Angus Wells - Exiles 01 - Exile's Children

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EXILE’ S CHILDREN

Angus Wells

A Bantam Spectra Book

Library of Congress Card Catalog Number: 95-17735.

ISBN 0-553-29903-4 Published simultaneously in the Umted States and Canada

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

For Anne Lesley Groell

and Jamie Warren Youll,

With special thanks to Stephen Youll.

The Meeting Ground

When Morrhyn came out of the Dream Lodge the first thing he saw was a heron chased across the sky by

three hurrying crows. The ungainly fisherbird swooped and dove, its wide wings beating heavily, but the

crows were relentless in their pursuit, and as the heron reached the stand of hemlock flanking the Meeting

Ground, it squawked a protest and gave up its catch to the robbers. Morrhyn wondered if this was an

omen, and if any of the other wakanishas attending the Matakwa had observed the drama. He would

mention it later, he decided, and perhaps they would discuss its meaning; meanwhile, he had much else

to occupy his mind.

After the heat of the lodge, the early morning air struck chill on his sweated skin and he shrugged his

bearskin closer about his shoulders. The year was young yet, the New Grass Moon barely full, but the sky

promised benevolence, and when he turned to make obeisance to the Maker’ s Mountain, he saw the

great peak shining brilliant in the rising sun. Perhaps that, too, was an omen; perhaps the Maker sent a

sign to balance the other. Morrhyn was unsure: lately, his dreams had left him turbulent with uncertainty.

He felt some dreadful threat approached the People, but what its nature or when it should arrive remained

mysterious. This past night, as before, he had dreamed of strange creatures all clad in shining metal, and

mounted on such beasts as defied imagining, and knew their purpose was evil. At their head rode a figure

whose armor shone sun-bright, and whose mount was huge and black with wickedly curling horns and

eyes that blazed fiery. No such folk, or such weirdling beasts, existed in all Ket-Ta-Witko, and he feared

the meaning of the dream, and prayed earnestly that it not be realized. When it came his turn to speak in

the Dream Council, he would tell all this to his fellow wakanishas and seek their advice. Perhaps others

had shared the dream: he could not decide if he hoped for that confirmation of his oneiric power or

dreaded its corroboration.

Sighing, he made his way through the sleeping lodges to the stream that crossed the Meeting Ground and

stooped to lave his face and chest. Farther down the brook he saw Rannach watering his prized stallion,

laughing with several of the other unmarried warriors. The young man stood bare-chested in the cold, and

for a moment Morrhyn envied him his youth and the overweening confidence it brought. He had never

enjoyed such confidence, but then, he had come early to his calling, recognized as a Dreamer and

claimed by old Gahyth before he had opportunity to ride out after the wild plains horses or go alone

against the bear or the lion to earn the right of the warrior’ s braids. He was wakanisha: his hair hung

loose; Rannach’ s was tied in the braids these seven winters now.

And now the young man prepared to choose a bride. There were maidens enough amongst the lodges of

the Commacht who looked favorably on him, and their parents would welcome his bride-visit. Morrhyn

wished he would choose one of them; it should be so much simpler. But Rannach had eyes only for

Arrhyna, as if his first sight of the Tachyn girl had hooked his heart and bound it firm. Had Morrhyn not

known better, he might have wondered if the maiden had entranced Rannach, delivered him some love

potion that enslaved him with ropes of blind desire; but from Matakwas past he knew her for a modest girl,

seemingly unconscious of her beauty. He did not believe she had worked some magic on Rannach but

only been herself, and Rannach had fallen honestly— and totally— in love with her. Which, of course, was

the strongest magic of all, and in the circumstances perhaps the worst.

Morrhyn grunted as he straightened, absently cursing the years that tolled their count in the stiffening of

his limbs, and nodded greeting as Rannach smiled and waved, hoping his silence should indicate to the

warrior his aversion to conversation. He had no desire at that moment to speak with the young man: he

knew where the conversation must go, what he would say and what Rannach would reply, and that it must

leave him further troubled. He needed to think, to ponder his dream and the days to come, to determine

what part Rannach and Arrhyna might play in the future of the Commacht; indeed, in the future of all the

People.

It would all, he thought as he burrowed deeper into his robe and turned from the stream, be so much

easier if Vachyr did not court the girl: if Vachyr were not Chakthi’ s son, or Chakthi so intransigent. But

these things were immutable as the Maker’ s Mountain. Intermarriage amongst the clans was not unusual,

and if Rannach paid court to any other Tachyn maiden, likely Chakthi could find no cause for objection.

