Spirit's Chosen by Esther Friesner Page A

small ripples of discontent here and there among our clanfolk. Like the outspoken guard, many of them recalled Lady Tsuki. My chieftess-shaman aunt was long dead but still infamous for having used her otherworldly powers to intimidate the people. The stares directed at me became hostile.
    Another one of our nobles spoke up: “The Ookami took everything from us, but at least they let us keep our customs, our
heritage
, given to us from the time this land was new! If we deny them, we deny ourselves. If we abandon them over a girl’s trick, we dishonor our ancestors and tempt the displeasure of the gods.”
    The crowd buzzed with fresh muttering. My opponents accused me of trying to terrify the people, yet they were doing just that themselves. If Master Michio spared my mother’s life, there was a chance that our clan would rise up against him and carry out their own judgment. They might hold back from enforcing the cruel full measure of the law, but there was no guarantee of that. At the very least, they would make Master Michio suffer for having taken a stand against them.
    I can’t let that happen
, I thought.
Not to Mama, not to Master Michio. If I let my people shed innocent blood, then the gods themselves will condemn them to a murderer’s fate. No. Never. By my life, with the spirits’ help or without it, I will not let that be
.
    “My lords!” I called out, opening my arms to all my people. “I swear before you that what happened here was not my doing and certainly no trick. I know as little as you do to explain what happened. Yes, I have walked in the realm of the spirits, but I never once tried to summon the dead. If I do possess that power, I give you my sacred and binding oath that I will never misuse it in Lady Tsuki’s fashion. I have not served you as a shaman for very long, but even so, have I ever used my skills except to help you?”
    The unfriendly tone of the whispers softened. My clan knew I spoke the truth, but most of them were still afraidto take my side. The seed of their fear was planted deep:
Deny the law, and you dishonor the ancestors. Dishonor the ancestors, and you displease the gods. Displease the gods, and you doom the Matsu
. I would have to work hard to root out such a deadly weed.
    “I do not tell you to discard our customs,” I went on. “I only ask that we follow their guidance with mercy and understanding. When you are gripped by a fever, can you control it? Can you compel your body to stop burning and trembling? Then you must understand how it is with my mother: She cannot control the madness that has made her ill from the day the Ookami stole her little son. Were our ancestors heartless? They would feel pity for her grief, her shattered heart, her tangled mind. If we fail to show her the same compassion,
that
is how we truly dishonor their spirits. If we do not show mercy now, why should the gods ever grant mercy to us?”
    I lowered my arms. My whole body wanted to shake, but I forced myself to stand firm and keep gazing steadily into the eyes of the clan elders in charge of my unhappy mother. These were men who had seen me grow up from a nursing infant to a boisterous child to a friendless girl. I had tugged on their whiskers and made them laugh when I grasped their fingers with small, sticky hands. They might never accept me as their equal in authority, but I needed to make them hear me speak as someone worthy of their respect. Standing there, waiting, I overheard many whispers telling me that my words had moved many of our clan, but they were from commoners, accustomed to let the noblesguide their lives. I had to make these elders see things my way. I had to hold my ground.
    The old men looked away from me and began to confer intently among themselves. One of them beckoned Masa and spoke to him briefly. I wanted to sing with joy when I saw my older brother nod, then kneel to pick up Mama and carry her away.
    They heeded me! She’s safe! Thank the gods, she’s—!
    My