"Did I what?" Sunbright asked.
"Did you-kill anyone?"
A strange question in an odd tone, the shaman thought. "No," he told her. "Did you?"
"No. I don't-I don't want to kill anyone. Them."
"Elves, you mean?"
She nodded, forgetting he couldn't see the motion in the dark, then said, "Yes."
"Because they're elves?" Sunbright asked. He watched for anyone lurking or advancing. But wavy grass made a darker line against a dark sky, and nothing broke the line.
"More than that," she said, leaning on the arrow, then cursing under her breath. "They look like me."
"They do?" he asked, then the snap of the shaft ended the questions. "Douse this magic light."
"I can't," Knucklebones said, sounding oddly hurt. "Don't you know I can't dispel it? It fades on its own."
"Oh," he said awkwardly. "No, I never knew that."
There was much he didn't know about this part-elven thief from the future. Why didn't he? He'd known Greenwillow to her core, or thought he had. Then he was busy wrestling Magichunger onto his shoulders like a dead ox. Glancing around, he set off at a quick march.
"No! This way!" came the thief's whisper.
Flustered, Sunbright staggered after her voice. Normally he knew the compass with his eyes closed. He was rattled to mess up now. Rattled by Knucklebones's queer reticence about fighting, and killing, and not knowing magic, and much else that only a woman could know.
But one thing he knew: he didn't want to kill elves either. Not Greenwillow's kin.
Disgusted with his own maundering, he concentrated on lugging Magichunger to safety.
A glow silhouetted a grassy hummock to mark the main camp, though the barbarians were scattered along a five-mile line out in the prairie. Sunbright staggered toward the fire with his burden, Knucklebones dogging his heels. They didn't expect to be welcomed as heroes, but were unprepared for ugly wrath.
People spilled from the firelight to grab Magichunger, immediately shouting.
"Archloft says you left Nightchild's body to the wolves!" growled Mightylaugh.
"The Rengarth always bring out their dead!" shrilled Forestvictory. "Always!"
"You must go back for him!" yelled another.
"And who made Sunbright war chief if Magichunger falls? A shaman is never war chief! It's not allowed!" called a fourth.
Yet their shouts died as Rightdove pointed to the blue-white gleam on Magichunger's leg. "Witchlight!" Rightdove gasped. "Did you do this, Sunbright?"
"It smacks of magic!" said Forestvictory.
Knucklebones piped up, "That's my doing, a simple cantra. Everyone born to the empire can perform small magic-"
No one listened. "Magic is forbidden!" a voice shouted.
"Taboo!"
"Hush, all!" Sunbright was exhausted in mind and body by the fight and panic, and drained of spirit. Taking Knucklebone's hand, he let others lug Magichunger to the fire, then asked, "What is there to eat?"
"Nothing!" Goodbell spat. She nursed a fidgety child by the fire, her face drawn and lined. "Our best hunters lie dead in the forest where the game must hide. The prairie offers nothing."
Sunbright plunked on grass by the fire. Dried dung smoked and wafted into his eyes. "I'll try tracking game at dawn," he promised.
"Better hunt that fight!" Mightylaugh said as he strode to the fire. "You learned nothing, Kindbloom tells us. You only got Magichunger shot full of arrows."
"We learned plenty," Sunbright snapped. "Use your brains instead of your mouth."
Magichunger's mother and sisters bandaged him, wrapped him in blankets, and rolled him near the fire. Fighters stood with empty hands, or swished swords in their anger. More barbarians came from the dark to hear the news and arguments. Mightylaugh demanded, "What did we learn?"
The shaman scrubbed aching temples, and said, "I'm guessing, but think on this: I don't believe the elves mean us harm-"
"No harm!" scoffed several.
"I think they simply bar us from the forest. They can see in the dark. They shot Magichunger three times, recognizing he's war chief, and could have shot me a dozen times as I lugged him out, yet they didn't. So-"
"You're an elf friend!" someone bawled from the dark. "They wouldn't shoot you!"
Knucklebones's hand tightened on Sunbright's leg. The shaman refused to take the bait. "Look at the evidence," he demanded. 'They could have killed us all, but instead they let us escape, and didn't pursue."
"They're afraid to fight us!" Kindbloom crowed. "They're cowards, and know we're better warriors!"
