he lets on. And he doesn’t care for competition. Whatever game you are playing, Tamio, consider that you are outmatched.”

“Fa. I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

“You need to come with me to the ceremony.”

“I can’t handle that.”

Amdra crossed her arms. “It was not a request.”

“Gw…the Healer told me not to walk around.” Tamio gestured to his general proneness. “Have you noticed? I’m injured. Vumo can give you the details.”

“He already has. It doesn’t matter. Because of your claim, you now must accompany us to the ceremony. Your slave can help you walk. There will be a place for you to sit. You won’t have to stand. But you must come.”

“Fine.” Tamio waved at Hadi. “Come help me, slave.”

“I don’t like this, Tamio,” Hadi said in a low voice as he helped him to his feet.

“I was just kidding about the slave thing.”

“I think it’s less dangerous to be mistaken for a slave than to be mistaken for the nephew of a War Chief.”

Walking, even with Hadi’s help, was a struggle, especially since half of Cliffedge seemed to consist of stairs. Amdra did not offer to help Tamio in the least. She slowed her pace to his with visible signs of annoyance.

A man appeared to help Hadi, lifting up Tamio on the other side. Tamio’s eyes were watering from the pain, and he had to blink to be certain that it was indeed Vumo.

“Father, so good of you to help drag my half-dead body up and down steps. We should do these noble father-son activities together more often.”

“Don’t call me ‘father’,” said Vumo.

“Even
I
don’t call him ‘father’,” said Amdra.

“What do you call him?”

“Drunken old goat.”

“Call me ‘father,’” said Vumo.

Tamio knew when they had arrived at the right place because it was crammed with people. A pallet of soft fleece had been prepared for him, and he was allowed to sit propped up, behind Vumo and Amdra (who stood). Hadi knelt by his side, checking his stitches and muttering unhappily about bleeding.

Horns blew, and the ceremony began. Tamio feared the ritual would be something terrifying or horrid, but instead it involved a lot of beautiful young girls parading before the War Chief and the other Tavaedies and Zavaedies. Most of the girls left blankets or rugs in a stack before the altar. Occasionally, one of the Tavaedies stepped forward, inspected a girl like a sheep, tied a rope around her neck and led her back to kneel at his feet. It seemed they could choose any girl they liked, just like that. Of course, they picked the prettiest ones.

As Vumo’s guest, Tamio had a fantastic view.

After a number of girls had flounced by, Vumo knelt by him. “How are you doing, nephew?”

“He’s bleeding again,” Hadi complained.

“I’m fine,” said Tamio. “This is fun.”

Vumo made a face.

“If fun were rain, this would be a drought. But we have to do it, and now, so do you. However, one good may come of it, which is that you might have an opportunity to save the girl you asked about—”

“Kemla!” Suddenly, Tamio didn’t care about the pain in his chest. “Where is she?”

“You must do exactly as I say. And don’t get any ideas. I still don’t believe you’re my son.”

Vumo looked at Hadi. “He’ll have to stand up for this.”

Hadi frowned, but he helped Vumo lift Tamio to his feet.

“If you don’t believe me, why would you do all this?” Tamio asked.

“It doesn’t matter what I believe. It matters what the War Chief believes. If he thinks I’m hiding a son, he’ll come after you. If he thinks I’m trying to pass off a stranger as my son… well, he’ll still come after you, actually.”

“Like I said,” said Tamio. “Baskets and baskets of fun. Muck and mercy! There she is.”

Kemla stepped forward. Her lips pouted crimson. Her eyes flashed dramatically, highlighted by shadow and shimmer. Her long black hair cascaded down her back like a dare. She wore nothing but two pieces of scarlet tied together over her shoulders, banded a number of times at the waist, with the sides completely open. It was not a dress, just two tapestries barely held in place over her sleek, nude body. Every high caste male watching her drooled at the sight, and several started to step forward to claim her. Vumo beat them all.

“I claim this slave for my own,” he said loudly, as the ritual required. He slipped the rope noose around her neck. For a moment, Tamio was afraid that Kemla would try to fight him, but although her fury showed, she followed docilely enough.

Until Vumo brought her before Tamio. She hadn’t looked furious before, he decided… not compared to how furious she looked
now
.

“Kneel,” ordered Vumo.

“To
him
? I certainly will
not
!”

Vumo pressed his spear into the back of her neck. “Kneel!”

Kemla slid to her knees before Tamio, glaring up at him the whole time.

“I will kill you, Tamio!” she hissed.

“Good to see you again, too, Kemla.” Tamio smirked at her.

Meanwhile, the next girl came to the altar to offer herself.

He grabbed Hadi and pointed. “Is that
Dindi
?”

Dindi felt all eyes on her as she stepped to the altar. She had a piece of cloth folded in her arms. In theory, she could offer this as tribute instead of her own body. A Zavaedi had stepped forward to claim Kemla. Kemla had calculated that it was better to be taken as a concubine than killed as a sacrifice, so Dindi was…glad for her? Maybe.

Of course, Kemla was beautiful. It wasn’t hard for
her
to pull it off.

Each girl had to stand before the altar for the length of time it took the musicians off to the side to finish their patter on the drums. This gave the high caste men time to peruse each girl and decide to claim or pass. The drumming had seemed quick enough when it was the turn of other girls, but now that Dindi stood under the hungry eyes, trembling and waiting for their judgment, the drums seemed to go on forever.

Finally, the drumming faded to silence. None of the men had stepped forward, and she let a little sigh of relief escape. She could escape to let the next girl come forward….

She tried to move her feet, but could not.

A pressure at the back of her neck forced her head to turn. She met the eyes of the man standing in the center of all the Eagle Lords and Raptor Riders.

The War Chief.

Xerpen wore a Zavaedi mask, shaped like a black spider with an orange star on its abdomen, but she recognized his ice-cold eyes. They were flat as a reptile’s. She fell into that gaze and could not tear away.

The power manipulating her body like a puppet grew stronger the longer she locked eyes with Xerpen. She climbed over the altar, fell to the ground and crawled on her hands and knees where she rubbed her face in the hem of his feathered robe. She never looked away.

A voice she recognized as her own, yet could not control, ripped from her throat.

“Please, please, please, Great One, make me your own, take me as yours.”

The words horrified her, yet she couldn’t stop croaking and begging.

He slipped a rope around her neck and tugged her into the air, toes dangling, choking her, strangling her.

“How can I refuse, when you beg so prettily?” he asked sardonically.

He dropped her to the ground. She clawed at the noose, loosening it so she could gasp in a breath, but she did not dare remove it. Or maybe she just didn’t want to. She rubbed her face in the hem of his feathered robe. It made her sneeze, but she couldn’t stop herself.

This is bad
, she thought, but it was one small voice lost in a greater chorus of voices rejoicing because she was near him.

He sat down on a pile of pillows and let Dindi crawl into the nook of his arm. He opened his robe and placed her palm on his bare chest. Muscles slithered and coiled like serpents under his smooth skin.

“After the ceremony, I’ll take you back to my lodge,” Xerpen said in a soft, amused voice. “You can try to kill me if you like. Isn’t that what you came here for?”

She was mesmerized by his voice, the light in his eyes that expanded forever, the silken feel of his chest under her fingers. She knew she should not answer, but she could not deny him anything.

“Yes...”

“You came with the Deathsworn. But you aren’t Deathsworn, are you?”

“No…”

“Were you his plaything? Don’t worry, it doesn’t matter to me if you’ve been used before or not. I can unweave the memory of any previous man from you before I take you. Were you his toy?”

“No…”

“What are you, then? Not Aelfae either, but there is something…. Do you have magic? What Chromas?”

“I have…”

“I DEMAND THE RAM’S RIGHT!” a boy’s voice cried, high-pitched with fear, but determined.

A dozen warriors sprang with ready spears between Hadi and Xerpen.

Hadi pointed at Dindi. “That maiden is my kin, and I demand the right to fight for her freedom!”

Dindi could hear Tamio crying out for Hadi not to be a damned fool and Vumo apologizing, even Kemla cursing.  It all sounded distant and unimportant. She mainly wished Hadi would go away so she could be alone with Xerpen.

Xerpen waved his hand. “Amdra!”

Amdra, shadowed by her slave Hawk, approached the War Chief.