The others in the lodge were nodding and exchanging knowing looks. Something was going on—had been going on—since before she had entered. While she talked, the men scowled. Persephone had expected to find relief or appreciation; although she could have understood finding concern, worry, or fear. Instead, she saw agreement on the faces of the men gathered in the Great Hall.
What has Hegner been saying about me?
“You don’t think I see what you’re doing?” Konniger accused. “If you wanted to rule, you should have made a proper challenge like Holliman did. Oh, but you couldn’t, could you? You didn’t have anyone here strong enough to act as your champion. So you had to plot and wait while you maneuvered outsiders. Now you have your own personal army of Fhrey.”
“Konniger, you’ve known me since you were a boy and protected me and my family for a decade. You know me. You can’t possibly believe I’d kill or arrange for others to kill Adler and Sackett. You’re jumping to conclusions. I know you’re in a difficult position, and it’s Hegner’s word against mine. But look at the sources. I’m a respected chieftain’s widow who helped lead this clan through the Great Famine and the Long Winter, whereas Hegner’s claim to fame was when he stole Wedon’s prized calf. Who deserves your trust?”
“I didn’t steal no calf!” Hegner shouted.
“You’ve also said you didn’t take a jug of Bergin’s beer, but you were caught with it.”
“Yeah, well, okay. I took the beer, but I didn’t steal no calf.”
“There,” Persephone said. “This is who you are listening to? Do you really think I’ve been having secret meetings in the forest? You know damn well I haven’t set foot in the forest in all the years you’ve guarded me and my family. And except that one time, I haven’t left Sarah’s house since Reglan’s death. I was gone for one day…just one. As for the Fhrey, they aren’t my personal anything. But if they were, why would I come here and try to convince you to step up and go see them? The only reason I’ve talked to Nyphron at all is because no one else was.”
“So what did you tell this Nyphron?” Konniger asked, folding his arms over his chest.
“I told him he had permission to speak on behalf of Dahl Rhen if more Fhrey arrive.”
This brought a wide smile to Tressa’s face and made Konniger’s head nod along with the rest. They all seemed pleased, with the exception of Hegner, who slunk back into the shadows.
“You didn’t think you should ask your chieftain before making alliances?” Krier asked. Until then he had leaned against a winter post, but at that moment he took a step toward her.
Krier was an ugly man who’d first come to Persephone’s attention for beating Gifford. The bully often taunted and threw rotten vegetables at the potter. The matter had come before Reglan, and Krier defended himself by saying the cripple had attacked him with his crutch, but witnesses said Gifford had simply fallen on Krier after tripping. Gifford is cursed by the gods. Having him around invites bad luck, Krier often said. Although no one was ever accused, someone had tried to set fire to Gifford’s house, and it was no secret whom most suspected.
Tope, who was no friend of Krier, straightened up and spit in his direction.
“You have a problem, Tope?” Krier asked.
“Yeah,” Tope replied. “You’re too far away.”
Persephone put a hand on the farmer’s sleeve, trying to calm him. Then said to Konniger, “Would you have said differently? Would you have refused their help and tried to keep them out of Dahl Rhen?”
“That’s not the point,” Tressa nearly shouted, and slammed her hand down on the arm of the chair. “You had no right! Reglan is dead, dead and buried. You aren’t in charge anymore!”
“Enough!” Konniger raised his hands. “I’m the chieftain of this clan, and I need time to figure this out. One thing I do know, the Galantians represent a threat. Maybe they are in league with Persephone, or maybe their kind will attack us because we are providing shelter. Either way, we would be safer if they weren’t here. So this is my decree…” He looked directly at her. “Persephone, you’ll go out there and tell the Fhrey you had no authority to speak on behalf of Clan Rhen. Then, you’ll inform them we don’t want their help and tell them to leave. As for this matter between you and Hegner, I’ll decide that later when I can address it properly.”
Persephone looked at Delwin and Tope. The two stood rigid, their eyes shifting nervously.
“You have a problem with that?” Konniger asked.
Persephone nodded. “Yes, yes, I do. I did what I thought was best to save this dahl. It was not my intention to challenge your authority but rather to encourage you to exercise it. You’re the great chieftain—so act like it. If you want the Fhrey to leave, you go out there and tell them yourself, and I’ll go back to living off the kindness of friends. Maybe I’ll start knitting a shawl. I think I’ll need one come winter…if you haven’t killed us all before then, that is.”
Persephone turned and walked away so abruptly that Delwin and Tope were momentarily left behind.
As she left, she heard Tressa say, “See, what did I tell you?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Bones
Suri had a wolf named Minna. They were the best of friends and roamed the forest together. She had tattoos, was always filthy, afraid of nothing, and could do magic. From the first time I met her, I wanted to be Suri…I still do.
—THE BOOK OF BRIN
The bones were excellent…for a chicken.
Suri would have preferred a crow or, better yet, a raven. Gods frequently chose them to be messengers and spirits often inhabited their bodies. Not that Suri would dare kill one to get at its bones. The divine rarely appreciated the murder of a faithful servant. And of course there was always the risk of actually wringing the neck of a spirit in bird form, and that was just a bad day for everyone involved. The chicken bones would work even if the connection through the veil was hazy and intermittent. At least she wouldn’t fear offending anyone. No god, goddess, or spirit would ever inhabit or employ a chicken.
Suri planned to call on Mari. She didn’t know exactly what she was looking for, but Mari, the goddess of wisdom, was the patron of Persephone’s home, and so Suri figured Mari would be the best overall choice. Suri was outside the palisade on the western side of the dahl, the highest point she could find. Minna lay quietly on the hill a few feet away, giving her space. The wolf was considerate that way. The mystic built her little fire and waited for the sun to descend. It was best to begin a reading at dusk, when the doors between the worlds were open the widest. They wouldn’t remain open long. While waiting, she divided the bones into groups. Those taken from the right side of the chicken referred to the “us,” the ones on whose behalf she performed the reading. Bones from the left represented the “others,” those in opposition.
As the sun dipped behind the distant trees, Suri dropped the two sets of bones into the flames. She waited as the black line of forest trees swallowed up the giant orange ball. She didn’t count or use any physical measurements. Suri was an instinctive augur. She performed her rituals by feel. Tura had taught Suri everything the old mystic had known, but she admitted no one could teach interpretation. You were either born with the talent or not.