Even with Prince Jasimir’s armies nigh at her door, Rhusana had made her move.
The king was dead.
CHAPTER TWO
STOLEN
“Welcome to our roads, cousin.”
Fie cast a palmful of salt onto the pyre, then took a step back from the flames licking up the dead Peacock’s shroud and thought a quick prayer to the dead Crow goddess who claimed the plague-dead, the Eater of Bones. Most of Sabor believed the sinner girl would be born as a Crow in the next life, to atone for whatever she did that made the Covenant snatch her so swift from this one.
Fie didn’t know if that were true, but if it were, she sore hoped the girl would learn to be less of a hateful hag.
“Didn’t sound like you meant that welcome,” Pa said by her side.
The Thousand Conqueststwisted in Fie’s other hand. She’d washed up with soap-shells and salt, yet firelight still painted her fingers red against the pale, crumpled parchment. “I don’t.”
“She’ll be a babe when she comes to us as a Crow,” Pa said.
“Better come to someone else’s band.”
“Fie.” Pa set a hand on her shoulder. “It changes naught.”
He didn’t mean the girl on the pyre.
“It’s the last day of Crow Moon and the king dies? They’ll put us at fault for it, Pa.”
Pa ran a hand over his beard. “And it’s been two moons since we were there. Anyone who faults us for it is just looking for something new to blame on Crows. Likely they’re already riding with the Oleanders.”
“But it doesn’t add up, either.” Fie shook her head. “We’ve still two weeks until the solstice, when a proper Phoenix would be crowned. Jas is sure to make it to the royal palace before then to stake out the throne, and he’s the one bringing the armies. And now half the nation thinks he’s Ambra reborn, sent here to lead us into a new bright age… so since when does Rhusana’s kind pick a fight they know they’ll lose?”
The firelight caught on the knob of scar tissue where Pa’s little finger had once been. He’d lost it in just such a fight. “Aye,” he said. “It doesn’t add up for the queen. But what are you to do about it?”
“What?”
“You’re a Crow chief, leagues and leagues away from Dumosa. What areyouto do?”
Fie wrung the parchment in her hands. She knew the words all too well, yet they felt like shackles tonight. “Look after my own.”
Pa squeezed her shoulder and let go. “Let the royals roll their fortune-bones. We’ve no part in their games now, and however their bones land, we’re still chiefs. You’ve your own to look after. And I’ve a shrine to keep.”
Fie flinched. Most of her wanted to hare dead south to Dumosa, to burn as many of her teeth as it took to send Rhusana to the next life, tosettle Jas on his throne and set off on her roads with Tavin at her side. And doing just that would mean keeping Pa with her that much longer.
But Pa was right. Crows needed every haven shrine they could get, and no band needed two chiefs. In the Jawbone Gulf waited the watchtower of the dead god Little Witness. The keeper there kept track of every shrine to a dead Crow god, and would know which ones sat empty and unused.
When old Crows could no longer travel the roads, they lived out their days in a haven shrine built on the grave of one of their dead gods. That close to a dead god, any Crow could keep the shrine’s stores of teeth alight, hiding it from other castes. A witch like Pa, though, could make a shrine nigh invincible. No doubt he’d be assigned to one they sore needed.
Fie would deliver him there herself, and then leave him behind her for good.
And from the sound of it, she’d do it while Rhusana seemed certain of her victory. Rhusana, who’d promised the Oleander Gentry they could hunt Crows as they pleased once she reigned. Rhusana, whose mere promise of permission had brought more Oleanders down on Fie’s head in the last three moons than Fie had seen in years. Evenaftershe’d delivered the prince to safety.
“What if it gets worse?” she whispered. “What if I’m not enough to look after them?”
“You’ve six Hawks, Fie,” Pa said pointedly. “Two swords. Thousands of Phoenix teeth to burn your way clear. If aught can get through all that, it won’t be a fight meant for a mortal to win.”
That was the heart of her vexation, Fie reckoned. No Crow band in memory had ever had such protection, and still she didn’t feel her Crows were safe. A storm squatted on their horizon. All she could do was try to keep them out of it.
Two moons ago, she’d stood in front of two empty pyres, Hangdogat her side, fresh off cutting an oath with the crown prince. Jasimir had tried to tell her then that the Crows’ only hope of survival was saving him, and Hangdog had sworn it was all a wash.
