Барб Хенди - Dog in the Dark

But the word-wood on Brot’ân’duivé’s left side was far different.

Gleannéohkân’thva as a healer was also a Shaper and had made that one in secret. Only dissidents carried such a word-wood. And one of them had just called out to this tree—and the old healer.

Brot’ân’duivé exchanged a glance with Gleannéohkân’thva, who stiffened slightly with a scowl of his wrinkled owlish face.

“Leanâlhâm,” he said gently. “Would you go to the communal ovens and see what is cooking for dinner? If there is no fresh grain bread, perhaps find some from yesterday to steam and soften. I have a craving, little one.”

“Of course,” the girl answered, setting aside her sewing to rise. “If there is none, I will make you some myself.”

“Thank you, dear,” Gleannéohkân’thva said with a great grin, watching the girl hurry out through the canvas-covered doorway.

Strictly speaking, he was not her grandfather, but rather the brother of her grandmother. The term for this relationship was much too long for common conversation. But the old healer had raised the girl like his only daughter. She loved him as if he were her own father, in place of the one who had abandoned her. It often appeared she would do anything for him.

That was why the old healer protected her from the truth of his secret activities—and why he now sent her away.

The doorway’s tapestry still fluttered from the girl’s departure as Gleannéohkân’thva’s warm grin vanished. Cuirin’nên’a rose straight from the floor and reached the doorway in one fluid moment. She peered out before looking back and nodding to the old healer.

Gleannéohkân’thva knee-walked to the nearest wall of his home, from which were made all secret word-woods he created. He flattened his hand against that wall, for the tree itself was all he needed to communicate with any word-wood he had grown and shaped from it.

Brot’ân’duivé quickly took out his own wood-word given to him by the healer and pressed it against the wall. Cuirin’nên’a crouched beside him, placing one slender finger between Brot’ân’duivé’s and against the smooth oval of wood. And they listened.

“I am here,” Gleannéohkân’thva said without identifying himself.

It is Tar’kash .... Are you alone?

Hearing the voice of their compatriot inside his thoughts, Brot’ân’duivé answered first. “No. I, Brot’ân’duivé, am here as well, as is Cuirin’nên’a. Speak freely.”

Tar’kash was a trusted member of their own dissident cell and currently in Crijheäiche—Origin-Heart—the home of Most Aged Father and the main settlement of the Anmaglâhk. Tar’kash took a dangerous risk in even carrying a non-anmaglâhk word-wood in such a place, much less in using it while there.

Gleannéohkân’thva’s tense expression reflected that concern. “What has happened?”

I overheard that Osha was picked up north of the human city of Bela and is being returned home even now. I know that he was off with Sgäilsheilleache, and that the greimasg’äh would wish to know of this....

“What of my son,” Cuirin’nên’a interrupted, “or his consort?”

“And Sgäilsheilleache,” Brot’ân’duivé added.

None of them were mentioned—only Osha. He returns by ship under the watch of Dänvârfij.

“Dänvârfij ... Hkuan’duv’s last student?” Brot’ân’duivé asked. “What is she doing on that side of the continent? What purpose was she given by Most Aged Father?”

Hkuan’duv—the Blackened Sea—was one of four remaining greimasg’äh, the “shadow-grippers” among the Anmaglâhk. It unsettled Brot’ân’duivé that Most Aged Father would send Hkuan’duv’s finest student to retrieve one insignificant young anmaglâhk, who still had not completed final tutelage under his jeóin, Sgäilsheilleache.

Unknown, Tar’kash answered. She has not been seen in Crijheäiche for moons. But I learned she was already onboard when the ship intercepted Osha on the western coast.

“And my son?” Cuirin’nên’a demanded sharply. “Something must have been said, for Osha left with him.”

Nothing concerning Léshil—my apologies. Tar’kash’s voice then grew rushed with urgency. I must go! I am alone on the forest outskirts, but I cannot risk being seen. Use this information as best you can.

The word-wood began to cool beneath Brot’ân’duivé’s hand. His thoughts were already turning, trying to calculate what was missing. Sgäilsheilleache and Osha had undertaken to protect Magiere and Léshil wherever they wished to go, south along the coast below his people’s lands. But why was Dänvârfij aboard one of their ships on the continent’s far side? And what was Osha doing there ... alone?

Cuirin’nên’a pulled her hand from the wall as if that contact were something to be wary of.

“This is not right,” she said quietly, almost to herself. “Why does Osha return without the others, especially Sgäilsheilleache? Why would Most Aged Father send a loyalist of our caste to ‘intercept’ him?”

Brot’ân’duivé could not construct an answer as he pocketed his word-wood. “I will go and learn for myself.”

“I am coming,” she said flatly.

“No, your presence would cause suspicion,” Brot’ân’duivé warned, “or at least undue attention. You have not been that long out of imprisonment for suspected treason. I will send word as soon as I learn anything.” He turned to Gleannéohkân’thva. “Send word of this to anyone carrying your word-wood who is near the port. Have them watch for ships ... and Osha or Dänvârfij.”

Gleannéohkân’thva had neither spoken nor taken his hand from the wall. The wrinkles around his eyes deepened. “I do not like this. Osha would never tolerate being separated from Sgäilsheilleache.”

Brot’ân’duivé understood the old healer’s concern. Whenever Sgäilsheilleache was not away fulfilling a purpose given by Most Aged Father, he returned to this place, his chosen home. He was like a son to Gleannéohkân’thva—and somewhere between a beloved cousin and an uncle to Leanâlhâm, though their blood relations were not that simple.

Such personal concerns had no place here. Their cell, and all dissidents, had much larger issues now. In Most Aged Father’s paranoia, he did his best to set the human nations upon each other. He believed that if the enemies of his people, all humans, were constantly at each other’s throats, they would never look toward the land of the an’Cróan. They would continue to weaken one another, becoming a lesser threat as a whole ... or so the patriarch believed.

Most Aged Father did nothing by accident. If he indeed had Osha retrieved and “watched,” then something had happened ... perhaps beyond his control. This was either a new concern or an advantage Brot’ân’duivé could exploit, or both.

He turned to the others. “I will contact you as soon as I—”

Leanâlhâm, looking to Gleannéohkân’thva, ducked through the doorway’s hanging.

“New bread in the ovens, Grandfather,” she said, her long, loose hair tucked behind her ears. “It will not be long.”

“Ah, bless you, my girl,” Gleannéohkân’thva answered with an instant grin and a clap of his wrinkled hands.

Leanâlhâm plopped down with a satisfied sigh to return to working on the pillowcase.

Brot’ân’duivé rose, heading for the doorway. “I will speak to you again soon.”

He did not look back, though he felt the others, especially Cuirin’nên’a, watching his sudden departure. His thoughts still turning, he was barely into the trees beyond the enclave when he broke into a jog.

If he hurried, he might still intercept Osha before the young one was brought before Most Aged Father.