Part 68 (1/2)

”Nay!” Griane exclaimed. ”For mercy's sake, let him spend this night at home.”

”Post a guard.” Darak made no effort to keep the bitterness from his voice. ”If you're afraid he'll run off.”

”You don't need a guard,” Keirith said. ”I won't run away. But please . . .”

His voice broke. d.a.m.n Nionik for making his boy beg.

”I'm sorry. Your family is free to visit you, but the law requires-”

Darak started for Nionik, only to be pulled back as Keirith seized his arm. ”Don't, Fa. It doesn't matter.” He turned toward the others with that same forced smile. ”We'll talk later. But now, I . . . I'd better go.”

Again, his voice broke. Before Darak could stop him, Keirith pushed past Nionik. The chief bowed formally, once to him and again to Griane, and left without speaking.

”I'll speak with the elders,” Gortin said. ”Perhaps I can convince them to change their votes.”

”They won't,” Darak said. ”But I thank you. All of you. Your friends.h.i.+p means a great deal. Lisula . . . the things I said before . . .”

”Hush. I know.”

Finally, he forced himself to meet Griane's eyes. ”I'm sorry.”

”It's not your fault.”

”I shouldn't have let him come back.”

”It was Keirith's choice and he made it. Just as the elders made theirs. There's no time now for regrets or recriminations. We must prepare ourselves.”

Although her voice was quiet, she seemed to blaze as she had the morning he had awakened in the grove of the First Forest. Her fiery hair. Her bright eyes. Slender and pale as a birch, but stronger than any oak. When he'd fled with Tinnean, she had chased after them through the cold and dark of Midwinter. Even then, she had known without words what was in his heart. The hard knot of pain in his chest eased.

”Aye. We must prepare.”

Chapter 53.

KEIRITH SHOOK HIS head when Nemek brought in the bowl of stew. ”I'm not hungry.”

”I know. But you should try and eat.”

And because Nemek looked so miserable, Keirith took the bowl and thanked him. Nemek lingered a moment as if he meant to speak, then rushed out. Keirith heard Mintan say, ”There, lad. Get hold of yourself. It won't help poor Keirith to hear you making such a fuss.” Mintan probably thought he was whispering, but deaf as he was, his softest comment always came out as a shout.

He knew he should eat-the G.o.ds only knew when he'd have hot food again-but after choking down one bite, he put the bowl down. At least he'd kept Fa from attacking the chief. He just hoped he wouldn't do anything foolish like trying to free him. He'd seemed calm enough when he'd first entered the hut. It was all an act, of course. Just as he'd been trying to act calm so he wouldn't upset his family further. Perhaps that's why the law said a condemned man had to spend his last night alone. As hard as it was to be away from his family, it was a relief to abandon the pretense of calm.

He had never witnessed a casting out, but every child knew what was involved. Worse than the shame of the ceremony itself was the thought of his family witnessing it.

Unwilling to think about that, he rose and paced. Five strides across the hut. Five strides back. There was nothing here to remind him of Jurl or Erca. Someone had placed a pile of rabbitskins near the fire pit, along with a waterskin and a stone bowl in case he needed to relieve himself. He might almost be back in his little room in the palace; he even had his two guards outside.

He felt no bitterness toward the elders; he was merely angry that he had allowed himself to hope. But anger was as fruitless as clinging to the belief that none of this would have happened if he had resisted the temptation to fly with the eagle. Long before then, his power had set him apart. He wished he knew why the G.o.ds had chosen him. Perhaps it was one of the games the Trickster enjoyed playing on hapless mortals.

Oddly, it was the Trickster's words that helped calm him: ”Don't think about the future. Just survive one moment and then the next.” ”Don't think about the future. Just survive one moment and then the next.”

He forced himself to sit. He picked up his bowl of stew. He finished every bite. As he was setting the bowl down, he heard a commotion outside: Conn demanding to see him; Mintan protesting that there was no need to push; Nemek murmuring something too soft to hear.

The bearskin was flung back. For a moment, Conn's stocky figure stood silhouetted against the soft twilight. Then he stepped inside and let the bearskin swing shut behind him.

Keirith endured the silent scrutiny as long as he could. Then he said, ”Hullo, Conn.”

His milk-brother flinched.

It was as if Conn had slapped him. Last night had been hard enough-waiting, hoping Conn would come to welcome him home. But this . . .

Conn took one step toward him, shaky as a newborn lamb, then sank down on the rushes and covered his face with his hands. His shoulders heaved as he sobbed.

”Don't.”

Conn's head jerked up. Fat tears oozed down his cheeks. ”I should have come! You're my best friend. And I didn't even come see you. And now . . .” His voice broke and he covered his face again.

Keirith knelt beside him. ”You can't cry. You can't! Because then I'll start. And if I start . . .”

Conn raised his head and dragged his sleeve across his nose. ”I'm sorry.” His face crumpled and he shook his head angrily. ”I won't.”

They sat side by side, neither daring to look at the other. Conn took long, heaving breaths until he got himself under control. ”I was watching the flock. When Fa came and told me.” He slammed his fist against one of the stones of the fire pit. ”How could they do it?”

”I cast out a man's spirit.”

”I don't care! It's still you.”

Keirith swallowed hard. His hand groped toward Conn who nearly crushed it in his grip.

”We'll run away,” Conn said. ”After dark. I'll pack food and weapons. I'll hide them down by the lake and come back for you. I'll . . . I'll knock Mintan down. Nemek, too. And we'll steal a coracle and go . . . somewhere. Downriver, maybe. Or up. It doesn't matter. We can live off the land.”

”You're a shepherd.”

”So what? I'm good with a sling. Better than you. And I've got a bow and arrows.”

”Aye, but you can't hit anything with them.”

Conn opened his mouth and closed it again.

”And The Ferocious Scowl won't change that,” Keirith added.

After a moment, Conn's face relaxed. ”That was The Mutinous Glare. It's new.”

”It's good. Really.”

Conn punched his arm. He punched Conn back. They both laughed. And then the laughter caught in their throats and they just stared at each other.

”What will you do?”