before moving down?” Kumul asked. The riders had left the White Wolf clan the day before.
“No,” Korigan answered. “We go down now. There will be a meeting tonight of the clan heads, and I want to see how hard my opponents will push me before they’re aware that Prince Lynan is among us.” She glanced quickly at Kumul. “Or you.”
Kumul did not feign modesty. It had been a long time since his reputation as captain of Elynd Chisal’s Red Shields had given him any pleasure or fed his pride. It was just a fact of his life and had served him better than worse in the years since the end of the Slaver War—it was his reputation that had secured him the position of constable under Queen Usharna. “So you are concerned for Lynan’s safety?” he asked sourly.
“Of course,” she admitted. “But it is time for his Majesty to take these risks.”
Kumul shook his head. “I wish you wouldn’t call him that.”
“Will you stop talking about me as if I wasn’t here?” Lynan said, but without anger. “What is your plan, Korigan?”
“Tonight’s meeting will be a test for me. If it ends in my favor, we announce your presence. If it does not, we keep you a secret; I will not risk your safety unnecessarily.”
“It won’t be a secret once the rest of your clan arrives,” Kumul said. “They will all be eager to tell their news.”
“News is the currency of such gatherings,” Gudon agreed.
“If the meeting goes badly for our cause, your Majesty,” Korigan said, “then I will give you an escort of a thousand warriors to take you back to the east of the Oceans of Grass. There you can follow Kumul’s plan, if you so wish, and I will join you when I may, or you can travel to some other part of the kingdom to find support among the people of Chandra or Hume.”
Lynan said nothing, but his heart felt truly heavy for the first time since recovering from his wounds at the end of summer. He knew if the Chetts did not support him, no one else would, even if they sympathized with his cause: Areava was the rightful queen of Grenda Lear, and none of the rulers among the eastern provinces would willingly stand for Lynan against her.
A hand rested on his arm, and he turned to see Ager looking at him.
“Whatever
happens, Lynan, your friends will stay with you.”
Lynan smiled then, and the weight in his heart eased. “We should go down,” he said lightly. “Let us see how the clans treat a queen.” He bowed a little to Korigan.
Korigan returned the gesture and matched his smile. “Or, indeed, a king,” she said.
On the way to the sooq they rode past three encampments. Lynan, Ager, and Kumul all stayed in the middle of the group, their hats pulled low over their faces. Jenrosa, who was not so differently shaped from the Chetts, and after spending most of the autumn on the plains not much lighter in color, happily rode on the edge, although she had to hide her long sandy hair under a wide-brimmed hat. She was fascinated by the patterns the clans used to decorate their tents and ponchos. There seemed to be no rule to the colors anyone used, but the designs themselves were unique to each clan.
Gudon was riding by her side. “This the Sun clan,” he told her. Their design was a bright yellow circle surrounded by white crooked rays, like lightning flashes. The motif was repeated everywhere within the clan, but with subtle differences: one tent had the motif on a blue field, another in the middle of a series of concentric circles.
“The Sun has long been an ally of the White Wolf,” Gudon continued, “since one enjoys the day and the other the night and they do not get in each other’s way. This next clan is a different matter.”
“Let me guess,” Jenrosa said, laughing. “The Owl clan.” There was no mistaking their motif.
“Yes, and like the White Wolf, a predator of the night. Its chief is Piktar, and he was an enemy of Korigan’s father. That animosity has been passed to my
“No,” Korigan answered. “We go down now. There will be a meeting tonight of the clan heads, and I want to see how hard my opponents will push me before they’re aware that Prince Lynan is among us.” She glanced quickly at Kumul. “Or you.”
Kumul did not feign modesty. It had been a long time since his reputation as captain of Elynd Chisal’s Red Shields had given him any pleasure or fed his pride. It was just a fact of his life and had served him better than worse in the years since the end of the Slaver War—it was his reputation that had secured him the position of constable under Queen Usharna. “So you are concerned for Lynan’s safety?” he asked sourly.
“Of course,” she admitted. “But it is time for his Majesty to take these risks.”
Kumul shook his head. “I wish you wouldn’t call him that.”
“Will you stop talking about me as if I wasn’t here?” Lynan said, but without anger. “What is your plan, Korigan?”
“Tonight’s meeting will be a test for me. If it ends in my favor, we announce your presence. If it does not, we keep you a secret; I will not risk your safety unnecessarily.”
“It won’t be a secret once the rest of your clan arrives,” Kumul said. “They will all be eager to tell their news.”
“News is the currency of such gatherings,” Gudon agreed.
“If the meeting goes badly for our cause, your Majesty,” Korigan said, “then I will give you an escort of a thousand warriors to take you back to the east of the Oceans of Grass. There you can follow Kumul’s plan, if you so wish, and I will join you when I may, or you can travel to some other part of the kingdom to find support among the people of Chandra or Hume.”
Lynan said nothing, but his heart felt truly heavy for the first time since recovering from his wounds at the end of summer. He knew if the Chetts did not support him, no one else would, even if they sympathized with his cause: Areava was the rightful queen of Grenda Lear, and none of the rulers among the eastern provinces would willingly stand for Lynan against her.
A hand rested on his arm, and he turned to see Ager looking at him.
“Whatever
happens, Lynan, your friends will stay with you.”
Lynan smiled then, and the weight in his heart eased. “We should go down,” he said lightly. “Let us see how the clans treat a queen.” He bowed a little to Korigan.
Korigan returned the gesture and matched his smile. “Or, indeed, a king,” she said.
On the way to the sooq they rode past three encampments. Lynan, Ager, and Kumul all stayed in the middle of the group, their hats pulled low over their faces. Jenrosa, who was not so differently shaped from the Chetts, and after spending most of the autumn on the plains not much lighter in color, happily rode on the edge, although she had to hide her long sandy hair under a wide-brimmed hat. She was fascinated by the patterns the clans used to decorate their tents and ponchos. There seemed to be no rule to the colors anyone used, but the designs themselves were unique to each clan.
Gudon was riding by her side. “This the Sun clan,” he told her. Their design was a bright yellow circle surrounded by white crooked rays, like lightning flashes. The motif was repeated everywhere within the clan, but with subtle differences: one tent had the motif on a blue field, another in the middle of a series of concentric circles.
“The Sun has long been an ally of the White Wolf,” Gudon continued, “since one enjoys the day and the other the night and they do not get in each other’s way. This next clan is a different matter.”
“Let me guess,” Jenrosa said, laughing. “The Owl clan.” There was no mistaking their motif.
“Yes, and like the White Wolf, a predator of the night. Its chief is Piktar, and he was an enemy of Korigan’s father. That animosity has been passed to my
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