I shrugged a little, not really liking the conversation anymore. “Yeine calls mortality a gift. I think it’s scary, but when you put it that way, maybe it is.”
“Yes.” Eino fell silent. I watched him, and worried. He was so still, just like Papa. But mortals are not meant to be like Itempas. They’re supposed to bend; if they get too much like him, they break.
I could hear some noise downstairs in the house, but I’d sort of pushed it away as unimportant. A moment later, though, I heard footsteps on the stairs that led up to the roof, and then Arolu opened the door. He was breathing hard, his handsome face stark with worry. “Eino,” he said, then seemed to run out of things to say. A moment later, however, he was pushed forward and out of the doorway, and three women in black uniforms stepped out onto the rooftop with Fahno in tow looking worried.
“Eino mau Tehno?” This was one of the uniformed women. As weapons went she had only a knife strapped across the small of her back, but her hand was on the hilt of this. “You are summoned. The Council would like a word with you.”
“Would they?” asked Eino, as I got to my feet. He didn’t sound alarmed, and suddenly he was smiling. It was a strange smile. “Good. I’d like to talk to them, too.”
I did not know this at the time, but later I showed my older siblings a memory of this smile, and they said it was a lot like Sieh’s had been, when he was up to something scary.
The women in the uniforms took Eino back to the place I’d visited on my first day in the mortal realm: the Raringa, a great domed building where the Warriors’ Council held court and decided the fate of the Darre.
I tried to stay with Eino, because I did not know what was going on but it seemed to be bad. Fahno made me walk with her and Arolu instead, though, because—she said—it would make the Council more prejudiced against Eino if I misbehaved. I wasn’t sure if I believed her, but I stayed quiet and near her anyway, just in case. Mikna and Lumyn were there at the Raringa, too, arriving when we did; Lumyn glanced at us but moved to the other side of a gathering knot of women moving into the chamber, while Mikna came over and nodded briskly to Fahno, her jaw set and tight. She saw me and nodded again. Even Ia was there, appearing quietly beside us as we claimed a spot amid the gathering crowd of onlookers.
“What’s happening?” I whispered to him. A lot of people looked at us; I’d been too loud again.
“I don’t know,” he said, frowning slightly. That made me worry more, and I was already worried lots. I didn’t like the look on Ia’s face. I didn’t like that Eino had said And if you can’t? Live with it.
I especially didn’t like that I knew Eino still had Lumyn’s knife, hidden somewhere in his robes.
At the door of the Council chamber the uniformed women tried to put shackles on Eino. I bared my teeth and made them go away. They looked at him like he had done it. He smiled and said, “There’s no need for that, is there?” And they did not try to put shackles on him again.
Fahno looked at me very hard and suspiciously! But she did not know for sure, and that was what mattered. I had learned a lot from Eino.
Now Eino knelt at the center of a wide circle of some fifty or sixty old women seated on cushions, and one much younger woman who sat on an elevated stool facing him. He was quiet and still, his eyes downcast, his robes a swirl of bright burgundy-emerald jewel tones around him; the women were stark and restless in black and gray, murmuring to one another and glaring over pursed lips and sniffing noses. I didn’t like any of them.
But it was Fahno who made a rumbly sound that made me think of stormclouds, and Fahno who pushed me aside so she could stalk forward and stand in front of Eino, glaring back at the women around her.
“This is a full Council,” she said. Her voice was really quiet; that was how everyone could tell just how mad she was. “Is there some reason why I was not informed of this meeting?”
The young woman took a deep breath; I didn’t blame her. “You’re too close to the situation, Fahno-enulai. You would’ve had to recuse yourself in any case, so we bypassed that step for efficiency’s sake.”
“I would’ve appreciated the chance to recuse myself,” she said, glowering, “especially as then you would’ve had to tell me what the hells this is all about.”
“This isn’t about you, Fahno,” said one of the other women, from the far side of the circle.
“Not about me?” Fahno’s voice was big and wide, like she was; when she used it fully, it almost filled the domed chamber. Several of the women nearest her flinched. “You drag my grandson here, on the eve of his marriage, and this has nothing to do with me?”
Another woman leaned forward, looking as angry as Fahno. “If you want us to consider you, Fahno—and your permissiveness, your indulgence, how this boy’s wildness is due to your incompetence as a clan matriarch, we certainly will—”
“If I may,” said Eino, from where he knelt behind Fahno. He said it lightly, in a pleasant tone, but his voice was just as deep and resonant as Fahno’s; everyone started and turned to him, Fahno included. He smiled and ducked his eyes demurely. “If I may, great warriors, Kitke-ennu, my beba. I would like to speak for myself.”
“This isn’t the time,” Fahno snapped.
“There will be no better, Beba. Please.”
She stared at him; he stared back. For the first time I realized they had the same eyes, just as deepwater black and implacable, even though Eino’s were lined with kohl and silver-lidded and Fahno’s were deep-set and ringed from worry. She shook her head just a little, and I almost heard the speech-without-words between them! Or maybe I imagined it? I won’t be able to protect you, she said, I thought.
I’ll protect myself, he said back, and I shivered all over without knowing why. But at the end of the exchange, Fahno sighed and stepped aside. She lingered in the circle, though, her arms folded, making clear by her presence that Eino was not without his supporters.
I pushed forward through the crowd, too, before Mikna could grab me, and I took Fahno’s hand. She glanced down at me in surprise, and some of the old women gave me bad looks. I did not give them bad looks back! I was being very mature.
“Please,” said Eino. He spoke quietly now, but his back was very straight, his hands very flat in his lap. “May I know why I have been brought here?”
The young woman seemed to consider whether to answer. “There has been an accusation,” she said, finally—and then she eyed Fahno. “One that we have already dismissed as groundless, mind you. It was unofficial in any case, made by Luud mau Esuum, a young unproven man of one of the merchant clans. We are aware that young men can be… excitable.”
Many of the women in the circle nodded, some indulgently, some maliciously. Eino bore it all without a twitch and said, “And what was the nature of the accusation, Kitke-ennu, if I—or my clan matriarch—may know?”
“Sedition.” Kitke-ennu said this flatly, but there was a rustle around the chamber again—not amid the ring of Council-women this time, but the watching crowd, most of whom apparently hadn’t known. Kitke scowled. “But we have dismissed it out of respect for Fahno-enulai, who has served Darr well in all her years.”
“Sedition!” Eino laughed then, stilling the murmurs; women stared at him, shocked. He shook his head to himself. “Oh, poor Luud. He’d have done better to accuse me of luring him into iniquity; you would have believed that. What did you do to him, to scare him so badly that he told the truth?”