The Unfinished Song - Book 6: Blood (42 page)

Umbral had no reason to protect Dindi now. He hated her. Yet he wanted to rip Snake’s tongue from his mouth for defiling her name.

Snake licked his lips, savoring the delicious revelation.

“Dindi betrayed you, Umbral,” he chortled. “She betrayed you worse than you know. She has been scheming against you with your worst enemy from the very beginning. Did you take her to your fur? Did you enjoy her in your arms? Did you think you were the only one?” He leaned forward and hissed in Umbral’s ear. “She is Xerpen’s lover. His lover and his henchwoman. On my way here, I heard them speaking about you. It’s how I knew where to find you. She laughed, Umbral,
laughed
as she told Xerpen how you fell for her wiles.”

“I can still kill her,” whispered Umbral, clutching Snake’s arm. “I can still kill
him
. Help me. Heal me.”

Snake Bites Twice stood up. “No, Umbral, I see now that you are beyond help or hope. Look at you. You are an old man. Your bones are broken and your skin is blistered. You fell for the lies of a seductress; you groveled at the feet of Finnadro, a lesser man; and you betrayed Lady Death. I will not help you, nor will
she
, unless you prove you can help yourself. If you are too weak, then you deserve to die!”

Snake Bites Twice shoved him hard, back into the Pit.

Blindmutes brought Xerpen a feathered robe to hide his Deathsworn leathers, then scurried out of his way as he stomped back to his own compound. Umbral knew the Traitor, Xerpen was sure of it. Was it possible he had told Finnadro? Had Xerpen rid himself of that tool a day too soon? That Lady Death wanted Dindi dead seemed proof that Yastara was indeed the Traitor; unless Dindi lied. A name from Umbral’s lips would have been a better confirmation.

This was not the first time Umbral had thwarted him. Months ago, in his guise as Snake Bites Twice, Xerpen had expended considerable effort to give Ash the anti-venom to restore her memory. He knew Umbral would find out about it, and take the rest from her. Xerpen had been subtle, indirect—he knew if Umbral suspected manipulation, of the extent of Xerpen’s interest, it would have aroused Umbral’s suspicions. Umbral had destroyed the precious vial of anti-venom without drinking it, and as long as Umbral did not know his own true identity, Xerpen couldn’t discover it either. That vexed him.

And now this! Even in the Blood House, Umbral continued to defy him!

Aggravated, Xerpen summoned the Orange Lady.

The Eagle Queen did not do any man’s bidding without a fight. Xerpen had to twist penumbra into his magic to enforce his Command, and even then she arrived with sullen hate burning in her eyes. She wore the face of a beautiful woman, but her hair fell away into feathers and her golden wings stretched out behind her. Her feet terminated in talons.

“You have not kept your end of our bargain, Bone Whistler,” she sneered. “Where is my Green sister?”

After the New Day, Xerpen thought, he would teach the fae to mind him with better manners. For the time being, however, he made his voice soothing.

“It was with this very concern in mind that I called you,” he said.

“You
Commanded
me. Me, the Queen of Eagles! You
dared
.”

As is my right
, he thought coolly, but she would learn that soon enough. “Your sister’s Champion attempted to free her and leaped with her stone body over the edge of the cliff, where the stone lip extends over the western ravine. If you would have your sister’s body back, search there.”

She changed into an eagle and flew away before he dismissed her. Xerpen fumed and considered calling her back just to prove a point, but that would have been unwise, so he bided his time. He had not long to wait, for she returned and changed to human form after only a handful of moments. She was more incensed than before.

“The Green Lady is not there!”

“There was no statue with the body of the dead human?” Xerpen asked with narrowed eyes.

“There was no human corpse. No one fell at the base of the western ravine.”

Xerpen had seen Finnadro leap.

“Gather your warriors,”
he Commanded the Eagle Queen. “We will soon be at war. Your winged minions will set up the cages as we discussed earlier.”

