Chapter Fifteen
Five days later, shortly after dawn, they rode into the camp of the Falcon Clan.
Liyana breathed in the stench of rotted meat. Three falcons tore apart a carcass in front of a tent. The birds didn’t budge when Liyana and the others rode past.
Unlike the birds, the people of the Falcon Clan did notice them. Drawn from their tasks and their tents, the men, women, and children of the Falcon Clan emerged to stare at Liyana and the others. Liyana blinked, surprised to find tears in her eyes, as a boy about Jidali’s age ran past them. He clutched a leather ball in his arms. A mother called to the boy with the ball, and he ran to her. He peeked out at them with frightened eyes. His clothes hung loosely on his body.
All the people had feathers in their hair and sewn into their clothes. Most of the men and women wore thick, leather wraps around their wrists, shielding against sharp talons. The birds themselves were everywhere, perched on the tents and on twisted branches that had been driven deep into the sand.
Korbyn dismounted first and called out a greeting. Liyana, Fennik, Pia, and Raan followed suit. Fennik loosened the saddles and curried away the worst of the sweat and sand. More people drew closer to stare at the new arrivals.
“I don’t like this,” Raan said softly.
Liyana tried to smile at the boy with the ball. His mother hid him behind her skirt. Liyana noticed that he was one of only a few children. Surely, the clan had others. “At least they aren’t pointing arrows at us.”
“Something’s wrong here,” Raan said.
“What do you mean?” Pia asked, her voice as high as a mouse’s squeak.
Korbyn pressed his lips into a thin line. “We must be certain before we leave.”
“But we just arrived!” Pia objected.
Liyana studied the faces around them. Their eyes were hostile, their cheeks sunken, and their shoulders hunched. She wondered what they were thinking, if they saw them as more mouths to feed.
“We must speak with your vessel!” Fennik called to them.
As if his words were a knife to flint, the men and women of the Falcon Clan burst into whispers. Several of them ran toward the center of camp—presumably to spread word of their arrival and their request. At the sudden activity, one falcon shrieked a cry. It fanned its wings, but it was tethered to its perch.
“We have at least piqued their curiosity,” Korbyn murmured.
Liyana patted Gray Luck’s neck. The mare shifted from hoof to hoof as if she could sense the unease that permeated the air. These people were clearly uncomfortable with strangers.
Shuffling through the crowd, a man approached them. He bowed low. “We would be honored if you would share tea with our chief and chieftess.”
“See, that did not sound hostile,” Pia said softly.
Raan snorted.
“I’ll stay with the horses,” Fennik volunteered.
“Wise idea,” Korbyn said, and Liyana saw Fennik’s eyes widen at this compliment. She realized this was the first time that Korbyn had ever complimented Fennik. Perhaps Korbyn had finally quit seeing Sendar in Fennik.
Under her breath Raan added, “You might want to keep them ready.”
Liyana checked Gray Luck’s bridle, and then she patted her again before handing the reins to Fennik. She joined Korbyn, Raan, and Pia, and followed their guide across the camp.
When they reached the chief and chieftess’s tent, their guide halted. Korbyn strode inside without pause. The vessels followed.
Inside the tent, three people were seated around the cooking fire—an ancient man with a necklace of bird skulls and a man and woman who wore feather headdresses and ornate multicolored robes. A silver kettle warmed over the fire. The man with the skulls fetched a tray of silver cups. He laid them on a carpet and then poured tea in each.
“Welcome to our clan,” the chieftess said. She was a soft-spoken woman with thick coils of black and gray hair wound tightly against her scalp. Her headdress consisted of three rows of falcon feathers that dangled over her cheeks. “Share the water of life with us, steeped in the food of health.” Ceremonially she raised a cup of tea to her lips and sipped.
Korbyn sat cross-legged in front of her. “We thank you for your hospitality and bring greetings from across the desert, as well as from the Dreaming.” He selected a cup and sipped the tea. Liyana watched the ancient man’s eyes widen at the mention of the Dreaming. She guessed that that was not part of this clan’s traditional greeting. “I am Korbyn, god of the Raven Clan. My companions are Liyana, vessel of Bayla of the Goat Clan; Pia, vessel of Oyri of the Silk Clan; and Raan, vessel of Maara of the Scorpion Clan. Our companion, Fennik, vessel of Sendar of the Horse Clan, tends to our mounts.”
The chieftess’s hands shook. She laid her teacup on the tray, and she folded her hands in her lap as if to disguise the way they trembled. Liyana noticed that the old man’s eyes had widened so much that he resembled a horse about to bolt.
“Why have you come to us?” the chief asked.
“Five of the desert deities have been stolen from the Dreaming,” Korbyn said. His voice was even, and his face was expressionless. Liyana had an urge to hold his hand as if he needed comforting. She stayed behind him and didn’t speak. “We seek to return them to their rightful clans. Your god, Somayo, was one of them, and so we have come to ask your vessel to join us.”
The chief rose to his feet. Without speaking, he left the tent. The man with the bird skull necklace covered his face with his hands. The chieftess blanched but did not move.
Liyana felt a sick knot form in the base of her stomach.
“How . . . how long ago was it?” Raan asked. Her voice was hushed.
The chieftess lowered her eyes and stared into the teacups. “Two nights ago.”
“We didn’t know.” The old man’s voice was low and husky. “I should have. . . .”
“I do not understand,” Pia said.
Raan laid her hands on Pia’s shoulders and hauled her back toward the tent flap. “We’ll explain outside, princess. Liyana, help here?”
“I’m not a princess,” Pia said. She dug her feet into the carpets and resisted. Liyana grabbed her other arm, and together she and Raan propelled Pia out of the tent. “Ow, ow, ow! But the vessel!”
Outside, Liyana whispered in her ear, “They killed him.”
Pia gasped.
“Keep your face calm,” Raan ordered in her other ear. “We need to get out of here before it occurs to these people to blame us.”
“But we didn’t—” Pia began.
“It’s what people do, princess,” Raan said. She plastered a smile on her face and waved at the people who had gathered around the tent. Liyana did the same. “Better get Korbyn before they decide that any god will suffice.”
Pia gasped again. “They wouldn’t!”
“Return to Fennik,” Liyana said. “If Korbyn and I aren’t with you in three minutes, ride the horses through camp past this tent.” Releasing Pia, she walked back inside.
Inside, the chieftess was openly crying. Korbyn held her hands, trying to comfort her. The old man looked as if he’d been punched in the gut. He huddled on a cushion, holding his knees to his chest and looking at the roof of the tent with wild eyes. Liyana wondered if he was the vessel’s magician—or if he had been his executioner.
Liyana took a deep breath, marched across the tent, and pried the chieftess’s fingers off of Korbyn’s hands. “My clan is in Yubay,” she told the chieftess. “I recommend you join them there. Together, you can pool your resources until we rescue the deities.” She wondered what Korbyn had been telling her and hoped she hadn’t contradicted it. She decided she didn’t care. With Korbyn, she backed out of the tent.
