Клэр Белл - The Named - The Complete Series

Ratha pricked her ears so far forward and so hard that it made the muscles along the sides of her face ache.“What kind of ‘something else’?”

“Don’t know. One thing, though. Don’t think that hunters in new group can hear True-of-voice anymore. Too distant.”

Ratha felt as though she were being spun off her feet again.“Thistle, from what you’ve told me, and from what I know, those hunter males can’t exist without True-of-voice’s song. Maybe Quiet Hunter can, because we taught him, but not the others.”

“Know that,” said Thistle.

“Then how …?” Ratha faltered.

“Maybe … new group has … own song?”

“Can you sense it?”

“No.”

Ratha stepped on all the other questions she badly wanted to ask.“Thistle, you’re worn out. Go rest, eat, and let Biaree groom you. Other scouts will be reporting back; we have to wait for them.”

Thistle, for once, didn’t argue. She wobbled off to collect her treeling, her tail barely clearing the ground. Ratha could see that she had given nearly all she had in the search for the one she loved. Thistle would if there was something she really cared about. Perhaps being so single-minded was a weakness, running toabsolute exhaustion out of passion. Ratha knew she was like that once, but she had learned to conserve, to pace, to balance. She hoped that in doing so she had not lost the passion that burned like the Red Tongue in her daughter.

Now is for fleeing. The song-hearers have given this night-black coat stars that it cannot eat; red stars that dry to dull on stiffened fur. Fur stiffened also by sweat between the pads, the pads that have run again and again.

The wrath of the song-hearers stinks and blasts and blinds. Their claws make the red stars.

These eyes cannot seek the hunting tribe, for it is split with two true voices and both push aside the star-eater.

The star-eater, who will die if not joined to something. The only something left is the clan of the talking ones. They gave life to another who lost the song, the quiet hunter.

Among the talking ones is the yellow-gold fur. The eyes do not want to see the yellow-gold fur. The heart will beat too fast. Not just because the yellow-gold brought the searing gift to the talking ones. The yellow-gold left burning tracks inside what once lived inside this night-black coat.

The black fur swallowed stars. The yellow-gold swallowed hope.

There must be something other than the yellow-gold fur’s clan. There must.

The returning Named scouts had seen things that confirmed Thistle’s odd prediction. There was something new in the all-male splinter group: another like True-of-voice. The new singer was the oldest one in the bunch, the scouts said, and his coloring and scent marked him as one of True-of-voice’s sons. He was a darker gray than his sire, with faint vertical barring along his sides, black ringing his tail, and white on his lower jaw, chest, and feet. This new singer’s presence in all senses was dominating the group — the individual members’ scents were being submerged in his.

To avoid confusion, the scouts had started to call this individual New Singer. Ratha continued using the name, and the usage soon spread.

For Ratha, New Singer’s appearance added new complications to an unstable situation. She felt she had to pull back and concentrate her resources on clan ground. As she had already told Bira, there would be no more warming fires on hunter land or anywhere else except on Named territory. If things improved, perhaps they could resume.

She half expected Bira to protest, but the young Firekeeper took this in her usual calm manner. She had already told those who came to the fire that the Named couldn’t keep this favor going. She had explained why, although she wasn’t sure if they understood. She also hoped that if this filtered through to True-of-voice, he might act.

As well as redoubling their effort on home-ground tasks, the Named also kept a careful watch on both the old and new groups of face-tail hunters.

“I don’t think New Singer and his gang can survive apart from True-of-voice,” Fessran said to Ratha a day or so later, after the clan had started an intense watch on the new group. “They’re all one age — they don’t have any old ones to give them advice, they don’t have any cubs, and they don’t have any females.”

“Is that Night-who-eats-stars with New Singer?”

“No, he isn’t. The last time I caught his scent, it told me he was on his own now; he’d lost any trace of his original group-odor, and he hadn’t taken on any of the new. In fact, I haven’t seen or caught a whiff or taste of him for days. I think he’s gone for good.”

“Well, that would help prevent New Singer and his bunch from using the Red Tongue,” Ratha said, then looked over her shoulder as Thakur approached. He had shortened his herding classes so that he could help Ratha and Fessran.

“Since some of the herders are working as scouts,” he said after he nose-touched with the two, “I’ve turned some of their duties to the older cubs, especially Ashon.”

“Good,” Ratha answered. “We need to stay alert until we know how this new hunter group will act as neighbors.” She paused, then told him about Fessran’s speculation that New Singer’s band would collapse and probably be reabsorbed into his sire’s tribe.

“That isn’t going to happen,” Thakur said bluntly. “Not if New Singer is half as strong as his father. I’m worried about the fact that they have no females.”

“Maybe True-of-voice lost so many in the fire that he couldn’t let any go,” Ratha suggested.

“That may be a part of it.”

“Then why did he and his dung-eating song drive the young males away if they can’t survive long-term?” Fessran asked, sounding irritated.

Ratha responded,“Well, if they don’t, that eventually lessens the threat to us.”

“Not if New Singer’s bunch gets desperate and tries for the Red Tongue or our herdbeasts. Remember, we have face-tails now.” Fessran’s tail made a few lashes.

“We’re all aware of that and working to prevent it,” Ratha answered.

She saw Thakur turn to Fessran.“You are absolutely sure that no females joined New Singer’s band.”

“The scouts are watching out for that. Bira says she’s sure, and she’s reliable.” Fessran breathed deeply through her nose.

“Why are you both still clawing this question around?” Ratha asked. “If they don’t have females, it helps us.”

“I’m not sure about that, Ratha,” Thakur said slowly.

“I’m not either,” Fessran added. “Something about this mess is really bothering me, though I don’t know what or why.”

Ratha studied both of her friends. Thakur looked as if he had begun putting some pieces together and didn’t like the result. Fessran’s reaction seemed hazier and more instinctive, as if she knew where the answer lay but was having trouble tracking it.

“Having both of you agree on something isn’t usual,” Ratha said. “It also makes me want to do more, but I don’t know what. We’ve got all the scouts out that we can spare from the usual duties.”

“Pull the scouts back,” Thakur said suddenly. “We’re going to need them here.”

“Fessran?” Ratha’s gaze went to the Firekeeper leader.

“For once I’m with Thakur. That itch between my shoulders is getting nastier.”

Ratha felt resolution settle over her.“All right, I’ll take your counsel. So you both think that the threat is not True-of-voice but New Singer. And that if he strikes us, he will try to seize the Red Tongue and the herdbeasts.”

“Given that we don’t know how the hunters think, we have to assume that would be his intent,” said Thakur.