The Maker knew the Tachyn akaman held little enough love for the Commacht, but he would likely not

argue Rannach’ s pursuit of some maiden other than Arrhyna, only urge the parents set an exorbitant

bride-price. That his only child pursued the same maiden changed everything: Chakthi would bring all his

influence as akaman to bear, seeking to deliver Vachyr whatever— or, in this case, whoever— the warrior

desired. Chakthi’ s love of his son was blind and, since his widowing, untempered by feminine influence.

Nor did Morrhyn believe Hadduth likely to do other than second his akaman, even though it was the

wakanisha’ s duty to consider the greater good, the welfare of all the People. Hadduth, he could not help

thinking, was a cringing dog to Chakthi’ s wolf: when Chakthi howled, Hadduth barked his support. It

needed no dreaming to prophesy this looming future. Rannach was headstrong in his pride, and should

Vachyr contest with him, should it come to a challenge…

That, Morrhyn thought, he had rather not consider. Save he must, for he was wakanisha of the Commacht

and his burden was the contemplation of fate’ s weaving. It was a burden he accepted, delivered when

Gahyth saw him for a Dreamer, but it brought him little pleasure. Its weight sat heavy; nor was it shared,

for amongst the young men of the Commacht he could discern none with the talent. He was not yet so old

he need worry about that absence, but the time must surely come when he need teach another the art. He

thought that then he must perhaps turn to another clan, to persuade some likely candidate to take the

oaths and vow fealty to the Commacht. And did it come to that, he would not look for his successor

amongst the Tachyn.

A voice intruded then on his musings, and he saw that he had come absentminded amongst the lodges.

Lhyn called to him from the mouth of Racharran’ s tent and he smiled at sight of her, old memories, old

longings, stirring ruefully. Gray strands wove through her hair now, but they seemed only to make the gold

glow brighter, as if silver joined the molten flow; and were there lines upon her face, they served only to

emphasize her beauty. Once, perhaps… But Morrhyn shoved the thought away. Lhyn had made her

choice and he would not argue it; had not then, when he saw her eyes grow moist as she denied him and

told him she went to Racharran, and could not now, when he saw her happy. He raised a hand and went

toward her, still not quite able to stem the swift thudding of his heart. Perhaps, he thought, I am not so old

after all.

“ I’ ve pan bread readying,” she told him, “ and Racharran brought home a deer. Shall you eat with us?”

She held the lodge flap open as she spoke, knowing he would not demur.

Morrhyn beamed as the smells wafted tempting to his nose and said as he entered the lodge, “ Our

akaman is, indeed, a great hunter of deer.”

“ As our wakanisha is of dreams,” Racharran answered, chuckling from across the lodge fire. “ Sit, my

friend, and fill your belly.”

Morrhyn thought of the meager breakfast set by in his own lodge: this should surely be better, and give

him chance to speak with the akaman of his dream and doubts. He sat, shucking off his bearskin, savoring

the odors as Lhyn took the pan bread from the flames.

They ate, as was custom, in silence, speaking only when all were done and Lhyn filled cups of Grannach

manufacture with sweet herb tea.

“ I saw Rannach,” Morrhyn began. “ He’ s of the same mind?”

Racharran nodded, his handsome face darkening somewhat. “ My son is obstinate,” he murmured. “ This

day he intends to go to Arrhyna; tomorrow Bakaan will make formal approach.”

“ The Maker grant Vachyr not be there,” Morrhyn said.

“ Surely not even Vachyr would sully the Meeting Ground.” Lhyn made a sign of warding as she spoke.

Her husband grunted, shrugging, “ Vachyr’ s a temper fierce as our son’ s pride,” he declared. “ I wonder if

there’ s much to choose between them.”

Lhyn gave him a disapproving frown. “ I’ d not liken our son to Chakthi’ s,” she said. “ Rannach is— ”

“ Obstinate,” Racharran interrupted.

“ His father’ s son,” said Lhyn.

“ Perhaps.” Racharran spread his hands wide. “ But he’ ll not listen to me in this, and his choice could not

be worse.”

“ He loves her,” Lhyn said, “ and she him. Would you argue that?”

“ Not that they share a passion,” Racharran said. “ Only that it’ s a passion such as can deliver us to war.”

He turned to Morrhyn. “ How say you, wakanisha?”

Morrhyn wiped deer fat from his chin and pondered awhile. Then: “ I see both sides, I think. I’ d wish the

Maker had guided Rannach’ s eyes elsewhere, but they fell on Arrhyna and they’ ll not be shifted. We

cannot forbid the marriage; neither can Chakthi. What comes of it… ”

The akaman said, “ Trouble. Were it in my power, I’ d forbid it.”

“ And make an enemy of our son,” said Lhyn. “ He’ d take Arrhyna and go away.”

