Raging Star

Tommo an some nettlecord twine.

Don’t rush to judgement. Things ain’t always what they appear to be. Somebody could of borrowed the cord. Whoever’s guilty could be settin the cord maker up to be the fall guy.

Who’d set Tommo up fer the fall guy? Who’s bin hostile to me all along? Who’d love to see me fail? Who thinks we’d all be better off if he was in charge?

Be who we need or stand aside.

Creed is who. An, after all, it was Creed I sent in search of Nero. Creed who claimed he couldn’t find him, even though a few minutes later Emmi found him in the burrow. Creed could of easily planned it an used Tommo’s cord without his knowledge. An that look he gave me afterwards. Jest a flash an then gone. Like he was holdin a knife to my throat.

Who do I know least of everybody? Creed. Who would I trust least? Creed. Who does Nero go to least? Creed, Creed, Creed.

My thoughts turn an twist. I poke a bit of biscuitroot through the bars of the cage next to me. The little wallafinch prisoner flits about, chirpin.

If Peg’s birds feel dismay at their jail-cell life, you’d never know. They sing jest the same. I got a strong desire to set ’em free, like in my dream. But Peg would boot us from the Lanes an that ’ud be our sanctuary lost. The finch don’t want the food. I lift the latch an open the door. One bird. I’ll chance the flack.

Off you go, I tell it. She’ll never notice.

It hops to the door, then away agin, then back. Its head cocks this way an that. Its bright black eyes consider the new possibility in front of it.

Go on, I says. I’m doin you a favour. Do it. Go.

With a chirp it’s off on quicksilver wings. To blaze out its fire of a life. A bird knows what to do with freedom. It’s born knowin. I watch till it’s gone from sight. Then I stand up an throw its metal prison. Fling it to the air with all the strength of all my hate fer cages. I watch as it tumbles, end over end, to land smash on the nearest junkheap.

One bird. One cage. It ain’t nowhere near enough. But it’s somethin. It’s somethin.

NIGHT FOUR

I SET EMMI TO WORK CLEANIN AN OILIN OUR WEAPONS. IT ain’t necessary. We keep our gear in good nick. It’s jest what you do. What everybody does, unless you got yer attic to let. But, keepin in mind what Slim said, it’s good fer Em to feel useful somehow. She sure cain’t be trusted with no more than this. I tell her to count our stock, oil the shooters, try makin a few new arrows if need be. I don’t intend us to hafta use none of it, but better to be ready than not.

I leave her settlin into her task with good cheer. Peg keeps her company, warmin her gnarled root toes by the stove an puffin on a long clay pipe. Tracker’s mad keen to come with us, but he’s the best patrol fer the Lanes while we’re all away. Slim an Molly made a quick start to Nass Camp.

As night begins to gather, me an Lugh an Tommo prepare to ride fer Edenhome.

I’m convinced now that Creed’s to blame fer that trick with Nero. He was angry at me fer the mess at the bridge. Wanted to shake everybody’s confidence in me jest that bit more. Look, she runs a sloppy ship, she let her sister off guard duty an the Tonton got that close to us we could of all bin dead. She ain’t no leader. I am.

It all makes sense. It all fits. But I’ll test Tommo. Jest once, jest a little. So I can say I did if Slim asks. Do one thing an see what happens. Action. Reaction.

I pretend I’ve mislaid my cord. I ask Tommo to borrow his. He hands it over with a smile. The very coil that a piece was cut from to tether Nero. I put it back in his pack right away. Tommo cain’t ever hide how he feels. His big dark eyes always tell all. As he hands me the cord, they tell me that he’s honest an true. That he ain’t got nuthin to hide. Tommo didn’t do it.

Creed did.

We ain’t gone more’n a league from Starlight Lanes when a caw caw cracks the dusktide. It’s Nero. He’s a wide-winged blackness, coastin down towards me. My heart drops to my boots. I completely fergot. I sent him with a message fer Jack to meet me tonight. I bin frettin an thinkin about who might of tethered him an never gave a thought to my crow hisself. There’s bin so much gone on, with the fights an all, an I’m so used to him bein around but not always seein him that he went right outta my mind. He’s bin gone fer ages.

He surfs in to land on my shoulder an I hustle him into my arms. I quickly slip the bark roll from his leg. I shove it in my shirt without lookin. No need. Jack’s returned the roll I sent him, but tied to Nero’s left leg. That means he’ll be there. At Edenhome.

My stupid stupid head. I don’t believe it. I got Lugh an Tommo with me an Jack’s gonna show too. The three of ’em. Together. With me. At Edenhome. No way, no no no. They mustn’t find out about Jack. Slim was right. I was too tired. I must still be. No sleep means I make mistakes. Bad mistakes.

I’d stop right now an send the boys back if it wouldn’t make ’em suspicious an cause ructions. What to do, what to do, what the hell am I gonna do?

Brazen it out. That’s what. Or, as Jack would say, I hafta wing it.

Emmi had to move quickly. If she didn’t hurry, the songs of their passing would fade and she’d lose them. She was going after them. She didn’t have a plan, not yet. But she would.

So far, she’d been nothing but a trouble and a let down. A child when they needed a warrior. More than anything, she wanted to be worthy of being Saba’s sister. She needed to honour the sacrifices of Pa and Maev and Epona. And Ike and Bram and Jack. Auriel’s grandfather, Namid the Stardancer, was a warrior and a shaman. That’s what she wanted to be.

Warriors proved themselves in the fight. She had everything to prove. She’d been working with her bow till she couldn’t lift her arms for tiredness. Between that and the earthsongs to ground her feet, she was on her way to becoming a good archer. But Saba said they weren’t fighting with weapons anymore. They were fighting with cool heads. Thinking, then planning, then taking action. There had to be something she could do that nobody else could. That would allow her to stand tall among them, the living and the dead.

She and Peg were cosy sitting next to the stove, with the stack of shooters to be oiled and all else Saba asked her to do. Enough work to keep them busy into the great beyond, said Peg. We’ll have a song, a song to sing us along.

She wound the key of the magical music cage. They watched and listened as the tiny finch sang. Then she told Peg she couldn’t keep the cage. With a shrug, Peg gave her back what Tommo had traded for it. He’d be hurt, but not surprised. They’d argued back and forth since the night of her party. He knew what she thought and she was right. He couldn’t give away something so precious. He’d thank her for it one day.

She started yawning. Not too much, just enough. Peg soon said, nighty night little bird. The old gal was yawning herself. With any luck, she’d doze off. She surprised her with a goodnight hug.

She went to the boys’ sleepshed and left Tommo’s bracelet inside his pack. On top of his things where he’d be sure to find it. He’d kept it hidden away for too long, like his memories. He should wear it. If you bring a hurt into the light, in time the light will fade it some.

Then she hurried to the girls’ shed. She’d made her scanty arrangements earlier. As soon as she heard that Lugh and Tommo would be going with Saba to Edenhome. She didn’t think Peg would check on her, but still. In the shadows, the blanket over her pack would pass for a girl curled up asleep. She’d packed the pockets of her coat with the necessaries, nothing more. Flint and steel, red gizmo knife, her birthday comb from Molly and a lump of nettlecake. She grabbed it and ran to the stables.