Part 69 (2/2)
Griane brushed a wisp of hair off Hircha's face. ”I know.”
Chapter 54.
CONN BROKE DOWN only once, when he told him about the rape. After that, he never made a sound. By the time Keirith finished, the faint slivers of light seeping through the c.h.i.n.ks in the walls were gone. And no one from his family had come to see him.
”It's late, Conn. And I . . . I guess I should try to sleep.”
”Aye. But first, we need to make a new oath.”
Conn unsheathed his dagger and stared down at his shaking hand.
”Try not to cut my wrist,” Keirith said.
Conn managed a weak smile. His fingers found the place at the base of his thumb. There was a quick, sharp sting as the dagger bit into his flesh and then the warm swell of blood. Conn pa.s.sed him the dagger. Keirith was surprised to discover how steady his hand was as he made the cut for Conn.
”To be friends in this life,” Conn said as they clasped hands. ”And brothers in the next.”
”Spirit linked to spirit.”
”Heart bound to heart.”
Conn cut two strips from the bottom of his tunic and they bound each other's wounds. They got to their feet, neither of them willing to say good-bye. Then they heard the voices outside and embraced, a hard fierce hug that promised they would always remember their oath. Conn paused at the doorway, his expression fierce. And then he was gone.
Expecting to see his family, Keirith tried to hide his disappointment when Ennit and Lisula ducked inside. Although he was grateful to them for coming, he just didn't have the strength for another emotional encounter. The Grain-Mother was the first to realize he wanted to be alone. Before she left, she promised his family would be along soon.
Drained and exhausted, Keirith sat down beside the fire pit. He kept glancing at the doorway, waiting for the sound of footsteps. But none came. Even without the Grain-Mother's promise, he knew they wouldn't desert him.
As the night wore on, he feared something had happened. But the village was very quiet. Everyone was asleep. Even old Mintan was snoring.
Abruptly, his droning snores turned to a surprised snort. The bearskin moved. His father stepped inside. ”I'm sorry I couldn't come earlier. Are you all right?”
He looked very tired but calm. Relaxed, even. As if they had all the time in the world.
”Aye. I . . . I saw Conn.”
”I'm glad.”
”Ennit and Lisula came, too.”
”Gortin would have, but he's been going from hut to hut, trying to convince someone on the council to change his vote.”
His father's expression was proof enough that no one had.
”Where's Mam? And Faelia and Callie?”
”Your mam and Hircha went to the lake. How they can see to gather plants at this time of night is beyond me.”
Gathering plants? The night before the tribe was going to cast him out?
”Faelia and Callie are asleep. I thought of waking them, but they'll have a long day on the morrow and they need the rest.”
Numb with disbelief, Keirith just stared at him.
”You don't mind?”
A horrifying suspicion was forming, but he couldn't find the words to voice it.
”Oh, G.o.ds.” His father looked stricken. ”I'm sorry. I thought . . . since there would be time on the morrow . . . never mind. I'll fetch them now.”
He was halfway to the door when Keirith grabbed his arm. ”What are you talking about? What have you done?”
For a moment, his father's face was perfectly blank. ”I'm talking about leaving the village.” He spoke slowly and carefully, as he might to a child. ”All of us. After the casting out.” Whatever his father saw on his face made him take a step back. ”You said yourself . . . you said everything would be all right. And I thought you understood. I thought you knew. G.o.ds, Keirith! Did you think we'd abandon you? Stand by and do nothing?”
”I only meant . . . when I said that, I meant I'd accepted the council's decision.”
”Well, we didn't!” His father stared at him as if he were a stranger. ”You sat here-all night-thinking we weren't even coming to say farewell? You believed I could do such a thing? After all we've been through together?”
”Nay. I . . . I just thought you were giving me time. With Conn. And later, I thought . . . I wondered if you would try and free me. Take me away like you did Tinnean. But not the whole family. You can't drag Callie and Faelia into the wilderness.”
”I'm not dragging them. We all voted.”
”I didn't!”
”I voted for you. You were the only one opposed. I made all the arguments you're going to make now, so you may as well save your breath.”
His father's implacable calm-nay, arrogance-turned his shock to anger. ”You have no right-”
”I'm the head of this family. That alone gives me the right!” His father's shoulders heaved as he fought for control. ”We all discussed it. And we all agreed. I'm sorry you don't, but the decision has been made.”
”Then you'll have to unmake it. I won't permit it!”
”By the G.o.ds, you will!” He paced, a caged beast in the tiny hut. ”I expected you to be relieved, at least. That we intend to stand by you.”
The hurt in his father's voice kept Keirith from shouting back. ”I am. But you can't do this.”
”Your mother and I survived in the First Forest for nearly a moon without fire or friends-and me half dead on top of it. We have time to find a place. To build a home.”
”And how are you going to feed everyone? With a Memory-Keeper's tales?”
His father's head snapped back. ”I'll hunt,” he said, a savage edge to his voice. ”And so will Faelia. We'll set snares. We'll gather roots and berries. In the spring, we'll plant barley-”
”Where are you going to get-?”
”From our share of the tribe's stores. Nionik has agreed.”
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