"I think they must have sent their shapers to the south end of the sept," Cresenne said, her voice low. "They're dead already."
"Fire!" the n'qlae said, a note of triumph in her voice.
Already another flame was forming out on the plain, but this one was small and weak-a far cry from the attacks that had come earlier. The n'qlae's answering fire dwarfed that of the J'Balanar. It rushed toward what remained of the raiders, smothering that small flame and abruptly cutting off the low moans and cries of those who had been wounded.
Silence descended on the plain, broken only by the wind, the dry crackle of burning grass, and the crying of a young child from one of the z'kals.
The n'qlae turned to all of them, the smile on her face harsh and exultant. "The night is ours!" she said.
A cheer went up from the Fal'Borna.
The n'qlae approached Besh, Sirj, and Cresenne. "The three of you fought well! The a'laq will hear of what you did tonight." She looked around at her fellow Fal'Borna. "These three fought as Fal'Borna! It'll soon be dawn and I say we should feast on the morrow and all day to honor them as new members of our clan! What say you?"
Again the Fal'Borna shouted their approval.
The n'qlae nodded, still smiling. "So be it!" She looked at Cresenne and the two Mettai. "You have our thanks. We'll see to the young ones and then gather the dead," she said, raising her voice again.
She walked away, followed by the women and those few men who were still in the sept.
Watching her go, Besh felt sick to his stomach. He had done what he had to-and he would have done it again if it meant saving Sirj and himself, and Cresenne and her child. But this had been his first battle, and though he and Sirj hadn't killed anyone, they'd had a hand in the deaths of dozens.
"Are you all right?" Cresenne asked him, seeming to read his thoughts.
"Yes, thank you."
"You saved us all," she said. "Both of you did. The a'laq is sure to free you now, no matter what happens."
Besh nodded, but neither he nor Sirj said anything.
"I need to check on Bryntelle," the woman said, backing away from them, clearly anxious to find her daughter.
"Of course. Go." Besh made himself smile, though it faded as soon as she turned her back on them and hurried away.
"We're warriors now," Besh said, as they watched the woman disappear into the night. "First Lici made me a killer, and now I'm a warrior."
"What did you expect would happen when we cast that spell?" Sirj asked. "I didn't think about it."
Sirj turned to look at him. "Well, I did. If we'd lost, the J'Balanar would have killed us both, and that woman, and her baby. Maybe I should feel guilty, but I don't. You promised Elica that you'd keep me alive, and you did that. Again. So, unless you regret it, I'd suggest you stop feeling sorry for yourself and instead thank the gods that we're still alive to tell Mihas and Annze and Cam the story of this night."
"You're right," Besh said.
The younger man seemed surprised by this. After a moment he nodded once and then walked away.
Besh remained where he was, staring out over the plain, watching as the last of the small grass fires burned themselves out. He wanted to weep, but he didn't allow himself that release. Cresenne and Sirj were right: People were going to die this night no matter what. Better the J'Balanar raiders than them.
But a part of him couldn't help wishing that he'd never left Kirayde.
Chapter 22
After the hunt, the warriors and their a'laqs enjoyed a feast of all the rilda that Grinsa and the other hunters had killed. Grinsa made a point of sitting with E'Menua, Q'Daer, L'Norr, and the warriors from E'Menua's sept, though he would have preferred to sup with O'Tal and his men. He also apologized to E'Menua for hunting with O'Tal rather than with Q'Daer.
"I didn't realize I was expected to hunt with the men from our sept, A'Laq," he said as they ate. "O'Tal invited me to hunt and I thought it would be all right if I hunted with him. I meant no offense."
E'Menua still appeared to be sulking, but he waved off Grinsa's apology. "It doesn't matter," he said. "I wasn't offended."
Grinsa wasn't sure he believed this, but he kept his doubts to himself. "You and O'Tal are rivals," he said instead.
The a'laq's eyes narrowed, giving his face a feral look. "Is that what he told you?"
"I just gathered as much from the way the two of you spoke to each other."
Again E'Menua dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. "I care little about him one way or another. He's a pup. A few years from now he might be a worthy rival to me, but for now he doesn't have enough hunts under his belt or Weavers in his sept to be of consequence."
For several moments they ate, saying nothing. The rilda was delicious-the best meat he'd ever had. He still hoped to leave the Fal'Borna and make a life for himself and his family somewhere else in the Southlands, but he couldn't deny that he would miss rilda meat. Dried and salted, or fresh like this, he couldn't imagine growing tired of it.
"Q'Daer says you hunted well," E'Menua said, finally breaking the silence.
Grinsa glanced past the a'laq to the young Weaver, who sat beside E'Menua on the a'laq's right. He was chewing and grinning back at Grinsa. "Q'Daer is being generous, A'Laq. I brought down the doe I was hunting, but another hunter had to kill her for me."
"You brought her down while you were riding?" E'Menua asked.
"Yes."
"And you didn't fall from your horse?"
Grinsa smiled in spite of himself, remembering how close he had come to being unhorsed. "No, I didn't fall, though I almost did."
The a'laq nodded. "For a stranger to these lands on his first hunt, that's nothing to be ashamed of."
It might well have been the kindest thing E'Menua had ever said to him. "Thank you, A'Laq."
They lapsed into silence once more. E'Menua ate but seemed distracted, his gaze continually sweeping over the gathering. Grinsa knew that he'd been unhappy when he and his army first joined O'Tal's and H'Loryn's. E'Menua had expected there to be more warriors and Weavers at this meeting place-six or seven septs' worth. But no new a'laqs had joined them. They had perhaps four hundred warriors to face an Eandi army that some had said consisted of ten times that many men.
"Do you think they're coming?" Grinsa finally asked him, drawing E'Menua's gaze. "The other a'laqs you were expecting, I mean."
"I don't know," the man said, lowering his voice. "It may be that others suffered J'Sor's fate, but had no one to cure them. Or it may be that they're on their way and will be here in the next day or two. I hope to hear from P'Rhil or S'Bahn tonight. I want to know where they are and whether they've found the dark-eye army yet. It may be that we won't need other septs to finish the war. But we won't know until we hear from those who rode north."
They finished eating their meal, though Grinsa could have stopped far earlier and been sated. He was glad that they probably wouldn't have to battle the Eandi come morning, because with all that the men had eaten, he couldn't imagine any of them would be in much condition to fight. E'Menua rose and suggested that all of them get some sleep, and then he went off to do just that.
Grinsa thought about staying awake so that he could walk in Cresenne's dreams and speak with her, but he really had nothing to tell her, and he knew that contacting her in this way left her exhausted the following morning. He found his sleeping roll and blankets, laid them out on the cold ground, and was soon asleep.
He awoke early the next morning to grey skies and a light snow. After stowing his blankets and roll, he went in search of the a'laq, certain that E'Menua would have expected no less of him. He found the a'laq speaking with Q'Daer, L'Norr, and the other two sept leaders. E'Menua seemed in a darker mood than he had been in the night before and barely acknowledged Grinsa as the Forelander joined their small circle.