Yet gratitude hadn’t quite infected the other chief yet, a man two decades younger than Pa, but just as weathered by the roads, and thriceas mistrustful. “That was a Phoenix tooth, aye?” He bit off each word tough and salty as jerky. “You’rethe one the queen’s after.”
“She’s the one who’s made a fool of that queen thrice over,” Wretch said coldly.
“And aren’t weallbetter for it.” The other chief pointed at the faltering beacon. “You see that? Karostei called us, then their arbiter turned us away. He said that if even the king could die of plague we brought in, then they couldn’t chance it. Whatever feud you’ve started with the queen just cost us viatik.”
“The queen’s cozied up with the Oleander Gentry,” shot back Madcap. “You’ve no notion what Chief went through to keep her off the throne and keepthemfrom running us all down.”
“Would’ve been faster than starving. They’ll just come for us tonight anyway.”
“Aye, noted,” Wretch drawled. “You’d rather we let you die by mob. We’ll remember that next time.”
“Enough.” Fie swallowed. Her itch to fight had fled with the Crane oafs, and the other chief wasn’t wrong. Even if vexing Rhusana was better than the alternative, the rest of their caste would catch trouble for a choice they’d no say in.
Besides, Crows had one rule, and she didn’t get to be picky about it. “That queen won’t be much longer for her throne, and I wager Karostei won’t much longer have an arbiter if he keeps turning Crows away while the town rots. You’re welcome to make camp with us tonight, and we’ll be safe from Oleanders. At the dawn, we’ll head to Karostei. You can come with, or you can head north to shelter in the groves of Gen-Mara until this all settles. Either way, you’ll see viatik again soon. Does that suit you?”
The other chief considered a moment as Fie took in the sight of his band. Thin faces, light packs, clothes worn near to threadbare, and moretellingly, none worn so thin as their chief. No wagon at all, let alone one for supplies alone, and precious little time to waste answering plague beacons that didn’t end in viatik.
“We’ve enough to share dinner,” Fie added.
The other band traded looks at that, and their chief folded his arms. “Aye, suppose that suits us. You’ll deal with Karostei yourselves, though. I’ll have no part of that again.”
“Fair.” Fie tapped her fist to her mouth and held it out. “Fie.”
“Drudge,” answered the other chief. “When do we eat?”
Prince Jasimir had once told Fie the Markahn clan of Hawks thought cats were good luck. When Barf the tabby caught mice in their supplies, or sniffed out wild mint, or sat up and stared down the road a full minute before anyone rode their way, that was true enough.
There was another way the cat was lucky, though: her kills made perfect studies for Fie.
The tabby had learned that laying a dead squirrel at Fie’s toes bought her a bite of salt fish and a lap to curl up in later, when Fie went about mastering the Hawk Birthright. The tricky thing about the Birthright of blood was that it could destroy just as well as heal, if not easier, and as one of the Hawk witches, Corporal Lakima had recommended Fie practice as their novices did—on something beyond suffering.
Now, as late twilight hung over the camp, Lakima examined the remains of Barf’s latest victim: a tree mouse that had been dispatched with one swift bite. The tooth marks had stoppered up with dried blood, thanks to Fie’s work with a Hawk witch-tooth. The corporal held her own hand over the carcass, then nodded her approval. “You’ve got clotting down, and that alone will buy you time to get to a trained healer.”
Fie’s Crows were no stranger to her lessons, whether in swords, letters, or healing. Drudge and his Crows, however, took in the proceedings with an array of bewilderment and suspicion. They’d given the Hawks a wide berth, and now they watched Madcap and Varlet toss shells with Khoda as if they were gambling with an asp.
But Lakima seemed to be ignoring it entirely. “If you want to make sure your patient lives, the next thing you’ll need to master is clearing out any—” She stopped as Barf jerked awake from where she’d been lounging by Fie’s side and stared down the road, yellow eyes wide as saucers. Her striped tail fluffed out, and a warning yowl gurgled up from her throat.
“… disease,” Lakima finished with a sigh. She handed Fie a vinegar-soaked rag to clean her hands after handling the vermin, and wiped her own hands with another before standing and helping Fie to her feet.
“Oleanders coming,” Fie called. Drudge’s band burst into motion, snatching up aught they could carry, and Fie immediately realized her mistake. “Wait—just—everyone get closer together—you don’t need to go to the trees—”
“Mind your own band, cousin,” Drudge snapped. “Up, you lot, fast as you can.”
Some of his Crows hung back a moment, looking at Fie and the Hawks, but they followed their chief and vanished into the trees. Fie’s band just did their best to gather a little closer to the fire, rounding up all the goods about the camp so a spiteful Oleander couldn’t trample aught. Madcap made a show of peeling an apple, casual as could be.
Vexed, Fie sat too. She’dtoldDrudge she’d keep them safe.
Two moons ago, you’d be in those trees with them, her Chief voice reminded her. She did her best to ignore it as the Hawks assumed their usual post between the camp and the road.
This time something seemed different about the Oleander Gentryas they rounded the corner. When Fie spied it, a peculiar twist wrenched through her gut. It wasn’t the number; nigh twenty riders was high, but naught she and Lakima couldn’t handle. It wasn’t the weapons; she’d faced down steel before.
It was their faces, plain and furious. Not a single one of them had bothered to don a mask. Gloves, aye, and crude smocks of rough undyed cloth, but no masks.
They’d dressed for bloody business, but not one among them believed they’d be punished for it.
Much as they found strength in a pack, the Oleanders still seemed to have unofficially declared a leader in the man at the front, who slowed to a halt in front of Lakima. Fie heard Khoda suck in a breath and saw why at once: the Oleander carried a Hawk spear.
“Stand down,” he ordered Lakima. “We have business with the bone thieves.”
