Part 2 (1/2)
WITHIN THE WHITENESS OF THE swirling blizzard was an even brighter patch at the center of the spinning frenzy of snow. The Obea had followed Edme into the storm. She now began to howl, ”Stop, Edme. Stop! It's me, Airmead!”
The very name split the fury of the storm. Seldom was an Obea's name spoken out loud, and it was unthinkable that an Obea would refer to herself by her given name. If gnaw wolves were the lowest-ranked wolves in a clan and the objects of physical and verbal abuse, Obeas were wolves of no rank at all. They were barren, and existed in a social purgatory that was beneath the contempt of any wolf in the clan, almost as if the Obeas were invisible. Airmead had heard that in other clans this purgatory was not as harsh, although she-wolves who were pregnant s.h.i.+ed away from them as if Obeas could hex their unborn pups.
The time had come for Airmead to explain the dark, dirty secret of the MacHeath clan, whispered about for so many years. Airmead felt as if something deep inside herself had cracked open. And oddly enough, it felt good.
When Edme heard the Obea's name ring out, she stopped short, spreading her toes wide so she would not sink into the snow, which was piling up fast. Airmead was soon beside her.
”Follow me,” Airmead said. ”We'll dig a snow pit, though I think the blizzard is stopping.”
Dig a snow pit a” with the Obea? Edme thought. When in the history of the Beyond had a malcadh and an Obea ever spoken to each other? Share a snow pit with the very wolf whose task was to take malcadhs to their tummfraws to die? It was beyond astonis.h.i.+ng to Edme. ”What is it?” Edme demanded. ”What do you want from me?”
”You need to hear the truth.”
”I know the truth. I know what they did to me. I know that you never took me to that tummfraw.”
”In all the time that I have been the MacHeath Obea, I have never taken any wolf pup to a tummfraw.”
”What? Never?” Edme was astounded.
”Never!”
Almost as soon as they had settled into the snow pit, the blizzard ceased and the sun began to s.h.i.+ne. By the time Airmead finished her story, large patches of bare ground had appeared from under the melting snow. ”So you see, it's a paradox that the most depraved of all the clans has never produced an actual malcadh. It's as if their spirits have been deformed rather than their bodies. In a manner, that is much worse than any physical flaw.” The Obea heaved a great sigh and shut her eyes tightly, as if she could not bear to say what was coming next. ”When I found out I was barren, I was relieved. I didn't want to pa.s.s on the bad blood of the clan.”
”But look at the MacNamara clan,” said Edme. ”They've produced fine wolves and they were founded by MacHeaths.”
”Yes, almost a thousand years ago. The first Namara was a MacHeath wolf named Hordweard. Even to this day, some she-wolves of the MacHeath clan find their way to the MacNamara clan. The name Hordweard, of course, is cursed within our clan.”
”It's not my clan anymore,” Edme said stubbornly. ”Anyway, I never heard the name Hordweard.”
”Well, it's a forbidden word. But it's odd about things like that; the more forbidden, the more attractive they become. Throughout the centuries, there's been a secret Hordweard Society within the MacHeath clan. Sometimes it dies out for generations, but then it reappears and a few she-wolves strong of spirit leave and seek the MacNamara clan.”
By this time, their snow pit had become a puddle. ”Isn't this weather odd?” said Airmead. ”It was very clever of you to play on the clan's superst.i.tions about such things. It might divert their anger for a while.”
”You mean about my rejection of the clan.”
”Yes. All they've ever wanted is representation at the Watch, you know.”
”I didn't want to tell them who told me about my eye.”
”They'll find out. They always do.”
”What will they do if they find out what you told me?” Edme asked.
”It won't matter.”
”Why not?”
”I'll be gone.” Airmead hesitated but then continued, ”I think I'm one of the last members of the Hordweard Society. And I plan to seek out the MacNamara clan. I've had it with the MacHeaths. It took me a while to get my courage up to leave, because if they find out, they'll set a byrrgis on me and kill me. Tear me apart.”
”Were there other members before you?”
”One.”
”Who was it?” Edme asked.
Airmead's eyes were such a green that they were clear, almost translucent. She looked at Edme, and her jaw began to tremble.
”Who?” Edme pressed.
”Your mother, Edme.”
Edme felt a dizzying nausea swirl up within her. She shut her eyes.
Airmead continued, ”Your mother's name was Akira. She left when they tore your eye out.”
”Did she make it to the MacNamara clan?”
Airmead's head dropped and she shook it sadly. ”She was brave, Edme. Oh, my, she was brave. That scar that runs across the chieftain's face down to his neck?”
Edme nodded.
”That was what she did to him. She was going for his eye as he had gone for yours.”
CHAPTER SEVEN.
TATTERS.
FAOLAN GASPED. ”YOUR MOTHER gave Dunbar MacHeath his scar?” Edme nodded at him. They had met up again near the marsh where they'd seen the frost-covered spiderweb. Faolan was dizzy with what Edme had told him. The false tummfraw. Her maiming. Her mother's courage and Edme's own courage in rejecting her clan.
”There was one more thing I forgot to tell you,” Edme said.
More! Faolan thought. What more could there be?
”I never realized how truly superst.i.tious the MacHeaths are. But when it started to snow, I took a chance because they were all pretty tipsy on Litha juice and I thought it might play to my advantage. I wanted them confused.”