“You do not command me, Bone Whistler!”

“Gather the Vyfae!”
he bellowed. The leash of his magic whipped around her, lashing and binding her, and though she screeched her protest, she bowed her head and flew to do his bidding.

If he had had his bone flute, Xerpen thought, he would not need leashes or naked threats. He would not need brute force or secrecy. Everything could be done in the open, but with kindness and elegance, as befit the leader of the Aelfae. There was much he did now that he regretted, for its crudeness, but on the New Day, it would all change.

He crossed the Bridge to the western summit. It was almost dawn. He found his granddaughter already awake, dressed for battle, outside her lodge.

“Great One,” Amdra said. “We must delay the ritual. The Maze Zavaedi’s ultimatum has not been met, and he will surely keep his word to lay siege to Cliffedge.”

“I’m sure he will,” said Xerpen. He studied his granddaughter’s face. It was an ugly mug, misshapen like her mother’s, but he found to his surprise that he would miss it. “However, the ritual cannot be delayed. The final sacrifice must occur just as the moon swallows the sun whole.

“And I will need your son,” he added.

Amdra did not react with anger, as he had expected. Her voice was flat. “Hawk fought for his life yesterday.”

“Against a clown,” scoffed Xerpen.

“You said it would suffice.”

“
Vessia
said it would suffice. Did you think a slave could win the freedom of an infant who has my blood in his veins?
You
must fight for him, Amdra, against the Champion I will name.”

“My son is gone,” she said. “Hawk escaped and took him.”

Xerpen suddenly understood why she stared at him stoically, resigned but unafraid. He guessed too, who had saved Finnadro.

“You think you have won some great victory,” he hissed. “You have only delayed the inevitable.”

He called for the guard, the human Orange Canyon warriors. A sept of men thudded to him, spears in hand.

“Amdra the Toad Woman is a traitor to Orange Canyon,” he informed them. “Take her and the other slaves in her lodge to the First Cage in the Plaza of the Spider.”

The men were shocked but knew better than to question the wisdom of the Great One. They stripped Amdra of her weapons, bound her arms behind her back and then entered the lodge to rouse the rest of the slaves. Amdra glared at Xerpen, saying nothing as she was trussed up like a sheep to be slaughtered.

Finnadro’s escape, Hawk’s flight, and now Amdra’s betrayal: Had she ruined everything?

The first gray challenge to night touched the tips of the mountains, throwing the snowy peaks into outline. It was dawn on the day of the eclipse. He had but hours to restore the web of his plan.

Xerpen crossed the Bridge again to the Loom House. Inside, he studied the Patterns of the Great Loom. The threads of individual lives intertwined, combined into whole bands, the Patterns of clans and tribes. What was he missing? What?

Then he saw it, two threads reaching from opposite sides of the world to meet and wrap around one another. One was white as a swan, one black as a raven. Two threads that met up with his own (once white, now grey) life thread.

Here.

Now.

And he had almost missed it.

His foolish granddaughter had done him a favor. But for her selfish attempt to save her son, he would have missed this Pattern, the real blood sacrifice he must orchestrate. Amdra’s treason had been destined from the start, just as her demise, and the demise of the human world, had been destined from the dawn of their corn, mud, and blood born race. Even in her attempt to defy him, Amdra would serve him. He would reward her by cherishing her memory long after her mortal body boiled away to black mist.

He felt no guilt, but he did feel a touch of sadness. He understood why she wanted to save the baby. She mistook its life for something precious and irreplaceable, not understanding the truth. He was the only one with the Vision to see what must be done, to understand that his seeming cruelty was actually the highest compassion. Wisdom was a lonely path to walk.

Xerpen pushed aside his melancholy. Here, at the end of days, it was natural to feel some nostalgia for the world he must destroy. His mood would pass.

One day, all who were now blind would see him as he truly was and recognize the sacrifices he had made for the salvation of the world.