“ Yes.” Racharran ducked his head in unhappy acceptance. “ And so, instead, we make Chakthi our

enemy. Come summer, our folk must ride careful on the grass— the gift of Rannach’ s desire.”

“ But you’ ll support him.” Lhyn said. “ Does Chakthi take it before the Council?”

“ Of course.” Racharran’ s smile was sour with resignation. “ He’ s my son. I’ ve spoken with him, and my

words ran like water off stone. He knows my feelings— and Morrhyn’ s— and he’ ll not be diverted. But I

shall support him in Council.”

Lhyn smiled and filled their cups. Morrhyn said, “ I dreamed again.”

Racharran said, “ The same?” And when the wakanisha nodded his confirmation: “ Aught of Rannach?”

Morrhyn said, “ No; and that troubles me. It’ s as if this dream is so great, it drives all others out. It burns

through my nights like a prairie fire.” He shuddered despite the lodge’ s warmth. “ It frightens me.”

Racharran studied his old friend, reading concern like spoor on the weathered face. That disturbed him,

and when he spoke, his voice was soft. “ Can you put a meaning on it?”

“ No.” Morrhyn shrugged a negative. “ Save danger threatens, and a danger far greater than Chakthi

alone. Ach!” He sighed and shook his head. “ I am not a very good Dreamer, that I cannot interpret this.”

Racharran said, “ You are the best,” echoed by Lhyn.

Morrhyn favored them with a smile. “ Thank you for your faith,” he murmured, “ but it troubles me that I

sense this yet cannot discern its import.” Conscious that he slumped, he straightened his back, forcing a

more confident tone. “ I shall speak of it in the Dream Council. Perhaps others have known this dream.”

Racharran nodded: these were matters for the Dreamers, not yet of immediate concern to the akamans.

Was Morrhyn’ s dream shared, could the wakanishas of all the clans gathered for the Matakwa put a

meaning to it, then it would become a thing for the Chiefs’ Council. Until then he had worry enough

contemplating Rannach’ s suit.

He anticipated a summer of war, and could not help the kindled anger that it was Rannach lit the flame. In

the name of the Maker, why could the youth not see reason? Arrhyna was a prize, but there were others

aplenty, and did Rannach only set the good of the clan before his own desire, then he would forsake the

girl and find some other whose taking was less likely to bring the Tachyn raiding. Rannach was not,

Racharran thought sadly, the stuff of which akamans were made.

“ You think of Rannach?”

Lhyn’ s soft voice intruded on his dark contemplation, and he answered her with a silent nod. She sighed

and looked to Morrhyn.

The wakanisha said, “ The stallion roped, you’ d best not let go.”

Racharran grunted irritably. “ This stallion is likely to trample us.”

“ But still,” Morrhyn returned, “ the rope is on and we must make the best of it.”

“ Did you offer Chakthi compensation?” Lhyn suggested.

Her husband snorted. “ For a bride whose price is already paid? I’ ve some pride yet.” His aquiline

features softened and he touched his wife’ s hand. “ Besides, I suspect Chakthi would see that only as

added insult.”

“ There’ s no easy answer,” Morrhyn offered. “ Save pray the Maker gentles Chakthi’ s temper.”

“ And Vachyr’ s,” Racharran said.

When Morrhyn quit their lodge, the great encampment was awake. His conversation had delivered no

enlightenment, and he felt still no desire to converse with any others, so he drew up his robe to cowl his

head and walked away from the lodges to where the toes of the Maker’ s Mountain rested on the earth.

The stone shone silvery in the risen sun, aged as time and furrowed with cracks like the skin of an ancient.

Higher, the slopes rose steep, lofting above the Meeting Ground as they climbed to shape the flanks of the

great peak. That stood smooth, carved by wind and untold years, a pinnacle that stabbed the clouds, the

pillar holding up the heavens: the Gate through which the People had come to Ket-Ta-Witko. Perhaps up

there, closer to the Maker’ s weaving, he might find answers.

He set to climbing, the ascent soon warming him enough that he shed the bearskin, leaving it where a

clump of thorn bushes jutted spiny from the rock. He clambered up until he reached a shelf that

overlooked the Meeting Ground and squatted there, surveying the lodges of the gathered clans.

Once each year, always in the New Grass Moon, they came to this place in Matakwa. Here they offered to

the Maker, giving thanks for bounty past and prayer for bounty to come. Here disputes were settled, and

marriages made. What could not be resolved by the akamans and wakanishas of the individual clans was

settled by the Chiefs’ Council, and the will of the Council was final. Here the wakanishas met in Dream

Council, speaking of their visions, seeking the advice of their fellow Dreamers, initiating novices. Here the

People met with the Grannach, the Stone Folk, who lived inside the hills and came out to trade their

metalwork for skins and beadwork and bone carvings. The Matakwa was a celebration both secular and

holy, bound by one overriding commandment: that no blood be spilled. Morrhyn prayed earnestly that it

continue so. He could not say how, but he felt that was connected in some fashion to his dream— that no

blood sully the Meeting Ground, lest it bring on the burning horses of his vision with their dreadful riders.