"Further," Sunbright plowed on, "if they intended war, they could slip out here and slit our throats while we sleep. They could slide through this grass like snakes, but don't."
"Get past our guards? Not likely!"
"Never! The prairie belongs to the Rengarth!"
"And," hollered the shaman, "I don't think there are many elves. We're only attacked by three dozen at most. Their tribe must be small. Legends say elves are scarce."
"Legends say they turn invisible, and I don't see that!" argued Mightylaugh.
"If we could force them to fight here, we'd make mincemeat of 'em!" added Kindbloom. "No elf can stand against a barbarian!"
"They're cowards! Skulking like coyotes in the dark!" chimed Archloft. "We should burn the forest, drive them out like rats from grain!"
More threats, rants, hollering. Sunbright groaned at their illogic, and cursed himself too. His proud people refused to consider anything new, buried their heads in custom and tradition like a child burrowing under blankets. It was partly his own fault, for he'd recalled them to tradition, too well. Faced with a new problem, they could only ply old ways, lash out blindly instead of think.
Knucklebones huddled against Sunbright, and gripped his brawny arm with her small, strong hand. Over the belligerent bellowing, she murmured, "They call you elf-friend."
"They call me many names," he reassured her. "It's just wind."
"But you are an elf-friend, for my blood is shared with the Old Ones."
Sunbright squeezed her hands. "I love you, no matter what you are," he said.
Her hands jerked back, surprising him. One slanted eye glared, and she said, "You think it's evil to possess elven blood?"
"No!" he exclaimed. Shanks of Shar, thought Sunbright, was everyone mad? "No, I think… Don't you turn against me too!"
In apology, Knucklebones laid her tousled dark head against his shoulder. "I won't," she promised, "but I honestly don't know what I am, Sunbright."
Tired, fuddled, the man hugged her close, kissed her curls. Around them, the frustrated war talk failed. The last question was, "So what now?"
"Try peace," offered Sunbright. Eyes turned: hostile, confused, angry. "Carry a flag of truce to the forest. See if the elves will talk. Explain we seek to camp and hunt and then move on. Perhaps they'll let us stay."
"You said we'd winter over into spring, not move on!" spat Goodbell. "Which is true?"
"Either," Sunbright hedged. "What's important is to talk. It can't hurt."
"They'd kill the messenger!"
"Let Sunbright carry the flag!" someone piped. "It's his idea!"
"I'm willing," he said. Though tired, the shaman stood. "Even collecting an arrow would be worth it, just to see the enemy's face. I'll go at dawn."
"I'll go with you," Knucklebones added.
"No, you won't!" Mightylaugh roared. When the crowd hushed, he barged on. "If we parade to beg a crust of bread and sip of water, they'll think us weak! We'll have lost the war! I say-"
"Who are you to contradict a council?" Sunbright snapped.
"This is no council!" Mightylaugh spat. The big man had earned his name for his jolly manner, but that had evaporated under the recent strain. The whole tribe was wrought up. "The council rules in peace. This is war, and the war chief decides! Magichunger is hurt, so as second, I become war chief, and I say we attack at dawn when the rogues are tired from watching through the night. We attack with every fighter, and slay every pointy-eared bastard in the forest!"
The tribes' battle cry shook the starry night. Screaming and whooping ran up and down the line of campfires. Sunbright spat in disgust. That challenge would alert every elf from the Barren to the Purple Mountains. And the mountains wouldn't be barren, but drenched in blood. He groused to Knucklebones, "Ravens and foxes and maggots will rejoice at this choice."
"We don't expect you to join us, Sunbright!" sneered Mightylaugh. "You or your pointy-eared friend."
"We'll fight," the shaman returned. "If nothing else, I can fetch wounded. That'll keep me plenty busy. But be warned…" Standing tall against the small fire and dark horizon, he reached over his shoulder, and hauled out Harvester of Blood with a low moan. The long blade flashed yellow in the firelight. "The next time someone mentions the ears of the woman I love, or doubts her loyalty, I'll cut off his ears and feed them to him."
The shaman stalked into the night.
Knucklebones matched his long strides by half-skipping, clinging to his elbow. Her spirit sang at Sunbright's public proclamation of love. Yet she sorrowed, too. For deep in her heart, she doubted her own loyalty.