Greendaughter (Book 6) (7 page)

Chapter Seven

The Inner Heart village was much quieter in the early morning when Valann and Chyrie met the four humans again in Rowan’s speaking hut. Most of the village’s elves, sated by the previous night’s revels, were still asleep. A few, however, roused themselves to lay a few platters of cold meat, fruit, and nuts in the speaking hut.

Rowan and Dusk looked anything but rested; judging from their drawn faces and shadowed eyes, they had spent a frantic night.

When they had all gathered, Rowan spread out the same map she had shown the night before; now, however, it contained many more clan symbols than it had.

“We managed to contact many clans,” she said. “Hopefully they, in turn, will contact others. Some have responded to my request for a meeting. Others”—she glanced at Valann and Chyrie—“have not. I will continue to try, of course. There is nothing else to be done.”

Sharl leaned forward.

“With respect, lady,” he said, “I am as concerned for my people as you are for yours. Surely you can sympathize with that. Will you allow me to plead that whatever becomes of us, that at least I can send a warning to my folk, as you have to yours?”

Rowan ignored him.

“I fairly took you as my prisoners,” she said to Valann and Chyrie. “You asked the price of your release. Are you prepared to abide by my judgment, both of yourselves and of these humans?”

“We are, Grandmother,” Valann said quietly, “under your promise of justice and safety for myself and my mate, and the lives she carries.”

“Nothing concerns me more than the safety of your mate and her unborn children,” Rowan said quietly. “In the times to come we may all need the inspiration of seeing the blessing of the Mother Forest made flesh to sustain us.”

She turned to Sharl.

“That you and your companions trespassed upon lands not your own and upon the sacred ground of the Forest Altars, and that you spilled blood in violation of the peace bond there, I am willing to forgive, for by doing so you preserved the lives of two precious to us,” she said. “However, you are charged with abducting and bespelling the Wildings Valann and Chyrie. Honorable capture and ransom are a custom of the forest; however, your actions took place under the guise of food and fire, a very serious offense, indeed. Moreover, by your actions you interfered with the process of reproduction and endangered an elf who was certainly fertile and possibly with child, and there is no more serious transgression known in the forest.

“Your scheming to use Valann and Chyrie as hostages against a battle alliance and trade agreement are another matter,” Rowan said slowly. “Though your actions gall me, they violate no law of my people or custom of the forest. You owe no loyalty to out-kin, no more than we to you. Therefore your only offenses are against Valann and Chyrie, and by our custom they are entitled to exact whatever penalty they see fit with their own hand.”

Valann smiled grimly.

“A wise custom, indeed!”

“However,” Rowan said, gazing sternly at Valann, “as Valann and Chyrie have, as my prisoners, remanded both their fate and yours into my judgment, I will determine your penance, and this is what I have decided:

“That the four humans, Sharl, Rivkah, Romuel, and Doria will return to their city—”

What?” Valann roared. “Is this the justice you—”

“Be silent,” Dusk said quietly, but with authority, “or you will be removed.”

Valann glowered, but said no more.

“The four humans will return to their city,” Rowan repeated, “under a geas of our making. Under that geas, they will render unto the elves of the Heartwood every assistance, including weapons and supplies, and they will agree to shelter in the city, during any time of battle or disaster, the children, elderly, and infirm of our people, and any females who are ripe or with child for their protection. The humans will not tell their people of this judgment or of the geas, but will act as if of their own accord, and when any conflict is ended, if they still live, will return to the forest to act as hostages against a trade agreement favorable to the elves.”

Valann sighed heavily, but nodded.

“I see your wisdom, Grandmother,” he said. “I do not like it, but I can agree with it.”

“I have not yet finished dispensing it,” Rowan said, though she smiled. “And I fear you will like it even less, for I wish you and Chyrie to return to the human city with them.”

Val gaped, shocked to utter silence, but Chyrie growled her outrage.

“You cannot be serious,” she said. “First they would make us hostages, and now you would! Is this our justice, that we have gained nothing?”

Rowan shook her head, and reached over to touch Chyrie’s cheek.

“You are one I would have safe behind stone walls and many swords,” she said. “And we must have an envoy among the humans, one who can be trusted. And you are a beast-speaker who can send and receive messages between the two peoples. If you, who must be protected in any wise, will serve that purpose, then another beast-speaker can be spared to remain in the forest and continue our work here. Do you understand?”

“I understand that I must return to stand with my clan,” Chyrie said angrily. “I understand that my unborn children belong to me, to Valann, and to their clan, not to you or your people. We are not air and water, to belong to all alike. That I understand.”

“Then perhaps you will also understand this,” Rowan said quietly. “You are, by your own admission, fairly my prisoners and under my command. Remember that.”

Chyrie ground her teeth, but sat back down beside Valann.

“Yes, Grandmother,” she said quietly.

“I like this deal no better than Chyrie does,” Sharl protested. “My people will have enough problems preparing for war without having to worry about the elves as well.”

“I could say the same of my folk,” Rowan said serenely. “But that did not trouble
you
when you laid your plans to use us. Now we will use you in the same manner, and if it causes you difficulty, I do not grieve for it.”

“What are we supposed to do with them?” Sharl demanded. “None of my people speak their language, any more than they speak ours.”

“You learned our language by magic,” Rowan said to Rivkah, who looked up, amazed. “Can you teach it so?”

“How did you—” Rivkah shook her head. “I don’t think so. My mentor did it, and he’s much stronger than me. I know the spell, but it’s not my—my area of skill.”

“Then Dusk will lend his power to yours,” Rowan said, “as well as to ensure you work no mischief with your sorcery. After you have accepted our geas, of course.”

Sharl scowled at Valann, who returned his glare. Rivkah glanced tentatively at Chyrie, who sighed explosively.

“You said yourself that the abduction of Valann and Chyrie were the only crimes you would charge us with,” Sharl said persuasively. “Romuel and Doria had no part in that. Let them go back to Allanmere free of your geas, and you can do as you like with Rivkah and myself.”

Rowan laughed.

“You are truly a leader,” she said. “You think as I would—to yet have your people warned with no encumbrances upon them. But I will not have it. To succeed you must still ally with us, and that you will do on my terms or none. And even for your people to pass through the rest of the forest you must have the safe conduct I have bargained with the other clans, and that I will not give unless you consent.”

“I am all the hostage you need,” Sharl argued. “Let the others go free.”

“I will not,” Rowan said firmly. “You are too ready to sacrifice yourself, and I do not trust your mage. There will be no bargain. You will all take my geas or none.”

“And what of Valann and Chyrie?” Sharl demanded. “What geas will you place upon them?”

“None,” Rowan said. “As any beast-speaker knows, you cannot bind a wild one. You can only ask, and pray that it will trust you enough to obey.” She looked significantly at Chyrie.

Valann and Chyrie exchanged sober glances.

(What are your thoughts?)
Chyrie asked.

(She has a Matriarch’s wisdom,)
Valann thought
. (Her reasoning is sound.)

“We will obey, Grandmother,” Chyrie said reluctantly, and Valann nodded.

“And your answer?” Dusk asked Sharl.

Sharl frowned, then sighed.

“We have no choice,” he said. “For my people to be warned, I have no choice but to accept your terms.”

“That is true,” Rowan said serenely. She nodded to Dusk, who poured wine from a small skin into four goblets.

“As you bespelled my kinsfolk’s wine, we have done the same,” Rowan said. “This is the geas you will accept. You will treat Valann and Chyrie with every respect. You will not seek to harm or confine or restrain them in any way, and you will cast no magic upon either of them except at their request. You will make every effort to make them recompense for your actions against them. You will house and protect any elves we send to you and treat them with every courtesy. You will trade weapons and supplies with us on terms I will set. You will tell no other of your actions against Valann and Chyrie or of this geas, and you will make no effort, magical or otherwise, to break the geas. When the battle is over, if any of you survive, you will return to Inner Heart to act as hostages against the negotiation of a permanent agreement between the forest and the city. Those are the terms I set upon you. Drink, and it is done.”

Sharl spoke at some length to his companions in the human tongue, then slowly raised his glass and drank. Rivkah drank with less hesitation, and Romuel and Doria, watching Sharl, also drank. When they finished, Doria said something, and Rivkah laughed wryly.

“She says”—the mage chuckled—“that if we can at least bargain for some of your excellent wine, there will be one thing about this journey she won’t regret.”

“Let us hope there will be other joyful memories before it is done,” Rowan sighed. She turned to Rivkah. “Come, mage, a spell so that my kinsfolk will not be lonely in a place where they can neither speak to nor understand its people.”

Rivkah hesitated. “I haven’t had much experience with mages combining power,” she said.

“I have,” Dusk assured her.

“Then—” She glanced at Valann and Chyrie. “You have to ask me to cast the spell.”

Valann and Chyrie exchanged glances again, this time more doubtfully.

“I ask it,” Valann said at last. “You will cast your magic on me first.”

“No,” Chyrie protested. “I will be the first.”

“You will
not”
Valann said firmly. “You are with child.”

“I am your mate,” Chyrie said stubbornly, setting her jaw.

“All right. Don’t argue. Somebody has to be first, and it might as well be Valann.” Rivkah took another swallow of wine to fortify herself. “It should be a little easier this time, because I can give you the language from myself instead of having to take it from someone else. Valann, if you’ll stand in front of me—”

Valann reluctantly obeyed, and Rivkah laid one hand on his head, one across the front of his throat. Dusk laid his hands over Rivkah’s and nodded.

Rivkah began chanting steadily, her eyes half closed in concentration. Slowly her voice deepened, taking on a singsong quality. Chyrie felt the tingle of magic growing within her; without warning, she stretched out her awareness for Valann’s thoughts as she had a thousand times before, and
reached.

Magic swirled upward from Dusk, from Rivkah, and into Valann—and from him into Chyrie. Blurred, confused fragments of imagery blinked through both minds like flashes of lightning. Gradually the confusing bombardment slowed as Rivkah’s voice raised again, and she stopped.

“That was easier than I thought,” she said. “Valann, try it.”

“Try what?” Valann asked. He whirled on Chyrie. “If I were to speak,” he said, “it would be to chastise this most stubborn of elves. That was a foolhardy thing to do.”

“What?” Rivkah asked confusedly. “What did she do?”

“They are mates in spirit, and she a beast-speaker accustomed to casting out her mind,” Dusk panted, obviously more wearied than the mage. “She joined him in his thoughts. I felt it. He is right. It was a great risk. I think you have cast two spells for one.”

“But why—” Rivkah began.

“Never mind, never mind,” Sharl interrupted in the human tongue. “We need to leave as quickly as possible, and if they can understand me now, then the language lesson is over and we can go.”

Rivkah glanced at the elves dubiously.

“I understand you,” Valann said in the same language, then raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

“As do I,” Chyrie said, then grimaced. The strange sounds seemed to grate at her throat.

“Good,” Sharl said, unimpressed. He turned to Rowan. “If you will permit us, then, we must be on our way. My people have preparations to make, no less than yours—more, if we are to fulfill the terms you have set upon us. Will you allow us to leave, so that we waste no more riding light?”

“You may go,” Rowan said calmly. “Your riding beasts await you, and we have replenished your supplies of food and drink, and given you gifts and samples of trade goods to take back to your people with you.”

Sharl stared at her blankly, then scowled.

“You knew I would agree. You knew it all along,” he demanded.

Rowan smiled.

“Naturally I knew,” she said. “No true leader of his people could have chosen otherwise. Take that as praise, if you will, for I cannot fault your courage, nor your loyalty to those who look to you for guidance. Now go to them, and think upon us with what kindness you can.”

Sharl beckoned imperiously to them, and Rivkah, Romuel, and Doria quickly followed; Chyrie and Valann, however, lingered to walk more slowly with Rowan, while Dusk disappeared on some errand.

“Messages have been sent to the clans between here and the city,” Rowan told them. “All but Blue-eyes have answered, agreeing to allow you safe passage.”

“But are the Blue-eyes not the westernmost clan,” Valann asked, “at the very edge of the forest?”

“Yes, and that concerns me,” Rowan said, her brow wrinkling. “Their clan has been most harassed of all by the humans, and at one time, when they lived more to the east, there was an old enmity with us. They are most hostile about their boundaries, and who can fault them for it? But they will not answer our sendings at all. I cannot speak for their behavior.”