of the Lofties’ diet. "What kind of feather?"
"That's just it. I've never seen one like it. It's colorful . . . I mean, really colorful, like red and orange and green. I'd like to see the bird this came from. It probably poops rainbows." She puts it in my hand. "Give it to your Lofty. It'll look so pretty in his hair." She's joking, but for the first time I don't feel like her humor is a thin cover for her anger.
I hope our talk brought us back a little closer to the way we were. Best friends. Partners in crime.
But I don't know if it's really possible now after everything that's happened, after all of my choices and hers, and all that could still happen before I leave, maybe forever, for Koolkuna.
CHAPTER TEN
I bounce my legs in front of me. They're stiff from sitting through the meal, and now the meeting, in the brisk evening air. At least I have a relatively full stomach, and the fire is warm and comforting.
I watch the firelight frisk against my perpetual darkness. I asked Marj why the contrast of light and dark is the only thing I can sort of see. She speculated it's because I was sighted, for however short a time, before the Three took my vision. The perception of light was all they left. Thinking about it makes me bitter, but then I remember Nerang’s gentle reminder that being Sightless has also forced me to be strong. I need that strength now.
Bream is doing his best to make a quick meeting long, drawn out, and skull-crushingly boring. He's going on about the progress made by the Confluence. Or lack of it.
"The Council will get to the bottom of who set the fire in the cave and threatened one of our young people," Bream is saying. "Lofty aggression, while certainly having roots in our shared history of mistrust . . ." he stops to clear his voice and blow his nose, prompting a low, "Oh, for the love of—" from Calli, who’s sitting beside me, " . . . is a clear indication of their blatant disregard for our rules and mutual agreements to honor the boundaries of our respective territories. It cannot be tolerated. Of course, this is not the first time the Lofties—"
"Yes, yes, Bream," Vole says. "We know all about the Lofties and their aggression. The question is what the Council plans to do about it?" The crowd murmurs its agreement.
"And what about the fires?" someone else calls out. “Who set them?”
"These are certainly serious questions," Pinion says. " I'm assuming no one wants to admit to setting one or both of the fires?" Silence. "Then I suggest we start with a discussion of how to proceed with the Lofties. The Confluence is indeed in jeopardy. There's no use pretending otherwise. The Lofties will be at least as suspicious of us as we are of them. We don't know yet how they will respond. But do we want to continue our talks with them? What is the will of the people?"
There are sounds of confusion around me. The Three never ask what to do, they tell. This is encouraging, at least to me.
"I've said from the beginning they can't be trusted." It's Thistle, Moray's horrible, meddling mother. I want to stick my fingers in my ears to shut out her piercing voice. "And those who befriend them can't be trusted either.” I bristle, but stay silent. “This talk of negotiations and Convergences hasn't gotten us anywhere. The only thing the Lofties pay attention to is action. Words do no good with them. It's like talking to a young child. In one ear and out the other."
"Maybe they're mentally deficient," a woman jokes.
"We already knew that," Moray says. Others laugh.
"Please stay on task," Fox interrupts. "The Council has decided to try a new approach by asking for your thoughts and opinions . . . don't make us regret it." He says the last with his usual humor, getting a few more chuckles.
My first thought is to speak up and encourage cooperation with the Lofties, but I don't. I'd be dismissed as only interested in defending my intended and his people. I need to lay low, find out where this will
"That's just it. I've never seen one like it. It's colorful . . . I mean, really colorful, like red and orange and green. I'd like to see the bird this came from. It probably poops rainbows." She puts it in my hand. "Give it to your Lofty. It'll look so pretty in his hair." She's joking, but for the first time I don't feel like her humor is a thin cover for her anger.
I hope our talk brought us back a little closer to the way we were. Best friends. Partners in crime.
But I don't know if it's really possible now after everything that's happened, after all of my choices and hers, and all that could still happen before I leave, maybe forever, for Koolkuna.
CHAPTER TEN
I bounce my legs in front of me. They're stiff from sitting through the meal, and now the meeting, in the brisk evening air. At least I have a relatively full stomach, and the fire is warm and comforting.
I watch the firelight frisk against my perpetual darkness. I asked Marj why the contrast of light and dark is the only thing I can sort of see. She speculated it's because I was sighted, for however short a time, before the Three took my vision. The perception of light was all they left. Thinking about it makes me bitter, but then I remember Nerang’s gentle reminder that being Sightless has also forced me to be strong. I need that strength now.
Bream is doing his best to make a quick meeting long, drawn out, and skull-crushingly boring. He's going on about the progress made by the Confluence. Or lack of it.
"The Council will get to the bottom of who set the fire in the cave and threatened one of our young people," Bream is saying. "Lofty aggression, while certainly having roots in our shared history of mistrust . . ." he stops to clear his voice and blow his nose, prompting a low, "Oh, for the love of—" from Calli, who’s sitting beside me, " . . . is a clear indication of their blatant disregard for our rules and mutual agreements to honor the boundaries of our respective territories. It cannot be tolerated. Of course, this is not the first time the Lofties—"
"Yes, yes, Bream," Vole says. "We know all about the Lofties and their aggression. The question is what the Council plans to do about it?" The crowd murmurs its agreement.
"And what about the fires?" someone else calls out. “Who set them?”
"These are certainly serious questions," Pinion says. " I'm assuming no one wants to admit to setting one or both of the fires?" Silence. "Then I suggest we start with a discussion of how to proceed with the Lofties. The Confluence is indeed in jeopardy. There's no use pretending otherwise. The Lofties will be at least as suspicious of us as we are of them. We don't know yet how they will respond. But do we want to continue our talks with them? What is the will of the people?"
There are sounds of confusion around me. The Three never ask what to do, they tell. This is encouraging, at least to me.
"I've said from the beginning they can't be trusted." It's Thistle, Moray's horrible, meddling mother. I want to stick my fingers in my ears to shut out her piercing voice. "And those who befriend them can't be trusted either.” I bristle, but stay silent. “This talk of negotiations and Convergences hasn't gotten us anywhere. The only thing the Lofties pay attention to is action. Words do no good with them. It's like talking to a young child. In one ear and out the other."
"Maybe they're mentally deficient," a woman jokes.
"We already knew that," Moray says. Others laugh.
"Please stay on task," Fox interrupts. "The Council has decided to try a new approach by asking for your thoughts and opinions . . . don't make us regret it." He says the last with his usual humor, getting a few more chuckles.
My first thought is to speak up and encourage cooperation with the Lofties, but I don't. I'd be dismissed as only interested in defending my intended and his people. I need to lay low, find out where this will
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