Клэр Белл - The Named - The Complete Series

“We are all crying cubs before it,” Thakur had said once long ago. Ratha remembered his words and thought,Once, I alone could stand before it without fear. Now I know I am no better than the others.

One day in late summer, she lay in her hiding place with the sun on her back and her chin on the rock, far enough from the Firekeeper guards so they wouldn’t smell her. The air was still and even the sound of the fall seemed to be muffled by the heat. No one had come all afternoon and the two Firekeepers were dozing where they sat. Ratha was thinking about leaving her refuge to drink from the stream above the falls when she heard claws scraping on rock. She ducked down and peered through a cleft between two boulders. For a moment, the crack framed an ugly face with lop ears and bile-yellow eyes.

Shoman! What was he doing there?

Ratha saw his grizzled brown coat and his kinked tail as he passed her hiding place. Someone followed him, and she caught a glimpse of a burn-scarred muzzle and the faded spots of a yearling.

“Bundi?” she whispered to herself, but she didn’t need his smell to know the injured herder. She felt a sense of betrayal, although she was not quite sure why. Perhaps she had assumed that one who had been wounded by the Red Tongue would never seek its presence again.

She saw Shoman and Bundi approach the Firekeeper guards. One of them was Fessran’s son Nyang and he came forward to challenge the two herders who sought entry.

“Take yourselves back down the trail,” Nyang said, flattening his ears at them. “The Red Tongue has marked you as unfit to enter its lair.”

“Unfit because I bear this scar, or unfit because I see only what is there and not what others would have me see?” growled Shoman.

Nyang’s eyes narrowed. “The fire-creature can make you see whatever it wishes you to see. If you do not believe, why are you here?”

“Because of this!” Shoman thrust his scarred foreleg at Nyang. “Because the other herders see this and shun me. I have never been liked and I never expected to be, but to have them wrinkle their noses and look at me as if I were a diseased carcass full of blowflies … that I can’t bear.”

“And you are not afraid that one who angered the fire-creature once may anger it again?” asked Nyang.

“If it is clumsiness that angers it, then it may have me,” Shoman spat. “I did nothing wrong, but the other herders won’t believe it. I would rather risk its anger than to go back down to the meadow and be hissed at with contempt.” He paused. Ratha could not see his face, but she knew he was glaring at Nyang. At last he said, “If you won’t let both of us in, then take Bundi. He suffered much more from the Red Tongue’s touch than I did, and he is too young to be spurned and made one apart.”

Shoman’s rough sympathy with Bundi startled Ratha, who had thought that he was too bitter and selfish to care much about anyone else. His words were wasted on Nyang, who looked at him coldly.

“I need a better reason than that,” he said and then leered at Shoman.

The herder gave a deep growl that ended in a sigh.“I thought you might. Bundi”—he turned to the youngster behind him—“bring the meat I gave you.”

It was a small piece and Bundi had hidden it in his mouth, concealing the sight and smell from anyone else. He came forward and disgorged it in front of Nyang.

The sight of the chunk of torn flesh lying on the stone before the Firekeeper enraged Ratha and she had to fight to keep herself concealed. No one had the right to take meat from a herdbeast carcass unless they were feeding a nursing mother. All in the clan ate together and shared equally until their bellies were filled. Stealing or hoarding was a shameful act, and by the old laws of the Named, a clan leader could demand that the culprit bare his throat for a killing bite.

Nyang smelled the meat, looked to either side to be sure no one else was watching and then fastened his jaws in it. Ratha let him eat half before she left her hiding place and stepped out onto the trail. At the sound of her footsteps, Nyang started and the other two whirled around.

“That meat is forbidden, Firekeeper,” Ratha said, lowering her head as the hair rose on the nape of her neck. Nyang tried to gulp down the rest of it, but he choked and dropped it as she showed her fangs at him. She turned to Bundi, who could not answer her accusing stare.

“The meat is mine,” Shoman said in a harsh voice. “It is from my share.”

“You know as well as I do that we eat from the carcass where it lies,” said Ratha fiercely. “Your share or not, it is stolen, and I will not tolerate such a shameful thing among my people.”

He looked back at her, half-ashamed, half-defiant.“Do you allow a good herder to be shunned and spat on just because he bears the scars from an accident that was not his fault? I am speaking of Bundi, clan leader, not myself.”

“What good would it do him to enter this cave?” Ratha asked. “The Red Tongue does not heal its own wounds.”

“It can heal the wounds that are made by malicious words. If Bundi and I enter the cave as if to seek forgiveness and emerge unharmed, and if this news is spread among the other herders, then we will not be treated as outcasts.”

Ratha wanted to ask why they had not come to Cherfan or to her, but another thought stilled her question. If Shoman had come to her, she could have ordered that all who were shunning him and Bundi stop doing so, but while she might have put an end to their acts, she could not have changed the feelings that showed in their eyes. Shoman had taken the only action he could, despite the risk. He had done it for Bundi as well as himself, and that made Ratha respect him.

“All right,” she said at last. “Nyang, take them into the cave.” With a last hungry look at the meat, the Firekeeper led the two herders in.

She picked up the remains of the meat, holding it with the tips of her fangs as if the taste was rancid. She pushed past the other Firekeeper guard, who had been watching in astonishment, and entered the low gallery that led into the cave.

She halted in the flickering shadows to watch Shoman and Bundi approach the fire. Shoman stood still, but Bundi crouched before the flame, ducking his head so low that his whiskers swept the ground.

Beyond them, on a ledge in the darkness at the rear of the cave, sat Shongshar and behind him Fessran. Their eyes were fixed on Bundi and they seemed to brighten as the young herder raised his chin as if to bare his throat.

Ratha leaped over a row of stone fangs and began to walk purposefully toward the ledge at the rear of the cave. Bundi halted in his supplication and crept away from the fire. If he had ignored her and bared his throat to the fire-creature, she knew she would have filled the cave with her roar, but she stayed silent and set her feet quietly.

Her path took her past the two herders. She stopped briefly, narrowing her eyes against the firelight and said,“Go now. I will make sure the others learn that you are no longer to be shunned.”

When the two were gone, Ratha continued her walk toward the rear of the cave.

“Why do you enter the Red Tongue’s den without permission from the ones who guard it?” Fessran’s voice came from the ledge, sounding hollow and threatening, yet there was also an edge of fear in her words.

“Because I am the one who tamed the creature for you, Firekeeper,” Ratha answered, looking up at the two on the ledge. “And I am growing tired of these cub-games. Call Nyang here.”

“My son? What has he done to offend the clan leader?”

Ratha had dropped the meat she carried in order to speak clearly. Now she picked it up and tossed it in front of the ledge. Both Fessran and Shongshar came to the edge of their perch and peered down, smelling the raw flesh. Shongshar fixed his eyes on Ratha.