'She has grass-eyes!'
'And sunset-hair!'
'Mata, how come she's riding a mule? She doesn't look old or sick!'
'Is she Sworn, too? Then why is she wearing dust-colors?' That from a tiny girl in blazing scarlet and bright blue.
'Is she staying?' 'Is she outClan?' 'Is she from the magic place?'
Tarma swung down off Kessira and took in the mob of children with a mock-stern expression. 'What is this clamor? Is this the behavior of Shin'a'in?'
The babble cut off abruptly, the children keeping complete silence.
'Better. Who will take my mare and my she'enedra's mule?'
One of the adolescents handed his reins to a friend and presented himself. 'I will, Sworn One.'
'My thanks,' she said, giving him a slight bow. He returned a deeper bow, and took both animals as soon as Kethry had dismounted.
'Now, will someone bring us to the Elders?'
'No need,' said a strong, vigorous voice from the rear of the crowd. 'The Elders are here.'
The gathering parted immediately to allow a collection of four Shin'a'in through. One was a woman of middle years, with a square (for a Shin'a'in) face, gray-threaded hair, and a look of determination about her. She wore bright harvest-gold breeches, soft, knee-high, fringed leather boots, a cream-colored shirt with embroidered sleeves, and a scarlet-andblack embroidered vest that laced closed in the front. By the headdress of two tiny antelope horns she wore, Kethry knew she was the Shaman of Liha'irden.
The second was a very old man, his face wrinkled so that his eyes twinkled from out of the depths of deep seams, his hair pure white. He wore blue felt boots, embroidered in green; dark blue breeches, a lighter blue shirt, and a bright green vest embroidered with a pattern to match the boots, but in blue. The purely ornamental riding crop he wore at his belt meant he was the Clan Chief. He was far from being feeble; he walked fully erect with never a hint of a limp or a stoop, and though his steps were slow, they were firm.
Third was a woman whose age lay somewhere between the Clan Chief and the Shaman. She wore scarlet; nothing but shades of red. That alone told Kethry that this was the woman in whose charge lay both the duties of warleader and of instructing the young in the use of arms.
Last was a young man in muted greens, who smiled widely on seeing Tarma. Kethry knew this one from Tarma's descriptions; he was Liha'irden's Healer and the fourth Elder.
'Either news travels on the wings of the birds, or you've had scouts out I didn't see,' Tarma said, giving them the greeting of respect.
'In part, it did travel with birds. The Hawkbrothers told us of your return,' the Healer said. 'They gave us time enough to bring together a Council.'
The crowd parted a second time to let five more people through, all elderly. Tarma raised one eyebrow in surprise.
'I had not expected to be met by a full Council,' she said, cautiously. 'And I find myself wondering if this is honor, or something else.'
'Kal'enedra, I wish you to know that this was nothing of my doing,' the Clan Chief of Liha'irden replied, his voice heavy with disapproval. 'Nor will my vote be cast against you.'
'Cast against me? Me? For why?' Tarma flushed, then blanched.
'Tale'sedrin is a dead Clan,' one of the other five answered her, an old woman with a stubborn set to her mouth. 'It only lacks a Council's pronouncement to make history what is already fact.'
'I still live! And while I live, Tale'sedrin lives!'
'A Clan is more than a single individual, it is a living, growing thing,' she replied, 'You are Kal'enedral; you are barren seed by vow and by the Warrior's touch. How can Tale'sedrin be alive in you, when you cannot give it life?'
'Kal'enedra, Tarma, we have no wish to take from you what is yours by right of inheritance,' the Warleader of Liha'irden said placatingly. 'The herds, the goods, they are still yours. But the Children of the Hawk are no more;