He chanted his prayer and heard the words carried away on the wind that blew up. He hoped the wind

carried them to the Maker’ s ears.

Then, seeking calm, he studied the camp.

The lesser limbs of the Maker’ s Mountain curved horn-shaped about the great verdant bowl, fending the

wind. There was grass for all the horses and sufficient timber to augment the dung fires with ample wood.

The stream that wandered across the bowl turned and twisted serpentine, so that none need pitch their

lodges far from water. It was as fine a place as any in Ket-Ta-Witko, and surely the only place where all

the clans might gather.

The lodges spread colorful below him, painted with the emblems of the five clans and those personal to

the occupants. The horse head of the Commacht stood proud across the brook from the Tachyn buffalo;

he saw the wolf of the Aparhaso and the turtle of the Naiche, the eagle of the Lakanti. Past the lodges the

herds cropped the grass, watched by the older children, the younger scurrying agile and loud between the

tents, their games joined by barking dogs. Streamers of smoke rose blue from the cookfires, swirled and

lost where they met the wind. Folk wandered the avenues between the tents, pausing to hail friends,

renew old acquaintances. Toward the center, warriors displayed horses for barter, women the blankets

woven through the long moons of Breaking Trees and Frozen Grass. It was a sight that always stirred

Morrhyn’ s heart, of which he never tired. He hoped that when the Maker took him back, it might be here,

where his bones could forever lie close to this wondrous symbol of unity.

He knew he smiled as he watched it all; and then his smile froze at the sight of Rannach splashing

through the brook.

The warrior was dressed in his finest, no longer bare-chested but wearing a shirt of pale buckskin, bead-

woven and painted with the horse head. His breeches were of the same hide, dyed blue and fringed in red

and white, and his dark hair gleamed from recent washing. Over his left shoulder he carried a blanket. He

went directly toward the lodge of Nemeth and Zeil, Arrhyna’ s parents. At least, Morrhyn thought, he bears

no weapons; and then: he gave Racharran his word.

Even so, the wakanisha could not entirely quell his presentiment and looked past the young warrior to

Vachyr’ s tent, pitched beside his father’ s. He let out his relief in a long sigh as neither Tachyn appeared.

Still, his heart beat fast as he returned his gaze to Rannach, for he knew the absence of Arrhyna’ s other

suitor was no more than temporary respite, the quiet preceding impending storm. What shape that storm

should take he knew not, only that it surely came on.

“ You who made us all,” he said, unaware he spoke aloud, “ grant this goes smooth.”

Then he held his breath, as if he stood close by Rannach’ s shoulder and not far off and high, as the

young man halted before the lodge. The flap stood open and Nemeth came out, speaking awhile with

Rannach before turning to call inside. Arrhyna appeared, and on the instant Morrhyn saw she had awaited

this visit: her hair shone a fiery red, falling loose over her shoulders, and she wore a gown of deerskin

worked so soft it was almost white. Morrhyn imagined she had spent the winter moons shaping that

garment, in anticipation of this moment.

Rannach spoke and the maiden smiled, demurely lowering her head as she stepped toward him. He

shrugged the blanket from his shoulder, raising his arm so that it fell in a swoop of red, blue, and white.

Arrhyna stepped into its folds and Rannach settled his arm around her, lifting the blanket to hood them

both. Then, moving as one, they walked away, first amongst the lodges of the Tachyn, then over the

stream to wander the lines of the Commacht.

Morrhyn drew his eyes away: the declaration was made, now only formalities remained. Formalities and

Vachyr’ s response, and Chakthi’ s. The wakanisha craned his head around, staring up at the Maker’ s

Mountain. He sensed his dream thundering closer, but the pinnacle offered him no sign of what

approached, and after a while he rose and began the descent.

It was time to face the future.

Ceremonies of the Horsemen

“ Three hands of horses were offered.” Chakthi flung out his fingers in emphasis. “ Prime stock, every

one.”

“ No doubt, for the blood of the Tachyn herds is the envy of us all.” Juh of the Aparhaso spoke mildly, his

tone a gentle contrast to Chakthi’ s venom. Racharran smiled faintly: the old man was ever a keeper of the

peace. “ But still the decision rests with the girl.”

Chakthi’ s hand sliced air, dismissive.

