Part 22 (1/2)

”I would never do such a thing,” said the Mother. ”He is precious to me.”

The woman hesitated. ”They're looking for him.”

”I will protect him. Where is he?”

The woman paused, and the Mother sent a second s.h.i.+mmering ribbon into the woman's arm.

”To horse,” said the woman weakly.

It made no sense. The woman was babbling. She was not going to live. Not here in the dark, not with that injury.

”Who is horse?” asked the Mother, but the woman closed her eyes. The Mother tried to bring her back with pain, but the woman fell limp in her hands.

”She's dead,” said Hunger.

”Her heart is still beating,” said the Mother. ”But what's this?” She sniffed. The Mother put a finger to the woman's b.l.o.o.d.y head and licked the blood off. ”That does not taste right.” She savored the blood. ”There's death there. But I've tasted worse. I can fix this one. She's going to live and lead us to others. Now make me my binding.”

Hunger made the binding, brought it to life, and put it round the woman's neck. Then the Mother sent him out to find the others.

Hunger gladly left the Mother in the caves and emerged out of one of the exits, lumbering into the woods. She'd commanded him to bring the other two men to her. He knew the Mokaddian was Argoth. Knew exactly where he lived, and set out in that direction.

The winds were up, moving down from the hills, carrying all manner of scents to him. He'd only gone a mile or so when he caught a whiff of magic. It was odd how often he smelled the magic of late. Perhaps the woman was bringing the sleth out of hiding, drawing the nest to her. Or perhaps Hunger was simply maturing in his powers. One thing was for sure, he could smell a male in this magic.

Maybe he wouldn't have to go to Argoth. Maybe Argoth would come to him. He followed the scent out of the lower hills and up onto the plains, to a farmstead past the edge of the settlements. He paused in the woods on the edge of a field.

A bat darted above him and flittered out over fields of ripe grain s.h.i.+ning pale and blue in the evening. On the far side of the fields stood a simple cabin with light s.h.i.+ning from its small windows.

Hunger took in a great breath of the scent. He knew he shouldn't do that because it only enflamed his appet.i.te, and the Mother had wanted this human live. But he couldn't help himself.

He walked along the tree line toward it and noticed a number of new stumps. Somebody had been busy this year clearing the land. When Hunger finally approached the cabin, he could hear the soft sounds of a man humming over the thrum of the night insects. He circled the cabin until he found a window. The scent of magic was pouring from the cracks around the window frame. Hunger looked in. But he did not see Argoth.

A burly man stood naked in a large round tub set close to the hearth. He was was.h.i.+ng himself. A pot of water steamed over the cheery fire. The man took a cake of soap and lathered his hairy chest. Hunger did not recognize him. He was not the Koramite that had attacked him in the tower. Yet he stank.

Hunger considered the Mother's promise. It had raised his hopes at first, but the more he pondered it, the more it unraveled. What cattleman did his cattle favors? When did one spare a healthy animal from slaughter? You might keep a bull or cow a number of years; the slaughter might be delayed, but when animals ceased to be productive, they, with all the rest, were harvested. It was that simple. The Mother thought he was stupid. And maybe he was. But he could see through this lie.

The Mother had forbidden him to eat the ones that stink. Why was that?

She didn't want him eating their secrets; that's why. Because if he knew their secrets, maybe he could challenge her. Surely they would know how to remake the collar. And if they knew that, they might hold other secrets far more powerful. Secrets strong enough to overpower the Mother.

Hunger walked up to the door. The man sang a few words then continued to hum his tune. Something about the tune p.r.i.c.ked Hunger's mind, and he paused, listening. The music filled him with longing as wide as the sky, but no thoughts. Nothing to hang the longing upon.

He felt a revulsion at the thought of eating this man. He realized he'd felt this revulsion before, but it had always been lost in the raging fire of his appet.i.te. But the revulsion didn't matter. It didn't matter that what he was doing was abomination. What mattered was that he had an opportunity to stop the Mother. What mattered was that he could free his family.

The humming swelled.

He would eat this man and satisfy his appet.i.te.

Hunger thrust open the door.

The man did not look at him in horror, only surprise that turned to cold calculation. Then the man lunged out of his tub toward the window.

