Shia growled under her breath. “I just feel so stupid. I wouldn’t have felt so bad, had we not ended up on Steelclaw. When I think of the risk and the danger—not just to ourselves, but to everyone!” She shuddered. “It’s an alarming and uncomfortable feeling, to know that your wits can just desert you like that.”
“Well,” Chiamh comforted her, “it may have been the proximity to your home territory that set you off. You know, like salmon swimming home to spawn.”
“Is that what they do?” Shia asked with interest. “All I know about them is that they make good eating.”
“Stop trying to change the subject,” the Windeye chuckled. “When will your cubs be due?”
“Do you mind?” the cat protested. “I’m trying not to think about it. About two moons and a half,” she added after a moment. “Didn’t you need to talk to Aurian?”
“Whether I did or I didn’t, I can certainly recognize a change of subject when I hear one. No, you’ve convinced me to let Aurian sleep on. We won’t be going anywhere while it’s daylight, in any case. I think I’ll get some rest myself.”
But Chiamh had overheard enough in Dhiammara to make his sleep uneasy, and to fill his dreams with images of bloodshed and war.
“I never thought I would see this place again,” Eliizar said bitterly. He looked out from between the bars of the hastily constructed slave stockade at the gigantic, ground-level cavern that was hollowed out of Dhiammara’s mountain. “I curse the day I last set eyes on it,” he went on, “and I curse the Mage who brought me here.”
Nereni took his hand. “My love, it’s scarcely fair to blame Aurian. How could it be her fault that her enemies attacked our home? Why, were it not for her, we would never have had a colony.”
“And were it not for her, we would never have had a child—and look what happened.” Eliizar’s voice thickened with grief. “Why, Nereni? How, after all these barren years of longing, could the Reaper see fit to bless us with a child, and then be so cruel as to snatch her away again? I’ll tell you why...”
He turned on Nereni, his one eye blazing fiercely. “Because the Reaper never meant us to have her, that’s why. That Mage interfered with nature, and made us go against the god’s divine will. Amahli was an abomination in his sight.—She was taken from us as a punishment.. ..”
Nereni leapt angrily to her feet. “I will not sit here and listen to you saying such things!” she spat. “And if you ever call our daughter an abomination again, I swear I’ll kill you with my own bare hands!” She stormed off across the cramped pen, barely noticing as the other slaves scrambled quickly out of her way. Finding the farthest corner away from Eliizar, she sat facing the wall so that she would not have to look at him—and so no one could see her cry.
After a time, Nereni felt a hand on her shoulder. She spun round angrily.
“Eliizar, go—oh, it’s you, Jharav. Well, go away. I don’t want to talk to anybody.”
Ignoring the hostile shoulder that she turned toward him, the fat old warrior sat down with a grunt beside her. “Be patient with him, Nereni. It is grief that makes him say these things. You know how he worshipped Amahli....”
“And I did not, I suppose?” Nereni snapped.
“You know I didn’t mean that—we all have our grief to bear,” Jharav sighed.
“Yes—exactly. You lost poor Ustila, but I never hear you talking like Eliizar, about Gods and punishment and suchlike nonsense. Is the world not a bad enough place without bringing the Gods into it?”
Jharav laughed sourly. “I doubt that the priests would agree with you there, but for us ordinary folk, it might not be such a bad thing! Nay, but truly, Nereni, you cannot throw out the good with the bad. Why, I gain a great deal of comfort from thinking of my Ustila safe and happy in the Reaper’s care.”
“Yes, but your god is a kindly god,” Nereni argued. “Eliizar’s Reaper seems all spite and vengeance—surely a god would be above such petty things?”
The warrior shook his head. “Give him time, Nereni. Give him time.”
“I need scarcely bother,” Nereni retorted bitterly. “What would be the point, Jharav? It won’t be long before that evil woman works us all to death. What can she be planning to do with this city that we seem to be reconstructing with our bare hands? And what will she do with us—those that survive at least—when it’s finished?”
“As to that, I scarcely dare imagine. But I suspect that the Evil One intends to reign over the entire South from here,” Jharav told her gravely. “This place would make an ideal stronghold. And if she already controls the Aerillian Skyfolk—cursed be their name—then it can only be a matter of time before the other lands and races will fall into her hands.”
“In that case,” Nereni said with quiet dignity, “I would rather be dead, and with my daughter.”
Just at that moment, Lanneret, Raven’s three-year-old son, came toddling up.
“Reni,” he quavered, tugging at her sleeve, “Mother’s crying again.”
Nereni sighed, and gathered him into her arms. She was horrified to see that even his little legs had been weighed down with shackles and heavy chains—a precaution that had been taken with all the captive Skyfolk, to prevent them escaping from Dhiammara by air. “All right, little one,” she told him. “I’ll come right now.”
As she got to her feet, she turned back to Jharav. “You know,” she said, “before I met Aurian, I was always too nervous and afraid to be any use in an emergency or a crisis. Now look at me—I shoulder not only my own burdens but everyone else’s, too.” She gave a short, sour laugh. “Sometimes I’m not sure whether I am grateful to the Mage or not. It was far easier to be helpless.”
Raven was sitting beside her consort’s unmoving body, her tears dripping down onto the winged man’s bruised and swollen face. On the ground beside her, her baby was screaming, but Raven did not even spare a glance for the tiny girl.
“Oh, Nereni,” she whispered. “I think he’s going to die.”
Aguila had been severely beaten and kicked while trying to protect his queen and children from the brutality of Sunfeather and the guards. For over a day now, he had been unconscious, his breathing shallow and his body cold. To Nereni, these were all bad signs, but for Raven’s sake, she tried to keep her fears to herself. In a way, Aguila’s lack of consciousness had been the very thing that had so far protected the Queen from Sunfeather’s advances. There was a whole history of spite and hatred between the two warriors—Sunfeather had always believed that he should have been Royal Consort instead of Aguila with his lowly background. Nereni knew that he would use this chance to take Raven, to make her pay for rejecting him—but Sunfeather wanted Aguila to witness his victory. Until it could be seen whether her consort would live or die, Raven was fairly safe—as long as Sunfeather’s patience held out.—Nereni concealed the flash of rage she felt at Raven’s disregard for her babe.—Doesn’t she realize how lucky she is to have little Elster? the Khazalim woman thought. Some of us will never see our daughters again—we would give anything to have what Raven has. Nevertheless, she took the winged woman in her arms, and let her weep for a time—before she took her to task. “Raven, you must face facts,” she said firmly. “We have no medicines for Aguila, nor a physician to help Him. All we can do is try to keep him warm, and pray that his own strength will suffice to bring him through. In the meantime, however,” she added sternly, “you can take care of your children—and you must. Lanneret gets frightened when he sees you crying like that. You must be brave for him. And you must feed your daughter, Raven, and hold her to keep her warm. She needs you more than Aguila does at the moment. What would Elster say if she could see you neglecting her little namesake thus?”