“ Who chooses Rannach,” said Yazte of the Lakanti. “ Whose bride-offer was accepted by Nemeth.”

Beyond this inner circle of akamans and wakanishas, Racharran heard a nervous shifting and guessed

that was likely Nemeth. The man had courage, he thought, to defy the Tachyn leader. He wondered if

Nemeth and Zeil might not soon come seeking the shelter of the Commacht lodges: it was theirs for the

asking.

“ Rannach offered only ten.” Chakthi pressed his point, his lupine features painted sharper in the firelight.

His pale eyes flashed a challenge. “ Ten against Vachyr’ s fifteen. How can that be right?”

“ Our women are not beasts, my friend.” Juh frowned, his wrinkles spreading like sun-cracks over the

ancient clay of his face, but still his tone was mild. “ They are not bought and sold like horses. Arrhyna has

a say in this.”

“ And tells Rannach yes.” Yazte spoke with studied calm, only the barest hint of contempt in his voice.

Does this all come to war, we’ ve an ally there, Racharran thought. Yazte’ s no more liking for Chakthi

than I. He turned his attention to the others, wondering where their allegiances would lie. Juh, he thought,

would seek to hold his Aparhaso aloof from any conflict. He looked to Tahdase of the Naiche but the

young man’ s face was veiled, as if he’ d not yet cast his stone. Racharran could not blame him: Tahdase

was not long akaman of his clan— this was his first Matakwa as leader— and, sensibly, he sought no

enmities. Even so, Racharran thought, Chakthi forces this to a vote, and then Tahdase must make his

choice.

He returned his eyes to the Tachyn akaman as Chakthi spoke again. “ I do not say our women are

beasts.” Chakthi attempted a placatory smile: it seemed to Racharran like the grin of a wolverine. “ Only

that any sensible father, any sensible maiden, must surely choose the better price. Indeed, the better

man.”

Racharran had promised himself he would play the diplomat in this Council, not invoke Chakthi’ s anger,

but this was too calculated an insult to ignore with honor. He raised a hand and said, “ You say that

Vachyr is the better man?”

Morrhyn’ s elbow dug hard against his ribs, but he ignored the wakanisha as he faced Chakthi. The

Tachyn smiled stonily and ducked his head. “ Vachyr is Tachyn: yes, he is the better man.”

Racharran stiffened even as Morrhyn’ s hand clasped his wrist. None bore arms in Council, but had

Racharran worn a blade then… “ Careful.” Morrhyn’ s voice was a breeze against his ear. “ He rants; he

seeks to provoke you. Do not rise to his bait.”

It was not easy. Yazte stared at Chakthi as he might at some night crawler found in his bedding. Old Juh

frowned in open disapproval. Even careful Tahdase looked shocked. At their sides, the wakanishas of

their clans scowled. Racharran reined in his anger, forcing back the challenge that sprang to his lips.

Carefully; measuring his words, he said, “ Your opinion is your own to hold, brother. As is mine.”

A shadow crossed the Tachyn’ s face, anger and disappointment flashing an instant in his eyes. In the

name of the Maker, Racharran wondered, does he truly look to begin a fight here, now?

“ We are the Council of the People.” Juh’ s voice was no longer so gentle; now it was edged with the steel

that made him akaman. “ It is unseemly that we trade insults here, in Matakwa.”

Yazte grunted agreement; Tahdase nodded as solemnly as his youth allowed.

Chakthi stared fiercely around for a while, then Hadduth spoke softly in his ear and he lowered his head. “

My brother Racharran speaks the truth. Our opinions are our own to hold. I intended no insult to the

Matakwa.”

It did not sound like an apology, but under the pressure of Morrhyn’ s fingers, Racharran nodded his

acceptance.

“ So, then, do we return to this matter of Arrhyna?” Juh sounded relieved.

“ What’ s to discuss?” Yazte smiled with deliberate calm. “ An offer has been made, an offer rejected; the

maiden has chosen. What else is there?”

Chakthi’ s teeth ground behind his thin-pressed lips and the eyes he turned on the Lakanti were cold as

winter ice. “ As akaman of the Tachyn, I object to her choice.” His voice was no warmer than his gaze. “

As akaman of the Tachyn, I ask that the Council decide this matter for her.”

This was without precedent, but it was no more than Racharran had expected. Times were, a maiden

could not decide between two suitors or her parents might object to her choice, then the matter could be

decided in Chiefs’ Council, all concerned presenting their views and the Council’ s decision final. In this

case there was nothing for the Council to decide: Arrhyna had chosen, her parents did not object. Chakthi

pushed too far— as Racharran had feared— solely on behalf of his son. He looked past the Tachyn

akaman to where Vachyr sat amongst the warriors. The young man was glaring across the Council fire—

at Rannach, Racharran guessed.

