Mercedes Lackey - Owlsight

Nervously, the two would-be shamans dropped their painted shields as ineffective, and took up spears instead. The leader, however, waved them back, and addressed the party again.

:He says that if we are not demons, then he demands that we meet him in daylight.: Now Tyrsell’s mind-voice held a grudging admiration. :Pretty brave fellow, to stand up to us like this.:

Whatever the answer was from the contact party, Darian didn’t hear it; he only got Tyrsell’s third (and final) announcement. :Because we are just, we give you leave to defend your actions, and time to choose your words with care,: Tyrsell said sternly. : Look for us by dawnlight.:

The party backed up, one slow step at a time - then there was another explosion of purposefully blinding light and blare of horns - and when silence and darkness descended again, the party had “vanished.” At least, they had as far as the barbarians were concerned.

In actual fact, of course, they simply rode or flew away, but with their eyes dazzled and ears ringing, the barbarians wouldn’t have seen that.

Darian waited until the allies were safely behind the Skybolts’ lines before making his own move - which was to return to the barbarian camp to see if he could make out what their reaction was.

Although he couldn’t understand a word they said, some things were clear enough. The children and most of the women were absolutely terrified, but not all. Several hardy souls among the women rallied - and railed at - their more timid sisters, suggesting to Darian that the older ones had seen magic before and knew the difference between show and substance.

And they aren’t afraid of magic, which means. . . what? That it’s never been used successfully against them?

Among the men, only the younger ones were cowed; virtually all the males of Dalian’s age and older had gotten over their shock and gathered around the three leaders, deep in a council of their own. And once the hardier women had calmed the rest, they joined the council circle as well!

It was possible for Darian, watching through Kuari’s eyes, to infer some things - most notably, a sense of caution, in the intonations of those who spoke, in the postures of those who listened. Finally he decided that he had seen and heard enough, and retreated behind his own lines.

“They’re not as scared as we’d like,” he reported, as he dropped down out of the tree into the midst of his own war council.

“But not aggressive either?” Kero asked quickly.

“Not aggressive, at least not at the moment,” Darian confirmed. “They’ve seen showy magic before, I’d bet on it.”

“On to the next phase, then,” Snowfire said. “We approach at dawn, and see what they have to say for themselves.” He looked up at the tree branches above his head. “Dawn isn’t that far off; we won’t have long to wait.”

In the mist and still, pale gray of dawn, the contact group approached the barbarian camp once again - this time without the lights and noise. They stopped a bit further away, however, just out of arrow-shot range, where Kelvren joined them.

A cautious deputation approached from the encampment, but not immediately. From the haggard faces and dark-circled eyes, it appeared that the barbarians had gotten no more sleep than the allies. Once again, Darian was in the tree branches, but hidden better this time, and without Kuari. The eagle-owls had no advantage during daylight, except for show; Darian was here to satisfy his own restlessness, not as a primary scout. That duty had gone to Wintersky, Ravenwing, and their bondbirds.

It appeared that at least they were going to be treated as important enough for the barbarians to put on their best finery, for the deputation jingled and clattered with every approaching step. In their own way, they are impressive, he thought, peering through his screen of leaves. The oldest man - possibly the chieftain - had donned a fur cloak of the pelt of a huge cat, with the fully preserved head of its original owner acting as the hood. Their leather tunics and breeks were as well-constructed as Tayledras scout gear, and though they jangled with amulets and jewelry, and their decorations were a bit garish for Darian’s taste, they were no worse than the Shin’a’in, who had never seen a color they didn’t love. But they weren’t wearing armor, and there was still no sign of that eclipse-amulet Darian recalled only too well. Unless they were supposed to be sacrificial lambs, they weren’t expecting to meet with physical force in this parley.

This time, the allies intended to wait for the barbarians to speak first, so they waited with expressionless faces, still mounted, as the strangers approached. They, in their turn, stopped well short of the contact party; the leader cleared his throat ostentatiously when no one spoke, mind-to-mind or otherwise, and began what sounded, from the measured cadences, like a prepared speech.

:This is the Clan of the Ghost Cat,: Tyrsell interpreted, and with that name, images - of a huge, fierce, and reclusive predator, and of something else, a fleeting shadow by day, a call in the night, a trusted presence that guided. . . . :They claim their totem animal led them here, and by that sign from their gods, they say it is their right to stay. I must admit, as a defense, it has the benefit of being unique and probably unprovable.:

After a pause to confer, Tyrsell replied. :Whether or not that is true, you are in our land, where our gods hold sway, and our laws decree the measure of what is and is not to be.:

This time the leader went on at some length, with many broad and flamboyant gestures. :He wants to know by what right we claim this land; says that there are no boundary markers, no claiming poles to show that we speak the truth. If this land was ever settled by the hole-dwelling people and diggers-of-dirt - that is us, by the way - it has been abandoned for decades and should belong to anyone for the taking.: The leader’s voice grew bolder, possibly because the contact-party hadn’t struck him down. :He has no idea that it is me doing the talking, by the way. He thinks it is either Firesong or Starfall. Kelvren impresses him, but he thinks Kel is something we’ve tamed.:

Kel remained unruffled, fixing the speaker with his unblinking gaze.

:Now he tells us how huge and strong his clan is, how many warriors they have, how many battles they fought.: Tyrsell paused a moment. :This is partly a bluff; something - a disease - drove them out of their own lands, and they ran rather than face a foe they had no hope of beating.:

This time Darian heard Starfall’s reply. :Tell him his own numbers,: the mage said, with grim humor :Let’s see how he reacts to the fact that we know his strength down to the last baby.:

Tyrsell did just that, and Darian had the satisfaction of seeing the barbarian leader shaken. But he recovered quickly, and spoke again. :Now he says that we should know that even the babies of his Clan are fighters, that if we come against them and try to force them out of the place their totem has brought them to, even the babies will take up bows and swords and slay our men.: Tyrsell pawed the ground, roused in spite of himself. :There’s no doubt; he means to stay, and he’ll make it cost us dearly to be rid of him. His people are desperate, and that’s dangerous.:

Darian hadn’t needed that last admonition; he knew for himself just how dangerous a desperate person was.

:We do not need to use the spear or the sword to rid ourselves of pests,: Tyrsell replied loftily, and Darian sensed Firesong’s hand in his phrasing. :As any should know who once had the misfortune to dare the Killing Trees of the north. We had hoped that the foolishly bold and suicidal had learned to keep a wary distance from our lands by now.: