“My Lord.” Ushahin cleared his throat. “There is one way.”
“What?”
He flinched under the Shaper’s regard. “Ask the Ellyl. Put her to questioning. I cannot breach Malthus’ defenses, my Lord. I have tried. It may be she knows his plans.”
Tanaros shifted, disturbed.
“No.” The Shaper shook his head. Deep in their throats, ravens muttered. “I am a Shaper, one of the Seven. Let my Elder Brother name me what he will; I will not play into his hands by accepting the role he has allotted me. He holds his pride dearer than I, yet I am not without honor. Would you see it stripped from me? My Elder Brother has made a move, and I have countered it. I will not become the monster he has named me.”
Frustration surfaced in Ushahin’s crooked gaze. “It is better to live a monster than to die with honor, my Lord!”
“No.” There was finality in Lord Satoris’ deep voice. “She is a guest, Dreamspinner, and to be treated as such. I will not allow aught else.”
“My Lord …”
“I said no.”
SEVENTEEN
Sunlight slanted through the apple trees in the orchards of Malumdoorn.
It was an unlikely setting for a meeting of such moment. Carfax only wished he knew what it was about. The Dwarfs had assembled en masse, awaiting them, standing in wary ranks amid the gnarled apple trees.
Hobard, they greeted with respect, giving evidence of a long-standing agreement between their folk and the scions of Malumdoorn. The surly young knight glowed at the attention, in his element.
Yrinna’s Peace, Carfax thought. It was the bargain the Dwarfs had made, taking no part in the battles that divided the Lesser Shapers. Eschewing Lord Satoris’ Gift, they were parsimonious with carnal pleasure, and bore only enough children to ensure their own continuance. In turn, they asked only the freedom to tend the land, making it fruitful as Yrinna Sixth-Born had willed it.
This was the bargain old Vedasian families such as Hobard’s had struck, offering protection and noninterference for the goodwill of Yrinna’s Children, who made their orchards fruitful.
What now threatened it?
“Earth-Tenders.” Malthus’ voice was soft and soothing: he spread his arms, indicating he held naught but his staff. “You know who I am. And you know what I have come for.”
The Dwarfs murmured, a low sound like the wind through apple leaves.
“We know.” A Dwarf elder stumped forward, thrusting out his stubborn chin. Tangled beard, aggressive eyes, honest dirt ingrained in his hands. “You bring war, Counselor. You breach Yrinna’s Peace. Why? Why should we heed you?”
“Because Satoris Banewreaker will hold sway over the whole of Urulat if you do not,” Malthus said steadily. “Is that your wish, Earth-Tender Haldol? To see the soil of Yrinna’s bosom poisoned with his dripping venom? It shall come to pass, and no seed may grow untainted, no blossom bear fruit.”
It was not true. In the long years that Staccia had held an allegiance with Lord Satoris, its lands had come to no harm. His Lordship sought only to live unmolested by Haomane’s Wrath. Carfax opened his mouth in protest, found his tongue hopelessly stilled, useless as a dried root. Bright sparks burned in the Elder Haldol’s eyes, doubt nurtured by the Counselor.
“We do not take part in the Shapers’ War,” the Dwarf said.
“Oh, but you do.” Malthus the Counselor’s voice was soft, sweet and cunning. “Yrinna’s Children deny it, yes. But you have withheld that which is not yours, and so doing, you aid the Enemy. Our greatest Enemy, he who would scorch the earth.”
“So you say.” The Dwarf Elder rubbed his chin. “So you say. We have a test, Counselor, for those who would claim Yrinna’s favor. Is your Company willing to attempt the Greening?”
“It is,” Malthus said steadily.
There was a stirring among the Dwarfs, a parting of the ranks. From the rear of the gathering, two approached, bearing an object with reverence. Male and female, they were, gnarled as roots, with eyes that shone at the sanctity of their office. Carfax craned his head to see what they carried.
A staff, like unto Malthus’ own, but untrimmed—a dead branch wrenched whole from the tree. Twigs it sprouted, and a few desiccated leaves, shriveled and brown. Haldol the Elder received it with both hands, raised it to touch his lips to the rough bark before planting it like a spear in the orchard soil of Malumdoorn, driving the butt-end into the earth.
It stood like a standard, brittle and ash-grey.
“The challenge of the Greening is begun,” said Haldol.
“So mote it be.” Malthus bowed his head and grasped the Soumanie.
“No.” The Dwarf’s voice was sharp. “You are Haomane’s weapon, Counselor, and bear his tools. What the Souma may accomplish, we know too well. It is Yrinna’s will the Greening seeks to divine. We shall choose among your Company who shall attempt it.” His deepset gaze roamed over the Company. “You,” he said abruptly, pointing a thick finger at Dani. “The least among them. Let us see if Yrinna favors you.”
“Earth-Tender—” Malthus glowered, the Soumanië flickering.
“It is as it shall be.” The Dwarf Haldol crossed his arms, backed by his people. “Do you gainsay it, Counselor? Son of Malumdoorn, what say you, who brought them here?”
Hobard of Malumdoorn cast a bitter sidelong glance at the young Yarru-yami. “Malthus, I came in faith to Meronil to bring you these tidings, but as I am Vedasian, my sworn oaths are to Yrinna’s Children. I abide by their demands. You drove us into the Unknown to secure the Charred lad, risking all our lives to find him. Let him answer for it, if it is their will.”
Ranked behind the dead branch thrust like a challenge into the earth, the Dwarfs waited. Malthus’ Company shifted, awaiting the Counselor’s decision. Carfax watched them all. Blaise Caveros was tense, small muscles moving along his clenched jaw. The Ellyl, Peldras, was at once watchful and tranquil. There was hunger in the eyes of Fianna the Archer, desperate and keen.
Why, Carfax wondered?
As for the Yarru, they whispered together, fat uncle Thulu bending his head to the boy’s ear, lips moving. What was he saying? Why was the boy smiling? Did he not realize, Carfax thought in frustration, he was naught but a pawn?
“So be it!” Malthus’ voice cracked like thunder, then softened. “Dani. Try. You can but try, lad.”
That he did, Dani of the Yarru, earnest of face, approaching the dead branch in all seriousness. He reminded Carfax, unexpectedly, of Turin, the young Staccian in his command. He’d taken his duties thus seriously, Turin had, given the difficult task of impersonating an Ellyl maiden. It had galled him to be left out of their ill-fated attack on the Company of Malthus. Remembering the barrows of grass where his comrades had fallen, Carfax was glad he’d spared the lad. He wondered if the young Staccian and his two companions had made it safely to Beshtanag, and hoped they had. In the silence of his locked tongue Carfax hoped, very much, that Lord Satoris’ plans were uncompromised.
Dani squatted before the branch, laying hands upon it.
Pale and weathered and grey, the dead wood; the boy’s palms were pale too, lined and weathered. He cupped them together, and the radiating lines met to form a star in the hollow of his palms. He bowed his ragged head as if listening, and his uncle, his fat uncle, chanted low under his breath, grinning. Blaise raised an eyebrow. The Archer bit her lip. In the orchard, with the sweet smell of sun-warmed apples in the air, the Dwarfs gathered close, watching.
Dani uncorked the vial at his neck.
One drop; one drop of water he let gather at the lip of the vial. One drop. And it smelled—oh, Shapers! Carfax inhaled deeply, unable to help himself. It smelled … like water. Like life, dense and condensed, mineral-rich. It swelled, gathering roundness, shining bright as steel. Swelled, rounded …