Клэр Белл - The Named - The Complete Series

“Yes, because they are our kind, although they have taken a different trail.” Thakur looked around at his listeners. “So now do you understand what has happened?”

“The canyon fire killed too many hunter females,” Khushi said. “But we didn’t start the fire — it was that Night-who-eats-stars.”

“If we hadn’t kept and tamed the Red Tongue, the star-eater wouldn’t have been able to misuse it,” Ratha answered. “We do bear some of the responsibility.”

“To True-of-voice, it didn’t matter,” Thakur resumed. “To restore balance, he exiled the young males, including his own son, who became New Singer. That’s why there were no females in their group.”

“Yes, you were worried about that,” said Ratha.

“So now that we know, what do we do?” asked Cherfan.

“First,” said Thakur, “we plan. Then we sleep. Ratha?” He tilted his head up to her.

She agreed. With food in their bellies, the Named were better able to think. They formed an irregular circle around Ratha and Thakur, reminding her of the comforting panther-pile they had made around her while she was suffering from grief and shock after the canyon fire.

The first thing, she said, was to recover as many of the herdbeasts as they could and find a protected place to graze them. Hunting could feed the Named in an emergency, but Ratha didn’t want her people to lose their herding ways.

“Uh, clan leader,” said Khushi, “if New Singer’s bunch captured Fess and the others for mating, shouldn’t we try to rescue them first before …?”

Ratha heard the other clan males growling agreement. The thought of outsiders coupling with their females raised the fur on their napes.

It raised Ratha’s hackles, too … the thought of Thistle being forced …

No, she couldn’t let emotion run away with her. She had to think. She got up.

“The renegades can’t mate with Fessran and the others until those females come into heat.”

“How do you know they aren’t?” Mondir asked.

She waved her tail.“Because I’m not. You’d certainly know if I were. We all come in season together.”

Close by, she felt Thakur shift, as if to say, you may not be now, but you’re close. Just the thought was enough to bring a warm prickle up her back from the base of her tail. The stress of the attack had driven away the onset of her heat, but it would return soon. When it did, she would be less than useless to the Named, at least as a leader. She had less time than she thought.

“All right, tomorrow we go after the herdbeasts,” she announced. “After that, our friends.”

Everyone agreed and made a panther-pile around the cubs to keep them snug. Ratha, close to the center, appreciated the support and affection, but she was feeling hot and itchy. Wiggling her way out, she left through a crevice, seeking the cool night air. She told Bundi and Khushi that she was taking over their watch and they could go and sleep. Gratefully they did, leaving Ratha alone with the cloudy night sky and the scent of pinecones drying amid granite pebbles.

Though she had put up a good front for her people, now she slumped. She felt ragged, empty, and most of all, guilty. Retracing the trail of events in her mind, she found mistake after mistake. The biggest one was the first — choosing to rescue True-of-voice and restoring him to his people. It had felt like the right thing to do, but the choice had hurt the Named badly.

And I was stroking myself for being so farseeing and generous when I did it, she thought bitterly. If she had let True-of-voice die and the hunter tribe wither, the Named would still be on clan land, living in safety, herding, teaching cubs: all the things that meant the most to them. There would have been no fawn-killing, no canyon fire, no dead-gathering, no resulting imbalance, no rogue males, and no attack.

While trying to reach out to others, she had led the Named to disaster. Even her creature, the Red Tongue, couldn’t save them. It, too, was lost to her, along with her land, her daughter, and even her treeling.

And who as to blame? Night-who-eats stars, for stealing the Red Tongue and setting the canyon blaze? Perhaps a little. His crime was more ineptness than harmful intent. Not True-of-voice, for he bore no malice toward the Named. He was only acting out of necessity when he exiled the young males and unleashed New Singer on the clan. Not even New Singer himself, even though he had done so much damage to the clan that Ratha hated him. He was only following the age-old urge to breed.

A leader’s first duty was to her people. She had betrayed that duty. She no longer deserved to lead. Another could do better.

Like the clouds creeping across the sky, engulfing the stars, Ratha felt despair creeping over her, flattening her, dissolving her down until her drooping chin and whiskers sagged upon her paws, and her tail, limp, hung over the edge of the boulder where she crouched.

It wasn’t in her nature to be cruel or harsh. She had to force herself to be stern. Kindness came more easily. Had she indulged herself at the expense of her people by taking the easy trail? Had kindness and the wish to be thought of as such been just an illusion that enticed her and her people off a fatal hidden edge?

Inside, she cried at the unfairness of it all. What she had felt so strongly to be right — kindness, reaching out, looking beyond — they weren’t what made a leader. The tyrants Meoran, Shongshar — even they were better leaders than she. Cruel as they were, they would have led the Named to triumph rather than destruction.

It would be better for the clan if she just crept away. She felt mocked by the ghosts of the tyrants she thought she had defeated. Were they right after all in believing that a female didn’t have the strength to lead, that she would always be seduced by gentleness, kindness?

She didn’t realize that she had let a despairing cry escape her until she felt a paw on her shoulder and the ends of whiskers brushing her cheek.

“What we are now,” Thakur’s voice said, “could not be ruled by the old ways of claws and teeth, or even the new way of the Red Tongue. Never mistake kindness for weakness, Ratha. Kindness takes far more strength than cruelty.”

There was more than understanding in his voice, or even affection. There was love.

It made her gulp and then choke out all the despairs that rent and tore her. He listened quietly.

“I’m no leader. I only became one by accident and then stayed when you placed the torch in my mouth,” she moaned. “Ever since then, all I’ve done is blunder. I misjudged Shongshar. I was blind about True-of-voice, and New Singer took me by surprise.” She took a sobbing breath. “I can’t even keep a proper watch without getting distracted by my feelings! If anyone came, they’d have easily gotten past me.”

In answer, Thakur turned his head one way, to where Ashon stood, looking silvery in a shaft of moonlight. When he turned his head the other way, she followed his head to Mondir, eyes gleaming, ears erect.

“They asked me if they could come out and take the watch. They wanted to. They know it is hard to keep alert when you suffer.”

“A leader shouldn’t go to mush like this,” Ratha growled. “If I suffer, I deserve it. Look at what I’ve done.”

“Yes, look at what you’ve done,” Thakur said, soft mockery lilting his voice. “Created a clan where all can speak without fear and know they will be heard. Where all feel safe; where they can use their talents without being squashed; where they can be safe, live, mate, raise cubs in freedom. Where I can teach and grow with my students, Fessran can rant, Mishanti can be a nuisance, Thistle-chaser can be stubborn, Bira can groom that tail of hers; most of all, you’ve created a clan where we can be ourselves.” He stopped for breath. “You know how precious that is, Ratha. I’ve seen you fight savagely for it.”