Клэр Белл - The Named - The Complete Series

It had a strange effect on Ratha, altering her perception of the moment so that everything seemed to slow and glide. So alien was this that a shiver ran up from her tail tip to the back of her head, making her want to shake to be rid of it.

So, the way this“ song” is carried is through scent, and touch as well as sound, Ratha thought.

She found her tongue.“Thistle, did True-of-voice … I mean, the song … understand?”

Again came the exchange between Thistle and Quiet Hunter, then the inclusion of True-of-voice. To Ratha, the process seemed to take forever, but part of her sensed that it was actually swifter than Named speech.

Thistle returned with the answer.“The showing, the sharing are taken in and acknowledged.”

“I assume that means yes.” Ratha couldn’t help the tartness that crept into her voice.

“It does.”

“What about True-of-voice’s question?”

“About ‘practice.’ Thakur had to ‘practice’ to learn. Song doesn’t know what that means.”

Ratha’s jaw threatened to drop open again, but she recovered. “You know what it means, Thistle. When we start to do something, we often make mistakes. To learn the right way, we have to do it again and again.”

Thistle just stared at her in silence, and her gaze seemed a little sad.“Is no word for ‘mistake.’ Is no word for ‘right.’ No word for ‘wrong.’”

“You mean that True-of-voice never makes mistakes?” Ratha knew her disbelief sounded in her voice. “That’s not true. You had to rescue him when he fell off the cliff.”

“Mistakes happen when song isn’t heard,” Thistle said. “Or when the happening is beyond what the song knows.”

“You are telling me that True-of-voice and his people don’t make errors. That they don’t have the idea of a wrong way or a right way.”

“Song doesn’t mess up when it is within what it knows. Is no wrong way, right way, or anything other than song’s way.”

“You are saying,” Ratha began carefully, “that when True-of-voice has had even a brief experience with something, he and his people can repeat it successfully.”

“Yes. What he sees, he can do. Even if just a glimpse. Not just him either. All. Through the song.”

“So they never have to practice anything? Once True-of-voice sees something done, they all know. They never do anything the wrong way again?”

“Yes. So don’t need to practice like us. Song is like good teacher, or leader, inside head.”

Such a good teacher that the student never makes errors or disobeys, Ratha thought grimly. They can’t disobey because they have no concept of doing anything except what this song-thing commands. I really don’t like this.

Her feeling of distaste roared unexpectedly into hate. She suddenly wanted to be rid of these“ guests.”

She could still reverse what she had done when the Named rescued the other tribe’s leader, she thought. She might not have to harm True-of-voice or any of his folk. She could just tell him quietly, through her two interpreters, that his folk and hers were simply incompatible and must live apart.

That message, she knew, would strike more deeply than fangs into the two who bore it. If Thistle and Quiet Hunter were pulled apart, something in each would collapse and die. The same would happen if Quiet Hunter were isolated from his people, or Thistle from hers.

What if Ratha had to enforce the separation by driving the other tribe away with the Red Tongue? What would that do to Thistle-chaser?

I cannot hurt her so badly… again. Or myself. Why am I forced to make this choice?

Not yet, part of her hissed. You don’t know if the hunters really can do what Thistle claims.

Ratha realized that True-of-voice and Quiet Hunter still waited, but she had to wrestle this prey to the ground before it escaped.

“Thistle,” she began, “I can’t believe these hunters can do something perfectly the first time because True-of-voice sees it.”

Thistle had a delicate pointed little face, but it could look extraordinarily stubborn.“Must believe, Mother. So you understand.” She paused. “Want proof? Want for True-of-voice to show you? Nothing else will make you believe? Right?”

“Yes,” Ratha growled. She waited while Thistle conferred with Quiet Hunter, shaping the message for True-of-voice. At the end, Thistle turned to Ratha again.

“Song says it will show. Have herders bring another fawn. Song will repeat what Thakur just did.”

“True-of-voice? Is he fast enough?”

“Not True-of-voice,” said Thistle. “Song chooses another — younger, quicker.”

Now intense curiosity had Ratha.“All right, I’ll ask the herders to bring another fawn.” She eyed Thistle. “Are you sure this isn’t a trick? Maybe True-of-voice’s people already use that way of knocking beasts down.”

Thistle’s eyes said no. “Not a trick. Face-tail hunters don’t run after little scampering bony things. Not worth it. Not enough meat.”

Ratha left Thistle and the others briefly while she made her request to the herders. She also asked Cherfan to announce a slight change in the sequence of events. Their guests were going to put on a display of their own.

Again a slender, lithe shape positioned itself at the edge of the arena while Named herders held a three-horn fawn. This time, however, the shape was night black rather than copper. The eyes were such a pale blue-green that, from a distance, they looked white.

Ratha, perched once more on the sunning rock, wondered why True-of-voice had not chosen one of his many brindled gray-brown followers. Where had this shadow come from?

The shadow’s shape was that of a young male and the scent, wafting to her on the breeze, confirmed the gender. The black had touched noses with True-of-voice before padding to the start position. Perhaps he was one of the leader’s sons.

It could well be that only True-of-voice’s line had the freedom to vary from the dull pelt color of those they ruled.

Ratha felt the skin on her muzzle start to wrinkle, lips drawing back from her fangs. Here was another instance of a tyrant’s power over his subordinates. Another Meoran, another Shongshar.

She scrubbed her nose quickly with her paw to hide the beginnings of her snarl while she suppressed it. Though she, too, was a leader, she had sworn that she would govern by being respected and loved instead of feared. Though that intent had been badly strained in the past, it was working now.

True-of-voice, however, was no Shongshar. She had never seen him strike or even threaten any of his people. He was extraordinarily gentle with them, even more so than she was with the Named. His gentleness seemed strangely at odds with his absolute power.

Motion at the edge of her vision brought Ratha’s attention back to the field. She had seen the black male’s hindquarters lower and tense. The black gave the same quick lift of the tail as Thakur had done.

For an instant Ratha wanted to spit out an order halting the show. Letting the hunter free on a clan herdbeast was risky. If she really didn’t understand these hunters, she didn’t know what they would do.

It was because she needed to know that she kept silent.

The herders responded to the black hunter’s signal, freeing the fawn.

Ratha felt as if she were watching the herding teacher again as the black hunter sunk into a stalking crouch. He eased forward, placing one paw in front of the next. The three-horn, slightly older and more experienced than Thakur’s quarry, had already bounded away from the release position. The herders had to move fast in order to keep it within their ring.

This wasn’t quite the same as Thakur’s pursuit, Ratha thought. It was harder.

The black male surged from a stalk into a trot and then flashed into a gallop. In the time it took her to draw a breath, he was not only at the fawn’s heels, but on it, swiping and hooking the hock with his dewclaw in the same way. The quarry went down, the black atop it, searching for and seizing the throat.