“You look at the Red Tongue and it frightens you,” Fessran continued. “Why? Because it is stronger than you are and fiercer and wilder? Yes! It is a creature far greater than any of us. It can live forever if it is kept fed and it can grow larger than any animal. The fire-creature takes, as its prey, not only the beasts of the forest, but the forest itself, and, when it is angered, nothing between ground and sky escapes its rage.”
Fessran’s eyes seemed to have a glint to them that was not her own yellow-amber, but a deeper shade ... almost orange. Something made Thakur look off to the side at Shongshar. He was leaning forward over the cubs, his gaze intent, his eyes narrowed. His jaw moved as if he were speaking the same words to himself and the fire’s glare flashed on his sabers.
Fessran continued, “We may warm ourselves before the Red Tongue and see by its light, but we may do so only as long as we are worthy. And how may we prove our worth? By striving to be as strong and fierce as we can. By thinking not of our paws or our whiskers, but of our duty to the Red Tongue. By refusing to show fear even when it claws at our throats and our bellies. That is what the Red Tongue demands of us.”
Fessran paused and surveyed the group. Khushi looked more miserable than ever. “Not all of you will be chosen to train as Firekeepers,” she said. “I must know which of you are worthy.” Her tail twitched restlessly as she curled it over her feet. “Those cubs who think they are brave enough to carry the Red Tongue, come and stand before me.”
Some youngsters strutted forward, their tails high and their whiskers bristling with confidence. Others, like Khushi, crept forward nervously, unwilling to be shamed by their littermates. They arranged themselves in an uneven row in front of Fessran. The harsh light of the bonfire made them squint and blink. She paced before the cubs, studying each one in turn.
“Good,” she said finally and looked toward Shongshar. “Bring me a torch,” she commanded. He lit a dry branch and brought it to her. The cubs’ eyes widened and they sat still, their gaze fixed on the Firekeeper.
Thakur tensed. What was Fessran doing?
The Firekeeper swung around, the torch clenched in her jaws. The flame fluttered and roared as she swept it across in front of the cubs’ faces.
Several youngsters squealed in terror and fled with their tails between their legs. Others, like Chika, skittered away, turned and faced the flame with ears laid back. A few cubs flinched and crouched, holding their ground. The fur rose along their backs and bristled on their short tails.
Fessran also looked startled, as if she hadn’t expected so many of them to flee. Thakur saw her glance toward Shongshar as if seeking reassurance. Again she passed the torch in front of the remaining youngsters, trying to rout them. All but Nyang backed away, hissing.
It was all Thakur could do not to jump into the midst of the gathering and snatch the brand away from Fessran. He only held back by telling himself that she must have a reason for this, however harsh and cruel it seemed.
She gave the brand back to Shongshar, who replaced it in the fire. “So,” she said, looking out over the Firekeepers and the shaken cubs. “You see that being chosen to serve the Red Tongue isn’t as easy as you thought. Those of you who stayed within the gathering circle have shown you can fight the fear. Return to your places.”
“Firekeeper leader,” said one cub in a high quavering voice. “The ones who ran away haven’t come back yet. Someone should look for them.”
Fessran turned to Bira. “Find the litterlings who fled and take them back to their mothers. None of them are worth training.”
Bira left. Thakur felt disbelief hit him and drain through him. He had disciplined cubs himself and treated them harshly, but never had he seen youngsters so deliberately terrified and humiliated. Did it matter to Fessran that her son Khushi had been among those who fled?
He looked again at the cubs who remained in the gathering and saw the fright and rage on their faces turn into fierce determination. Perhaps this was Fessran’s way of inspiring them, by making them angry enough to fight back and demonstrate that they were worthy to become Firekeepers. Even so, her tactics seemed cruel and unnecessary.
Then he realized that some of the crowd had noticed his presence and other heads were starting to turn. Hastily he ducked down and backed out from among them. He flattened in the grass in the darkness, suddenly aware of his racing heartbeat. Fessran had begun to speak again, distracting attention from him. Quickly he wriggled away on his belly until he was far enough from them to run. As he paused and his eyes grew accustomed to the night again, he saw a form flee from behind the sunning rock.
The figure was slender and lithe, with a long tail. It was gone before Thakur was sure that he had seen it. “Ratha?” he muttered to himself in the darkness, but he wasn’t sure. His first impulse was to follow, but the smoky haze that now filled the air made it impossible to track by scent. He decided it would be best to return to his den to rest and think.
On the way to his lair, he visited Ratha’s on the chance she might be there. He found it empty. Feeling uneasy, he sought his own den and the refuge of sleep.
Chapter Eleven
The night winds had blown away the smoky haze and the morning was clear. Ratha lay atop the sunning rock and watched the dawn. She thought about the previous evening and the Firekeepers’ gathering. Her ears swiveled back and the tip of her tail twitched as she remembered what Fessran had done to the cubs.
There was no need to frighten them like that, she thought, nor to build such a large fire. A smaller one would have kept everyone warm. Her tailtip twitched again. But warmth wasn’t what Fessran wanted from the Red Tongue last night, she reminded herself.
Ratha hadn’t really meant to hide and watch in secret. She had been late and by the time she arrived, the flames of the gathering fire were leaping into the night sky. The Red Tongue’s roar concealed her footsteps and its acrid smoke hid her smell. She could hear Fessran speaking, however, and the Firekeeper’s words weren’t what she expected to hear. The mood of the group was unusually grim and tense, as if they were readying themselves to fight some enemy instead of welcoming the youngsters who were to be trained as Firekeepers. Even the small cubs had serious expressions on their faces, although a few just looked miserable.
She had stopped her approach, sensing that her presence would disrupt what was happening. For a while, she stood still, listening, torn between her wish to approach openly and her need to know more about this gathering. At last, with a pang of regret for her choice, she circled downwind, through the billowing smoke, and found a place behind the sunning rock where she could watch and listen without being noticed.
The sunning rock. She had been there last night and she was here again. If she leaned over the edge and looked down, she knew she would see her own pugmarks in the dirt where she had crouched beside the base of the stone. If she looked the other way, she would see the freshly turned soil mixed with ash where the Firekeepers had buried the remains of the bonfire. This morning, she had squatted there and watered the place before climbing onto the sunning rock, taking some satisfaction in that small act of possession. She turned her back on the site, preferring to look out over the pasture to where the dapplebacks and three-horns grazed, with the herders tending them.
One thought remained in her mind, however, and it kept irritating her like a bone splinter between her teeth. The harshness of the Firekeepers’ test had startled her. Although she knew it was necessary to eliminate timid cubs from those who were to be trained, Ratha found herself disliking Fessran’s method. The idea was so uncharacteristic of her friend that she wondered if someone else, such as Shongshar, had suggested it.