T Southwell - Children of Another God

"Kuran?" Talsy's brows rose. "But -"

"Talsy…" Chanter shook his head, and she scowled at him, annoyed.

"What?"

The Mujar put aside his plate and took her arm, tugging her from her stool. When they were out of earshot of the Truemen, he stopped and turned to her.

"Tell them nothing of what you know. It's only you I told."

"Why? A Kuran is a forest guardian, not a name."

He nodded. "The Mujar she adopted did not give his real name. A Mujar's name gives a small amount of power to anyone he tells it to, so most are reluctant to give it. The secrets I told you are for you alone, understand? You may tell them my name, because coming from you it gives them no power over me, but nothing else."

"Why did you tell me?"

"Because we had clan bond. If they question you, tell them to ask me. They won't."

She scowled. "You don't trust them?"

"They're not clan."

"They're chosen!"

Chanter said, "Perhaps not all are worthy. The seers did the choosing. They may have made mistakes, or brought their sons and daughters who are not worthy. Many, learning that it would save them, will have pretended to be chosen. We'll have to be careful."

"Surely they wouldn't dare to harm us?"

"When cornered, even the most timid creature will fight more fiercely than you ever thought possible."

"But they're not cornered," she protested. "They're saved!"

"They'll blame Mujar for the deaths of their friends and families, and their hatred will grow stronger than ever. They'll be looking for vengeance."

Talsy gazed up at him with despairing eyes. "Can't you tell if they're chosen?"

"No." He turned away. "Come, let's go back, my food is getting cold."

Talsy trailed after him back to the camp where Sheera waited, looking a little nervous. As the Mujar sat down to continue his meal, she asked, "Did I do something to offend?"

"No."

Sheera relaxed and filled his bowl with another lavish helping of steaming stew. Chanter finished it and thanked her when she would have heaped more into his bowl. Talsy noticed that he spoke the ritual 'gratitude', but did not offer a Wish. A plate of food, she supposed, was not a big enough favour to earn one.

Talsy turned to him. "Will you help the sick man now?"

Sheera protested, "No, child, the Mujar owes him no favour. You cannot ask for such a Wish."

"But he may be one of the chosen, and if so, he's -"

"Have you forgotten our little talk already?" Chanter interrupted.

"No, but -"

"Good." He smiled. "I'll look at him."

Sheera rose and held aside the flap of cloth that covered the shack’s doorway, admitting the Mujar and Talsy. The old woman followed and knelt beside the pallet to peel the bloody dressing from the wound. The ugly injury looked like a spear thrust. It seeped clear fluid, and an area of reddened flesh surrounded it. The man lay as before, his skin beaded with sweat. Chanter knelt beside him and examined him with his eyes, then turned to Sheera.

"Leave us."

The old woman obeyed, pulling the cloth across the door behind her. In the subsequent gloom, the Mujar leant closer to touch the skin at the base of man's throat.

"He's marked."

Talsy glanced at him, then at the jagged scar on man's throat. "What do you mean?"

Chanter traced the scar. "He bears the mark of a Kuran. He has done some great service for a forest soul."

"So he's chosen?"

"He may be the most worthy of all these people, apart from you, of course." He cast her a gentle smile.

Talsy scrambled to her feet. "I'll get some water."

Hurrying out, she almost bumped into Sheera, who stood outside, holding a pail of water. Talsy shot her a smile and took it before returning to Chanter's side. The Mujar filled a cup and poured it onto the wound as he invoked Shissar. The humble shack came alive with soft swirling mist, hissing rain and splashing water mixed with the crash of waves. Chanter laid his hands on the wound, and the seeping redness vanished. The edges drew together and sealed in a pale scar. The man's skin cooled as his fever subsided, and a little colour invaded it.

Chanter sat back as the stranger's eyelids flickered, then opened to reveal the blackest eyes Talsy had ever seen. His expression changed to one of fearful surprise when he spotted Chanter, and he thrust himself back against the wall, banging his head on it. The Mujar watched him with narrowed eyes, and Talsy's heart sank. The man licked his lips, his gaze darting between them.

"Mujar." He hesitated, glancing at Talsy. "Who are you?"

"Friends."

"What's happened? Where am I?"

"You were found wounded in the forest and brought here. We healed you," Talsy explained.

"My people?"

"Dead."

He stared at Chanter. "Why did you help me?"

"You carry the mark of a Kuran. You are one of the chosen."

"Yes." The man ran a hand through his damp hair. "We left our village, but we were attacked in the forest. Could I have some water?"

Talsy gave him a cup of water, and he gulped it down, finishing two more before he turned his attention to his wound and fingered the scar on his flank.

"Why were you marked by a Kuran?" Talsy asked.

"A what?" He looked confused.

"A forest soul."

The man shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You helped a forest."

"I saved one, yes, because I lived in it. A bunch of woodcutters started felling the trees, and I chased them out. In a fit of spite, they set fire to the woods, but I stopped it with a firebreak. Then I taught them a lesson they'd never forget. On the way home, a bolt of lightning struck me."

Chanter nodded, studying the man.

Talsy asked, "Did you save the trees only because you lived amongst them?"

"No, not entirely. I was raised in the forest, I didn't want a bunch of idiots cutting it down."

"Do you hate Mujar?"

"No." He shot Chanter a wary glance. "My father was friends with one. He used to take me into the woods as a child. He taught me many things about the trees and animals. When I was eleven, he was taken to a Pit."

"What's your name?" Talsy ignored Chanter's hard look.

"Kieran."

Talsy smiled and introduced herself and Chanter. Kieran had relaxed while they talked, but when the Mujar rose to leave, he looked nervous again. Chanter paused to eye him in a puzzled manner before pushing aside the cloth. Talsy rose to follow, and Kieran climbed to his feet, clearly stiff from days of lying on the thin pallet. He banged his head on the roof, and Talsy turned to glance up at him in surprise. She and Chanter could stand in the shack, but Kieran had to hunch over, and rubbed the back of his head.

Outside, he towered over them, at least six inches taller than Chanter and dwarfing Talsy and Sheera. The old woman studied him as he stood blinking in the sunlight, then turned to Talsy.

"Is he chosen?"

"Yes."

Kieran spotted the stew pot and helped himself to a bowl, sitting on one of the stools. Sheera picked up a bundle and held it out to Chanter.

"These are for you. Gifts from the people."

The Mujar took the bundle and squatted to open it, pulling out a new pair of black leather leggings and a silver-studded vest. He smiled at Sheera, his eyes alight.

"Gratitude."

Sheera blushed, and Talsy grinned. While Chanter went into the forest to change, Talsy sat by the fire and Kieran put away copious amounts of stew. Sheera explained that a shack had been made available for her, waving aside her protests that she had a tent.

"Nonsense, child, you've brought us a great gift. The least we can do is see to it that you're looked after. Will the Mujar stay with you at night?"

Talsy shook her head. "I don't know. Sometimes he does, for he knows I don't like to be alone, but other times he leaves."