Hawk entered the cave behind the half-frozen waterfall. The stars that shone through seemed trapped in the ice.

“Maze Zavaedi,” Hawk said and bowed his head.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t make it,” Vio said. “But I understand you not only kept our rendezvous but freed your son!”

“Yes, uncle. My flight was well-timed, too. By luck and wind, I saved someone from a nasty tumble. I believe you two are already acquainted.” Hawk gestured, and another man reluctantly entered the cave behind him. He had a gaunt and haunted expression.

“Finnadro, son of Obran and Finna, this is a welcome meeting indeed,” said Vio. He clasped Finnadro’s hand, but the younger man did not respond. His hands were cold.

“What troubles you, Finnadro?”

Finnadro glanced sidelong at Hawk. He answered stiffly, “It concerns that man’s master.”

“The Maze Zavaedi is my true liege,” said Hawk. “It was in service to him that I allowed myself to be captured and kept as a slave by those vultures.”

“It’s true,” Vio said briskly. “He is my spy and has been for the past five years.”

“And who is
your
master, Finnadro?” Hawk asked shrewdly. “You seemed quite friendly with the Great One the last time I checked. Are you even now serving him? Are
you
his
spy?”

Vio would have brushed off this accusation, except that Finnadro blanched like a guilty man.

“Why did you throw yourself off the cliff?” demanded Hawk. “How did you know I would be there to catch you?”

Finnadro fell to one knee. He placed his dagger in front of Hawk and the Maze Zavaedi.

“I did serve Xerpen,” Finnadro said hoarsely. “I do not know why, for when I arrived in Cliffedge, I hated all the Orange Canyon folk, especially their War Chief. I blamed him for everything. Yet as soon as I met him, all my suspicions seemed foolish to me, and he seemed to me to be… his song called to me, and I felt he was like a father to me. I did everything he asked. I tortured a man for him…. Oh, mercy…”

Finnadro choked off the rest of his words.

“The man you served, the man you call the Great One,” said Vio, “has been known by other names. He wears many masks and speaks with a forked tongue. I knew him as the Bone Whistler.”

Finnadro looked up, and there were tears on his cheeks. “I have lost my path, and I do not know how to find the way back.”

“You were not the first one deceived by his song, Finnadro. Nor, I fear, will you be the last.”

“I can’t live with what I’ve done.”

“You served him for
three days
. I served him for
fourteen years
.”

Finnadro swallowed hard, appalled, though he had known this about Vio all along. Now perhaps the younger man understood what that really meant.

Vio smiled grimly, not displeased to still inspire fear, but he felt his age. He ached and wanted, more than anything, to be back in his home, on his balcony with a blanket on his lap and Vessia by his side.

“You’re going to live, Finnadro,” Vio said. “Because I command it. Because it’s the only way you can redeem yourself. And because you’re going to help me fight this son of a snake and cut off his two-tongued head once and for all.”

The Aelfae laid Yastara out upon a bed. Lothlo sat vigil on one side, and Kia on the other.

“She was not the Traitor,” said Lothlo. He closed his eyes. “We did make a bargain with Lady Death. She appeared to us as an old woman, and offered to grant us our wish of a child. But we did
not
agree to spy for her. This I swear to you on my honor as an Aelfae.”

“What did you trade, Lothlo?” Vessia asked, her voice dangerously soft.

“Our own lives,” said Lothlo. “Which Lady Death said she would take from us at the time of her choosing. She gave us each a cup to drink, and we shared it equally. Later Kia was born.”

Kia wept. “Father.”

“So Death Cursed you…and you
accepted
it.” Vessia spat. “You
surrendered
to Her. Knowing we might need your spears in battle against Her, you gave your lives and told me nothing! You let me think you were both Uncursed!”

“I’m sorry.” He bowed his head. “We could not tell any of you the truth. It was our secret shame.”