“ Does my brother Racharran object to this?” asked Juh.

Racharran shook his head even as Yazte murmured, “ You need not do this, brother. This is a farce.”

He flashed the Lakanti a smile and made a small, quieting gesture. It was a farce: he had no doubt of the

immediate outcome, for all he might wish Arrhyna would stand up and renege her promise to Rannach,

declare her mind changed, and go to Vachyr. The future should be easier that way. But still— he could not

help the small flame of malice— it should be good to see Chakthi humbled.

Ceremoniously, he rose to his feet, blanket cradled, and said, “ I have no objection. Let those concerned

be heard.”

Old Juh nodded. Yazte scowled dark at Chakthi. Tahdase looked nervous. The ancient Aparhaso chief

raised a hand. “ Then I summon them,” he intoned. “ Let the maiden and her parents step forward and be

heard. Let the warriors step forward and hear our judgment.”

The protagonists moved through the crowd encircling the Council. Vachyr and Rannach trod proudly,

glowering at each other like young buffalo bulls in rut. Arrhyna came with downcast eyes, nervous as a

deer, Nemeth and Zeil close behind and no more confident. The crowd fell silent.

Juh said, “ Let the maiden Arrhyna speak,” and smiled encouragingly. “ Child, you are much honored—

two brave warriors ask your hand and offer many horses. Which would you have?”

For a moment, Arrhyna’ s hair curtained her face, red as the fire’ s glow. She spoke from behind its veil,

too soft she might be heard. Yazte said, “ Child, do you speak up? You’ ve naught to fear; none shall harm

you here, nor say you nay.”

Arrhyna raised her head at that, green eyes wide as they fixed on Rannach. “ My choice is Rannach,” she

said.

Vachyr’ s scowl darkened, the corners of his angry mouth downturned. Rannach beamed. Juh said, “ Now

we hear the parents.”

Zeil glanced at Chakthi, clearly loath to earn the akaman’ s further disfavor. Juh motioned that he speak,

and the man touched his wife’ s hand. With his eyes fixed on the ground he said, “ Vachyr’ s bride-offer is

generous, but my daughter has made known her choice and I cannot deny her.”

“ You name Rannach your choice?” Juh asked.

Zeil swallowed and said quietly, “ I do.”

“ And there is agreement with your wife in this?”

Zeil nodded. Nemeth said, “ There is. I would abide by my daughter’ s choice. I name Rannach.”

Racharran heard Chakthi’ s furious grunt, saw the tightening of Vachyr’ s jaw. No good at all, he thought.

This shall be a troubled summer. But even so… He could not deny that the Tachyns’ discomposure

afforded him a degree of pleasure.

“ Then it is agreed by all who have a choice in this,” Juh said. “ How speak my brothers?”

Yazte said, “ It is agreed,” beaming at Vachyr.

Slower and softer Tahdase said, “ It is agreed.”

Chakthi snarled and shook his head. “ I say no!”

Juh turned to Racharran. For an instant the Commacht thought he might shock them all by siding with

Chakthi, but that should only make an enemy of his son, and likely drive him away. Then those

headstrong warriors who followed Rannach would go with him and the clan be weakened. Nor, was he

honest with himself, could Racharran perform so dramatic a turnabout: it would be a diminishment of his

honor. Loud, he said, “ It is agreed.”

Juh climbed stiffly to his feet, his arms raised as he turned slowly around the circle. “ Then let all present

know it is decided.” His voice was pitched to carry to the outermost ring. “ The maiden Arrhyna shall wed

the warrior Rannach with the blessing of this Council. Let none argue this, nor speak against it.”

Chakthi did not speak against the decision— could not— but instead sprang upright with a furious snort

and stalked from the circle, Hadduth trailing his heels. Vachyr hesitated a moment, glaring first at Arrhyna

then at Rannach before following his father.

Into Racharran’ s ear Morrhyn said, “ Chakthi cannot argue this.”

“ No?” answered Racharran.

Morrhyn said, still soft, “ To argue this is to go against the Council. He would be cast out; no less Vachyr.”

Racharran grunted, then looked to his son, who came past the fire with his bride-to-be. Rannach’ s smile

was wide and proud; Arrhyna stood modestly beside him.

Racharran climbed to his feet and took the girl’ s hands. “ I welcome you to the Commacht, daughter.” He

glanced at Rannach. “ Perhaps you’ ll tame this stallion.”

Arrhyna smiled shyly. “ Thank you, my akaman. I am honored to live amongst your lodges.”

Rannach said, “ Thank you, father. For a while there I feared you might take Vachyr’ s side.”