Hunger followed.

The man took two steps and dove at the window. He burst through the shutters.

He was quick and would have escaped, but Hunger was quicker and caught him by the leg just before it disappeared through the window. The man kicked like a horse, but Hunger dragged him back in.

The man did not cry out. He simply turned and delivered a blow to Hunger's throat that would have killed a bull. But the Mother's handiwork wasn't so easily defeated. Instead of felling Hunger, all the man succeeded in doing was breaking his own hand. He drew it back, pain wracking his face.

The Mother didn't know he was here. She was crooning to her children, deep in the caves, and watching over the sleth woman. Nevertheless, he expected to fight her compulsion.

Then he realized she hadn't said not to eat this one. She didn't know about this one.

The man used his good hand to pick up a chair. He hammered at Hunger's grip. But Hunger did not let him go. Hunger would not bend to the Mother's wishes like some idiot cow whose only thought was of gra.s.s. He was, underneath all this dirt, a man. And even though this sleth didn't realize it, he was going to help save Hunger's family. He was going to be put to good use. And who knew: if Hunger learned the secrets and defeated the Mother completely, then this sleth would be the means of saving every mother and daughter and son of the Nine Clans.

Hunger felt along the fiber of this sleth's being. Soon enough he found an edge. It took only a few moments, and Hunger shucked his soul. The soul was sweet and beautiful, and Hunger could not help but bolt great portions of him.

Then the Mother stirred, and Hunger froze. He immediately released the remnants of the man's soul which flew to the wind. He stood quietly for some time bracing himself for her ire. But the Mother didn't search him. She didn't walk into his mind. She was too busy. Much too busy.

Except now the man was gone.

Hunger hated himself and yet delighted in the savor of the man. He only hoped he'd eaten enough.

He stepped to the table and fingered the comb. He handled a sea sh.e.l.l brush, a polished mirror, and a length of yellow cloth-all woman things. He could not say why, but he threw all these in the fire. Then he watched them burn to ash. He knew the tune the man had been humming. He played it in his mind, waiting for the memories to digest. Waiting for the secrets.

But Hunger did not receive secrets. All he felt was the growing of an unaccountable sorrow. And then the picture of a tall, plain woman with laughing eyes rose in his mind, and the sorrow stretched wide.

I am a ruin, he thought. He picked up one of the red, dying coals and held it in his hand. But if he had to become a ruin, if he had to become ash, then so be it. There were other sleth to hunt tonight. He knew the house of the Shoka's Hammer, knew exactly where he could find Argoth.

Hunger arrived in the dark of the early morning and walked up to the door to Argoth's house. He slid his fingers between the back door and its frame and silently lifted the bar.

The dogs surprised him, but he quickly twisted their necks, gulping down their fire and soul. Hunger stood in the kitchen with the dead dogs at his feet, but when n.o.body came to investigate, he proceeded to search the house. He found four rooms. There was nothing in them but beds filled with sleeping children and servants. He creaked down the hallway and found Argoth's wife asleep. Argoth was not with her.

Hunger retreated to a dark corner of the room and waited for Argoth, watching his wife toss and turn and finally kick the bedcovers to the floor. But when he smelled the beginnings of the morning winds, Hunger exited as quietly as he had come.

He took the bodies of the dogs with him and waited in the tree line by a fat chestnut. He would catch Argoth when he returned.

18.

A Cold Kiss SUGAR SAT IN the cellar of Zu Hogan's house listening to Legs sleep. The cellar was both wide and deep and hadn't yet been filled with the winter stores, and so she didn't have to contend with mosquitoes or any of the monstrous black and yellow spiders that seemed unable to stay out of the dog warren. It was vastly more comfortable here than out in that hole under the old sod house. But it was not safe.

Not with men in the woods, and that idiot Talen making a scene. Goh, that stinking load of scours had scared the life out of her. He'd nearly broken her nose throwing that door in her face. He'd nearly killed her and Legs both.

But then . . . what would she have done in his position? These folks were risking their lives. Obviously, he hadn't been asked if he were willing to do that. Wouldn't she want to be asked to risk her life for a stranger?