“Wait!” Inhya called after him. “Tokela!”
“Ai, leave him.” Sarinak growled, intemperate. “He’ll come back; he always does. What was he thinking?”
“Did you really have to do that?” It was the first thing that came to Našobok’s lips.
Sarinak turned to him, frowning, examining him as if he were some new species of prey. That he gave an answer was as surprising as the answer itself was not.
“Did I have to remove an outlier from openly consorting with my tribe? You, of all, should know the answer.”
As things went, it was better than puffing up and refusing any talk, which no doubt Sarinak would have done in front of others. Ai, but what a tangled and perverse game two once-brothers had come to play. Našobok was owed some obligation for saving their sire’s life three winterings ago—the same sire who, as Mound-chieftain, had made Našobok outcast. It was its own little Dance, truly, and one Našobok usually had few inclinations to join.
He should have left it there, walked away. But he didn’t.
“You know what I mean. Did you really have to humiliate Tokela so?”
“I let you finish Dance with him, Našobok. I did so for Tokela. To expect more is expecting too much. Whatever humiliation he faced, it was of his own making.”
“Sarinak—
“I am Mound-chieftain to you, outlier.”
It shouldn’t have stung, but it did.
“My eldest son chose a wrong path. He has done, more and more. Should there be no consequence?”
Inhya said nothing, watching the two of them. Našobok wasn’t sure he liked the canny gleam in her eyes, but shook it off. Argued, “The wrong path for whom? What of Tokela’s rights to choose?”
“He has that right, a’io. He does not have the right to throw our ways in our faces. Of course, that’s something I don’t expect you to understand.”
Našobok clenched his teeth.
“He shouldn’t have asked you to Dance at all.”
“But Anahli joining Spear Dance is just fine.”
“She is paying the consequence of her actions.”
“And the midLands oških nearly goring Tokela with his own spear? Is that also to have consequences?”
“I removed him, you may have noticed.” Sarinak tilted his chin down, dangerous-quiet. “Perhaps such things happen when we allow outliers to sit in honoured places.”
Našobok didn’t care; his thoughts were on another course. “And where is the midLander now?”
“Why does it matter to you?”
“I merely thought it should matter to you.”
Sarinak rolled his eyes. “I’ve no more time for your talk.”
“You astonish me.”
“I don’t know why,” Sarinak growled. “I have nothing more to say to this. Come, my spouse.”
“I shall. Presently.” Inhya was still eyeing Našobok. He slid his gaze to her, eyed her right back.
With an irritated grunt, Sarinak marched away.
Našobok watched Inhya watch him for several heartbeats, then turned aside. The smartest action to take at this point was to let the entire thing slide off his back. Go back to Ilhukaia, tend his own business even as Sarinak was.
If only he didn’t keep remembering the disappointment on Tokela’s face.
If only he could forget the thwarted fury of the Bear oških.
If only he didn’t keep remembering the inherent promise in Spear Dance.
Našobok was not one to lightly forsake a promise. Particularly since it had been taken from him with such quiet mystery.
“Našobok.”
He halted, slid a curious glance towards Inhya. She rarely spoke to him if she could help it, but using his name?
“Don’t go after Tokela.”
Ai, and she was too canny by halves. Pity she hadn’t used half that intellect with the oških she’d hearthed. Eyes narrowing, Našobok peered at her.
“Show you have some remaining sense. Don’t let this thing go any further.”
“What ‘thing’,” Našobok ventured, “is that?”
He’d seen softer eyes behind a drawn bow. “Don’t play games with this, wyrhling. You know of what I speak.”
Našobok crossed his arms, considered her.
“The indigo on Tokela’s cheeks was not there upon thisSun’s rising. He put it there himself.”
Despite himself, a guffaw escaped. “Is that so? Then I’d say he’s made quite a statement, hearth-chieftain.”
“He made even more of one by asking a wyrhling to Dance!” she shot back.
“Sink me… I’m his cousin, Inhya. He has every right to ask an elder cousin to be his playm—”
“By your own choice, you are not.”
“I never chose to disregard my blood.”
“Oh, but you did, wyrhling. You walked away without a qualm.”
“You know nothing of my heart, then or now.”
“Without a qualm,” Inhya snarled between her teeth. “I was there. You were weak. You let River take your Spirit, refused any help, even when Chogah offered to take it from you.”
“I’d sooner have handed that n’batuweh a dagger and bared my chest.”
“She was Alekšu, she could have purged the weakness from your heart. You let it take you! You turned your back on your Clan, on your sire’s hopes, your brother’s love. You pulled your dam’s heart from her breast and threw it at her feet.”
Upper lip curling in a snarl, Našobok took a step forwards, looming over Inhya with fists clenched.
She didn’t back down; in fact leaned towards him, her own fists clenching. “Do it, then. Prove me right. Show everyone how being Riverwalker means respecting nothing.”
“You have no concept of what Riverwalkers respect.” It was too quiet. Dangerous. “I’m not the one who swims a tainted pool, sister.” The endearment curled on his tongue, became affront. “I thought I was beneath even your notice.”
She didn’t miss a beat, bared her teeth. “You’re not only beneath my notice, but Tokela’s. You’ve already pulled my brother into your ‘tainted pool’. You will not drag my son as well.”
“And how is it,” Našobok marveled, “that you are comfortable being Alekšu’s sister?”
“As Alekšu, he’s made sacred use of what abomination threatened to take him! He didn’t submit—though I’m sure you would have him do so!”
“Your mouth sprouts ignorance like flies from a carcass.”
“I’m ignorant? You besmirch ways which have kept our People vital and safe for generations!”
“And like anything else walking our Grandmother, there is a