“ For a while,” Racharran said quietly, “ I thought I might. For the good of the clan.”

The shock he saw on Rannach’ s face was gratifying, but then he shrugged and smiled more warmly. “

But how could I, after Chakthi’ s insult? Vachyr the better man? Ach, no! Only” — he placed a hand on

both their shoulders— “ tread wary about those two, as you would about a wounded buffalo.”

Rannach nodded gravely. “ I’ d see Arrhyna in our lodges this night,” he said. “ And ask you offer her

parents our hospitality.”

Perhaps, Racharran thought, there’ s yet hope for him. Perhaps marriage will gentle him. Aloud, he said, “

That’ s wise. Yes: I’ ll speak with them now.”

“ Thank you,” Arrhyna said. “ The akaman of the Tachyn bears them little love for this, I think.”

“ Chakthi,” Rannach declared, grinning, “ bears little love for anyone. Save Vachyr.”

“ Go.” Racharran dismissed them with a wave. “ Take your cohorts with you. And remember your

promise!”

“ As my akaman commands.”

Rannach spread his blanket to encompass Arrhyna and jerked his head. On the instant, Bakaan and the

others came hurrying up to form an honor guard. Racharran went to where Nemeth and Zeil stood. They

looked to him like buffalo separated from their herd, and frightened.

“ Your daughter sleeps under my protection this night,” he said, “ and soon shall wed my son. Would you

name yourselves Commacht, then you are welcome in my clan.”

Nemeth looked at Zeil, who nodded and smiled nervously. “ My thanks,” he said. “ We’ ve angered

Chakthi with this, and… ” He shrugged helplessly.

“ Chakthi is not a man to forgive a perceived slight,” Racharran finished. “ Do you bring your tent across

the water now, and tomorrow we’ ll cut your horses from the Tachyn herd.”

“ And does Chakthi object, my Lakanti shall be there.” Yazte came up to join them, clapping Racharran

cheerfully on the shoulder. “ In the name of the Maker, my friend, that was a thing worth the seeing.

Chakthi had the look of an old bear driven from his wintering cave. His discomfort was a thing to relish.”

“ Old bears are grumpy,” Racharran said. “ And often dangerous.”

“ True.” Yazte’ s smile faded. “ But should this particular bear show his claws, you’ ve but to ask my help.”

Racharran nodded. “ I’ ll see them wed soon as possible,” he murmured. “ Perhaps the ceremony will cool

Vachyr’ s ardor and he look elsewhere for a bride.”

“ Perhaps.” Yazte snorted. “ But Chakthi’ s pride? That shall not be cooled, I think.”

“ Ach, pride!” Racharran chopped a dismissive hand. “ Such pride is a curse.”

“ But what should we be without our pride?” Yazte asked. “ You’ d not take the Tachyn’ s insult. Was that

not pride?”

“ It was.” Racharran smiled, somewhat ashamed. “ I rose to that.”

“ As would any warrior,” Yazte said. “ Chakthi stepped beyond the pale with that. I’ ve not your calm. Had

he said that to me… ”

Racharran nodded, wearying of the conversation. He felt a need to forget the bellicose Tachyn for a while.

“ I’ ve tiswin in my lodge,” he said, “ do you care to celebrate this decision.”

“ I do,” Yazte declared eagerly. “ Lead on, my friend.”

“ A moment.” Racharran motioned that Yazte wait, and went to where Juh sat, deep in conversation with

the Aparhaso wakanisha, Hazhe. He waited politely until they looked up, then extended his invitation.

“ Thank you,” murmured Juh, “ but these old bones of mine crave rest, and the days when I could sit with

you youngsters drinking the night away are long gone. The wedding, though, I shall attend.”

Racharran ducked his head, accepting the subtle dismissal. He turned toward young Tahdase, but the

Naiche akaman was already quitting the circle, surrounded by a protective band of warriors.

He returned to where Yazte waited. “ We drink alone,” he said.

Yazte chuckled. “ Then the more for us.”

Racharran smiled and looked about for Morrhyn. The wakanisha was deep in conversation with Kahteney

of the Lakanti and Isten of the Naiche, and when Racharran caught his eye and motioned the lifting of a

cup, he shook his head. Racharran shrugged— so it would be him and Yazte, and therefore, no doubt,

further discussion of Chakthi and his famous temper. He went from the circle with the Lakanti, hoping

Yazte did not drink him dry.

“ I’ ve known the same dream,” Kahteney said. “ I fear it bodes ill for the Commacht. I believe it means war

with the Tachyn.”

“ That may well come,” Morrhyn allowed, “ but I cannot believe the dream refers to that. I fear it is

something larger.”

