Poison Tree

jeraha’rahvis. Stand and take your place.”

Alysia stared, unbelieving.

Was it over?

“You don’t need that,” Christian said, touching the back of her hand that held the firestone knife.

“Thanks,” Sarik said as Jason helped her to her feet. Then she turned and lifted both of the boys up, the action obviously symbolic. To her father, she said, “You will return to the camps and let the queen know of the changes to the Kral clan?”

“Sana’kaen,” Kral answered, and turned sti y to leave, refusing to meet the gaze of any other member of Onyx.

After they all watched Kral slink out the door, Sarta cleared her throat, capturing everyone’s attention before she said, “There is still a matter to be addressed here.”

Onyx. The confrontation had narrowed down to Sarik, her father, and her tribe, but there was another world around them wanting to know how it would be changed by these events.

“With permission from the leadership,” Sarik said, nodding toward Sarta, “I would recommend an impromptu Challenge in, say, two weeks. I won’t compete. Neither will my father. Onyx needs new leadership.” She looked at Christian and then turned her gaze to

Alysia and asked softly, “What about you?”

Sarta also appeared interested in the answer, which wasn’t surprising, since Frost had been her guild for years before Alysia had joined.

“Frost needs new leadership as well. And new direction,” Alysia replied, looking up at

Sarta, who nodded her approval. Challenge wasn’t until next summer; she had time to get into shape before then. To Jason and Sarik, she added, “I’ll keep in touch.”

Alysia didn’t intend to police the morals of her members—most of them would go their own way, as they always had—but SingleEarth was the fastest-growing and most powerful organization in the modern world. It would be madness to let those contacts just drift away.

Besides, Alysia wasn’t quite ready to abandon SingleEarth completely. She had learned things there, about life and about herself.

“Then … we’ll see you around,” Jason said warmly, before turning his gaze to Christian to ask, “You and I, we aren’t going to have a problem, are we?”

“Only if you try to give her back,” Christian replied, earning an exhausted glare from

Sarik.

Alysia watched the exchange with amusement. Christian had known Kral’s carefully molded daughter, Sahara. Would he ever understand how much she had changed?

“Though, just for the record, you do know she shot you, right?” Christian said.

Sarik tensed, but Jason answered, “I figured that out, yes.”

Yet he didn’t take his hand from hers.

“Well, you two crazy kids have fun, then,” Christian said.

The group started to break apart, each going their own way. Once Sarik, Jason, Jeht, and Quean were gone, someone asked, “Who’s going to clean this up?”

Alysia turned toward Kevin, who was looking despondently at the blood-spattered oor as if it were the worst thing to ever happen to him.

“You asked first, so you get the prize,” she replied.

Christian started to ask, “What about—”

He stopped when Alysia’s phone buzzed. The text message read, welcome back, Boss

A number came up this time, at least, which meant she was able to reply, Not yet. you wil be

Ben? you have a cute obsession with names

It had to be Ben. The Frost operator, always an enigma, could pass as a geeky college frosh.

“Who is it?” Christian asked, impatiently watching her tap buttons on her phone.

“A friend,” she replied, “I hope.”

I’m planning to turn Frost upside down, she texted. If he wasn’t on her side, she was going to be in trouble.

She wanted to make Frost into a modern guild, to go beyond their reputation as brutal assassins. They could partner with SingleEarth, whose document and electronic departments needed the support, and who desperately needed a strong arm from time to time. It wouldn’t be a partnership popular with all members, but it would be pro table enough to overcome most reluctance, as long as Alysia had the important people on her side. i’m with you, Boss, Ben replied.

She shut the phone as Christian approached and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“It’s going to be crazy around here for a while,” he said. “Kral left Onyx a royal mess. Are you going to stick around to help?”

“I’ll be here,” she answered. “To help, or hinder, or make all the little Bruja mercs jump like grease on a hot griddle.”

“Business as usual, then?”

Chaos and crisis, with a side of piss-people-off and rebuild-the-world.

“Nah,” she said, considering, “this will be something completely new.”

EPILOGUE

WHAT NEXT? LYNZI wondered. Jason and Sarik had called to say they were on their way back, but Sarik had followed that comment up with a rapid explanation of how she was planning to create a new position for herself and might need to resign as mediator. She hadn’t included Jason in the statement, but Lynzi knew that where Sarik went, Jason would follow.

That left Lynzi once again in charge of Haven #4, as she had once been many years ago, when she had granted SingleEarth the right to use her territory as a Haven in the rst place.

She stared at the computer screen and started to write the advertisement for an open mediator position six times before she decided instead to email Joseph, the man who had resigned at the start of this whole strange fiasco.

Joseph, You resigned from Haven #4 due to philosophical objections—you said SingleEarth didn’t ful y understand or respect the needs of the nonwitch members of our organizations. Recent events have given me a new respect for your position. Would you be wil ing to meet me, to discuss your ideas? If you would be wil ing to try again, I think

Haven #4 could be influential in changing SingleEarth for the better. It’s your choice.

What next? Jeht wondered as he followed his queen back to the strange campground where he had been living for the last several days. He smiled to see the one called Mark waiting for them, looking relieved.

He tried to suppress the smile, which seemed like it might be weakness, but then couldn’t.

His queen spoke to Mark in their language before she sat heavily on the bench and pulled

Quean into her lap. Quean had fallen asleep in the car and was still sleepy-eyed.

“My tribal name is Kral,” she explained in her strangely musical accent. He understood every word she said in his language, but the avor of this place was even in the way she spoke. “We are not a large tribe, but we are respected enough that if you wish, we can visit the main camps, and we can probably nd another tribe that would be willing to take you in. It may take a few days to arrange that trip, so you have some time to decide.”

He nodded but did not yet speak, because he could tell she had more to say.

“You have another choice,” she said. “You can stay here, as part of my tribe. You have seen that the world here is … di erent than in the Mistari camps. It is not as violent, but it can be even more complicated. Staying here