Save her eyes. They were guarded, much more than normal. Not just wary. Afraid.
The shame and sting of it seared Tokela’s heart. But a tiny, venomous place in his Spirit found a fierce—and repellent—glee.
Inhya’s expression hardened, as if sensing it, and she tucked her chin, mouth set. “Aylaniś has taken both Madoc and Kuli for another hunt. It would be a prudent time to remove your things from the ahlóssa den.”
This was even more inconceivable. Tokela turned fully about, stammered, “Wh-what d-did you say?”
Inhya showed no exasperation at such obtuseness, merely repeated, “The little ones are with Aylaniś. You should remove your things now. It’ll be easier for everyone, particularly Madoc.”
“But… you…” His tongue kept proving itself traitor, stammering protest. “You were… What happened was—”
“What happened, Tokela?” Inhya seemed deep-rooted as a tree—though much less pliable, more insurmountable. Akin to the cliffs beneath their feet.
Tokela envied her. “In the Council den.” Carrion-eaters take him and shred his bones, why could he not shut it? “What happened with—”
She clucked, a dismissal, nothing less.
Still, he couldn’t let it go. “At the hearth! You saw. My arm. Fire.”
“What do you think I saw, Tokela a’Naišwyrh?” Her eyes wavered, ever so slight.
And finally—finally—his tongue stilled.
“Sarinak is waiting for you at the ahlóssa den,” Inhya continued, looking away. “You will do your duty, and he will do his: cleanse and smudge you as is proper, take you to your new place.” A pause, then, “You will not speak of any foolishness to him. You know what it means if you do. You will not approach Madoc with such things—or, indeed, with anything else.”
Tokela’s eyes slid upwards, thankfully hidden by his forelock, for he could only imagine what was in them. So. “This is how it will be, then?”
“Given the past few Suns, did you expect otherwise?” Her riposte was calm, eminently reasonable. “You are oških now, and he is ahlóssa. It’s unseemly for you to be with him so much.”
I won’t let you do this. You’ll be sorry.
Wind twisted about them, a sudden chill gust filling Tokela’s gaping mouth, tugging at his hair and whipping Inhya’s shawl nigh from her grasp. She backed a step, eyes wide, made as if to retreat. Paused, eyes narrowing into knife edges, her talk coming just as sharp.
“You’ll not have to be burdened here overlong. There’s been talk made of a hearth-place for you. And when my brother returns…” For the first time, Inhya seemed to diminish, uncertain. “Alekšu will return soon, and have cause to… to speak with you.”
“Alekšu.” It was wooden.
“A’io. You will listen, and he’ll aid you.”
“How will he aid me? I thought nothing hap—”
“You ask too many questions.” Again, a snap. “We’ll say nothing more to any of this at present. Mound-chieftain waits, and you—”
“What a climb!”
Breathless, the talk a’Naišwyrh had a peculiar accent. Both Inhya and Tokela turned to see a brightly clad, somewhat portly figure treading the topmost step.
“Your pardon!” Galenu exclaimed. “The climb up always takes me by surprise and I have to stop midway. I didn’t mean to startle anyone; I merely came to watch the wyrhcraft set off. Not unlike young Tokela here.” A smile flashed, fading as Galenu addressed Inhya. “I didn’t realise there was… council being held atop the overlook.”
Didn’t realise? Yet Galenu’s manner suggested otherwise, making Tokela wonder how much the elder had heard.
“No council thisnow, stone-chieftain,” Inhya returned, serene and formal. “You merely witness my son finishing his oških Journey. Sarinak awaits him. Come, Tokela.”
“If you please?” Galenu held up a hand, gave a charming smile. “I’ve talk to make to your son regarding Mordeleg’s offences—amongst other things—and I’ve had small chance so far to do so.” The smile turned to Tokela, kinder and less calculating. “Might we speak now, oških? You’ve been”—the smile turned sly—“well, a bit preoccupied these past few Suns.”
It ticced a return smile at Tokela’s lip.
Inhya found no similar mirth in Galenu’s talk, but remained silent. Comprehension struck Tokela; his right now, not hers, to agree to Galenu’s request. He was oških.
“My mother, I will come to Sarinak immediately after this.”
Inhya’s face darkened, but she gave way with some grace. “Not overlong. He waits, with other duties before him.”
Galenu watched her descend the stair. Tokela eyed him, somewhat wary now they’d come to it. What did Galenu want?
Neither did he look at Tokela, but everywhere else—Forest’s surround, the driftwood railings, the rocks, River. For someone who wanted talk, Galenu lingered remarkably silent. Tokela shifted from one foot to the other, put his own face to River, found calm there.
He could outwait this. He could wait forever.
“Are you comfortable enough with making midLands talk?” Galenu finally asked in that dialect.
Tokela tilted his chin in the affirmative.
Again, a pause. Then, “You’re not very happy living here, are you?”
It was the last question Tokela had expected. For a half heartbeat he was unsure he’d heard correctly. But there was no mistake—in talk or the humiliation it rendered. Could everyone see this? Was it written so plain on his face?
Tokela took rabid hold of himself, forced his voice light. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Galenu fell quiet again. Tokela usually found security in silence; often friend, sometimes a comfortable weapon. Yet he barely lasted two fours of his own heart’s beating. Tokela knew, because he counted.
“I am with my mother’s family, Galenu a’Hassun. I’m grateful they—”
“Gratitude can be very discomfiting. On both sides.”
Tokela had no idea of how to answer this.
“You were ill-treated by a member of my tribe,” Galenu continued. “I can only excuse his behaviour in that he feels threatened by you.”
“Threatened? By me?”
“Mordeleg thinks you’re more closely related to me than he is. He’s right, of course.”
“I don’t understand.”
Galenu frowned, then shrugged. “Of course, you wouldn’t. In midLands, our moiety is hereditary, through many and varied Hoops of powerful leaders. Here in duskLands the chieftains are ones who can speak the most persuasively, trade effectively and hold back the outLanders; a’Šaákfo the way of leading is matriarchal, held by wit and horse-wealth