He looked to Isten, hoping— or fearing— for confirmation, but the Naiche Dreamer only shook his head

and said, “ This is a thing for the Dream Council, not” — he glanced around as if fearful of

eavesdroppers— “ so public a place.”

Morrhyn frowned. Isten and his akaman shared the same cautious nature; or the one fed the other: it was

hard to decide. They both prompted him to think of nervous deer, waiting, testing the wind, before

venturing forth. Surely neither would come readily or swiftly to any decision; and he felt in his bones that

swift decisions would be needed ere long. But, by custom, he must allow Isten was right: was the dream

forewarning of events momentous as he feared, then it was a thing for the Dream Council, for all the

wakanishas. And after, when interpretation was agreed, for the full Council. He wondered if, after that

night’ s events, concord could any longer be reached. He lowered his head in silent acceptance.

“ Best then we sit in council soon,” Kahteney declared tersely, favoring the Naiche wakanisha with an

irritated glance.

“ Yes.” Morrhyn nodded, wishing it might be now. It seemed that since arriving at the Meeting Ground his

trepidation grew apace, as if this gathering of the clans somehow accelerated his concern.

“ But best Rannach and Arrhyna are wed first,” said cautious Isten. “ Let that particular thorn be blunted

before we seek Hadduth’ s aid.”

Morrhyn doubted the marriage ceremony would do much to blunt any of the Tachyns’ feelings, but it

would, he supposed, finally resolve the minor problem. “ My brother Isten speaks wisely,” he declared

diplomatically. “ But once that is done?”

“ We hold Dream Council,” said Kahteney, and smacked his lips, grinning. “ Now, Morrhyn, did Racharran

not invite my akaman to drink tiswin? And do you not think we wakanishas should attend them?”

Morrhyn hesitated. He would sooner speak of the dream or be alone to contemplate its meaning. Save, he

thought, Isten will not lend us his advice; and Kahteney believes it means war; so… He ducked his head

and said, “ I suppose so. Isten, do you join us?”

“ I think not.” The Naiche smiled apology. “ Likely Tahdase would have my counsel.”

He nodded his farewell and left them. Kahteney watched his retreating back and said, “ A careful one,

that. Like his akaman.”

“ Caution,” said Morrhyn, “ is no bad thing.”

“ Save it become vacillation,” said Kahteney. “ And those two are like skittish colts. They prance and run

directionless when the stallions stamp their hooves.”

Morrhyn refused to be drawn into criticism. Instead, he pointed in the direction of the Commacht lodges. “

Do we join our akamans before they finish all the tiswin?”

Kahteney needed no further urging: together the wakanishas strode from the circle.

Their path took them through the Tachyn camp, and there folk watched them pass in silence. It was

impossible to know their feelings. Morrhyn saw light in Chakthi’ s lodge and the outlines of three men cast

shadowy against the hide. Chakthi and Vachyr spoke with Hadduth, he surmised; he wondered of what.

Kahteney appeared oblivious, or careless, but the Commacht was relieved when they forded the stream

and came amongst the lodges of his own clan.

From where the tents of the unmarried men were pitched there came a great clamor, laughter and shouts

and dancing. They celebrated Rannach’ s triumph with tiswin: Morrhyn hoped they would not drink so

much as to carry their merrymaking across the stream. He wished he could share their carefree joy.

Racharran and Yazte sat outside the Commacht akaman’ s lodge, a pitcher passing from hand to hand.

They laughed and jested, but more soberly than the young men, as befitted mature warriors. Space was

made for the two wakanishas, and Morrhyn accepted a cup that Racharran filled. Lhyn, he saw, was not

present, and assumed she saw to the settling of Arrhyna and her parents, whose lodge the girl would

continue to share until the ceremony was concluded— the usual safeguard against a groom rendered

overly amorous by tiswin.

“ Nemeth and Zeil are settled?” he asked.

Racharran nodded, his face a moment dark.

Yazte chuckled and said, “ Chakthi watched their going like some bile-ridden buffalo, then announced

them banished from the Tachyn. Ach, it was a sight to savor, his black face.”

Morrhyn essayed a smile, not wishing to offend.

“ We spoke of the Grannach,” Racharran said.

Yazte said, “ Of their absence.”

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EXILE’SCHILDRENAngusWellsABantamSpectraBookAllrightsreserved.Copyright©1995byAngusWellsCoverartcopyright©1995byStephenYou’ll.LibraryofCongressCardCatalogNumber:95-17735.ISBN0-553-29903-4PublishedsimultaneouslyintheUmtedStatesandCanadaPRINTEDINTHEUNITEDSTATESOFAMERICAForAnneLesleyGroellandJamieWarren...

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