Bagnel's gaze strayed to Marika. To her consternation, she found she was unable to meet his eye.
From the reaction of the silth around her, Marika judged that what Bagnel had described was possible. The sisters were very disturbed. She heard the name "Serke" whispered repeatedly, often with a pejorative attached.
Senior Koenic struck the floor three times with the butt of her staff of office. Absolute silence filled the hall. "I will have order here," the senior said. "Order. Are we rowdy packsteaders?" She began to read the papers the tradermales had given her. Her teeth showed ever more as she proceeded. Black anger smoldered behind her eyes.
She lifted her gaze. "You are correct, tradermale. The thing they propose is hideous, but it is possible-assuming they surprised us. You have blessed us. We owe you a great deal. And the Reugge do not forget their debts."
Bagnel made gestures of gratitude and obeisance Marika suspected to be more diplomatic than genuine. He said, "If this is the true feeling of the Akard senior, the Critza master would present a small request."
"Speak."
"There is equally a master plan for the capture of Critza. And it will work even though we know about it. Unless ... "
"Ah. You did not bring us this dark news out of love." The senior's voice was edged with a brittle sarcasm.
It did not touch the messenger. "The master suggests that you might find it in the Reugge interest to help sustain at least one other civilized stronghold here in the Ponath."
"That may be true. It may not be. To the point, trader."
"As you will, Senior." Bagnel's gaze strayed to Marika once again. "The master has asked that two or three sisters, preferably dark-siders, be sent to help Critza repel the expected attack. They would not be at great risk, as the nomads would not expect their presence. The master feels that, should the nomads suffer massive defeats at both fortresses in rapid succession, they will harass us no further. At least for this winter. Their own dead will sustain them through the season."
Marika shuddered.
The evidence had been undeniable in the packsteads she had seen last summer. The nomads had let the grauken come in and become a working member of their society. Whatever had shattered the old pack structure and driven them into hording up had changed much more than that.
"Your master thinks well. For a male. He may be correct. Presuming these papers carry the whole story." A hint of a question lurked around the edges of the senior's remark.
"I participated in the questioning, Senior. I am willing to face a silth truthsaying to attest to their authenticity and completeness."
Marika was impressed. A truthsaying was a terrible thing to endure.
"Send Marika," Gorry blurted. "She is perfect for this. And no one will miss her if she were lost."
"Ought to send you," someone muttered. "No one would miss you."
Gorry heard. She scanned the assembly, her expression stricken.
The senior glared at Gorry, angered by the unsolicited suggestion. But then she turned thoughtful.
Marika's heart fell.
"There is truth in what you say, Gorry," Senior Koenic said. "Even though you say it from base motives. Thus does the All mock the littleness in our hearts, making us speak the truth in the guise of lies. Very well, tradermale. You shall have your sisters. We will send three of our youngest and strongest-though not necessarily our most skillful-for they face a journey that will be hard. You will not want to lose any along the way."
Bagnel's face remained stone.
"So? What say you?"
"Thank you, Senior."
Senior Koenic clapped paws. "Strohglay." A sister opened a door and beckoned. A pair of senior workers stepped inside. The senior told them, "Show these males to cells where they may spend the night. Give them of the best food we possess. Tradermale, you will not leave your quarters under any circumstances. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Senior."
Koenic gestured to the workers. They led the males away.
The senior asked, "Are there any volunteers? No? No one wants to see the inside of the mysterious Critza fortress? Marika? Not even you?"
No. Not Marika. She did not volunteer.
Neither did anyone else.
III
Marika did not volunteer. Nevertheless, she went. There was no arguing with Senior Koenic.
Much of the time they traveled in Biter's light, upon snow under which, yards below, the waters of the Hainlin ran colder than a wehrlen's heart. In places that snow was well packed, for the nomads used the rivercourse as their highway through the wilderness, though they traveled only by day.
Braydic said most of the nomads were south of Akard now, harrying the meth who lived down there. She said the stream of invective and impossible instructions from Maksche never ceased. And never did any good. The only way they could enforce their orders was to come north themselves. Which was what Senior Koenic wished to compel.
Marika was miserable and frightened. The stillness of the night was the stillness of death. Its chill was the cold of the grave. Though Biter lingered overhead, she felt the Hainlin canyon was a vast cave, and that cave called up all her old terrors of Machen Cave.
There was something wicked in the night.
"They only sent me because they hope to be rid of me," she told Grauel and Barlog. Both her packmates had volunteered to come when they heard the call for huntress volunteers and learned that Marika had been assigned to go. Marika wondered if the silth could have kept them back had they wanted.
"Perhaps," Barlog said. "And perhaps, if one might speak freely before a sister, you attribute the motives of the guilty few to the innocent many."
Grauel agreed. "You are the youngest, and one of the least popular silth. None can dispute that. But your unpopularity is of your own making, Marika. Though you have been trying. You have been trying. Ah. Wait! Listen and reflect. If you apply reason to your present circumstance, you will have to admit there is no one in Akard more suited to this, the rest of the situation aside. You have become skilled in the silth's darkest ways. The deadly ways. You are young and strong. And you endure the cold better than anyone else."
"If one might dare speak freely before a sister," Barlog said again, "you are whining like a disappointed pup. You are shifting blame to others and refusing responsibility yourself. I recall you in your dam's loghouse. You were not that way then. You were a quiet one, and a dreamer, and a pest to all, but mistress of your own actions. You have developed a regressive streak. And it is not at all attractive in one with so much promise."
Marika was so startled by such bold chiding that she held her tongue. And as she marched, pressed by the pace the tradermales set, she reflected upon what the huntresses had said. And in moments when she was honest with herself, she could not deny the truth underlying their accusations.
She had come to pity herself, in a silth sort of way. She had come to think certain things her due without her having to earn them, as the silth seemed to think the world owed them. She had fallen into one of Gorry's snares.
There had been a time when she had vowed that she would not slip into the set of mind she so despised in her instructress. A time when she had believed her packstead background would immunize her. Yet she was beginning to mirror Gorry.
Many miles later, after much introspection, she asked, "What did you mean when you said 'so much promise,' Barlog?"