She was sobbing.
“Moya, I—”
She held up a hand in front of Tekchin, wiped her tears away, and then slowly walked over to Gifford. She couldn’t look him in the eye; instead she stared at the potter’s feet. “Gifford, I’m…I’m…sorry. I’m so very, very sorry.”
Gifford let his crutch go, hopped a step, and put his arms around her, hugging her close. “It’s okay.”
She shook her head against his chest.
“Moya, you just saved us fum Udga the Tewible. I absolve you.”
“Absolve?” Moya asked.
Roan looked over. “He means forgive, he just can’t pronounce the r.”
Gifford smiled. “I might even owe you a few mo’ snapped bones. You did so much.”
While Gifford held her and Moya cried, Tekchin started to walk away, his head down.
“Wait!” Moya called when she noticed. She gave Gifford a kiss on his forehead. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then she turned toward Tekchin. “You’re ugly. You know that, right?”
Tekchin nodded. “You’ve mentioned it once or twice.”
Moya shifted her weight to the hip that carried her sword. She folded her arms roughly and gave him a scowl. “Well, in case you forgot, or thought you might have improved while I was gone, I wanted to let you know you haven’t. You’re still uglier than Tetlin’s ass on a bad day…but…”
“But?” Tekchin tilted his head to one side. His eyes narrowed and his lips parted just slightly as he studied her. “But what?”
“But it doesn’t mean I want you to leave.”
The Fhrey smiled.
“Don’t go grinning at me,” Moya said.
Just then a scuffle broke out among the Gula-Rhunes in the small group across the yard.
“It’s the law!” one of the Gula yelled. One shoved, and the other pushed back.
A fist was thrown, then another. Two more men jumped in. Then a spear was thrust and one man fell. The one with the spear glared at Persephone with hate-filled eyes. Jerking the bloody weapon out of the man’s body, he ran across the courtyard at her.
Raithe, who’d gone over to Tesh after the challenge to show him the sword, moved to intercept. Moya did, too, drawing her sword as she ran. The Gula-Rhune was faster than both and rushed to within a foot of Persephone, where he halted. Not as big as Udgar, he was nevertheless terrifying: crooked yellow teeth, an empty eye socket, and the tattoo of a serpent curling up his forearm. His huge hands were soaked in blood where they gripped the spear.
Persephone didn’t move. She was too terrified to even blink, but slowly, very slowly, she tilted her head up and looked into his one eye.
A cyclops, she thought. I’m going to be killed by a cyclops!
“I am Siegel, son of Siegmar, chieftain of Clan Dunn.”
Tilting her head was as much as Persephone could manage. She kept her jaw tight and her eyes focused on that one eye. He appeared puzzled for a moment, then moved back one step and looked her over. “You are nothing to look at.” He began to nod, his lower lip protruding in grudging approval. “But you are brave.”
Just too scared to move! Persephone thought.
The cyclops—who hadn’t appeared to notice either Raithe or Moya—paused to look behind him at the other Gula-Rhune, then faced her again. “You can show us how to do that?” He pointed at Moya. “To do that to the gods? Kill them from a distance?”
“They aren’t gods,” Persephone said. “They’re just Fhrey. And yes, Moya will teach you. And Roan will give you swords of iron that will break bronze weapons. And shields with markings that will stop their magic.”
Siegel grinned, his mouth filled with crooked teeth. He nodded once more, then turned to Raithe. “Son of Coppersword, you accept this? You believe she can lead us to victory?”
“Udgar would have killed me,” Raithe said. “We both know that.”
“Yes.”
“And yet I would have fought. I would have died; died for her. No one else…only her.”
Siegel looked back at Persephone. “And it was you who invited us?”
“I need you to win,” she said. “You need us to survive. Together we can be free.”
He grinned, then raised his voice so everyone could hear, “She has killed Udgar. The gods have chosen. Persephone of Clan Rhen is keenig. The keenig of Rhulyn and Gula.”
Siegel reached up to the blade of his spear and dragged his palm across the chipped jade edge, cutting a long slice. Then he held out his bleeding hand.
Raithe walked over and offered the edge of the iron blade to Persephone, nodding at it.
She looked at her soft white hand, and with a quiver in her stomach and a clenched jaw, she extended it over the blade. Raithe put his on top of hers, pressing her skin to the sharp edge. Raithe made it quick. She felt the pain like a burn across her palm.
She didn’t want to look. She was afraid to see what the sword had done. Instead, she reached out. Siegel, still grinning, took her hand and squeezed. It hurt but she imagined he could have broken every bone if he wanted. She continued to grit her teeth, and Siegel continued to grin.
“You are the keenig,” he told her. Letting go and grabbing her by the wrist, he shoved her arm up, nearly wrenching it from her shoulder. He shouted to those behind him, “She is the keenig!”
He let go, and Persephone clutched her throbbing hand to her chest as blood ran down to her elbow. Raithe was ready with a strip of cloth that he wrapped around the wound. She turned away from Siegel, who was walking back toward the others at the gate. She looked at Moya and mouthed the word, ouch!
“Roan, get Padera,” Moya said. “Tell her to bring bandages and a needle. No offense, Raithe, but the Keenig of the Ten Clans deserves the best.”
“Sharp, right?” Roan asked with a big smile.
“Very,” Persephone managed to say through gritted teeth.
“Roan…Padera…now! Go!” Moya barked, and Roan ran off.
The chieftains ordered wine to be brought and spits to be loaded for the first ever Rhulyn–Gula celebration.
“You okay?” Moya put her arm around Persephone.
“Hand hurts, but yeah. I guess I am.”
Moya gave her a hug. “You know what else you are?”
Persephone nodded slowly. “I’m the keenig.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The Plan
And that is how it all happened. It is how Persephone became the keenig of the Ten Clans, and Moya became her Shield. It is also the story of how Roan invented the bow and how Suri mastered the Art. For my part, I learned to write. I think each of us believed our adventures were over, and that under Persephone’s guidance, men like Raithe and Fhrey like Nyphron would take over and finish what we started. We certainly did not expect what came next. I am not sure anyone would have.
—THE BOOK OF BRIN
“What now?” Nyphron asked, shaking his head. “Everything was going so well until…Why didn’t you know about this stupid rule where only Rhunes can become keenig? You’re a Rhune. Why didn’t you know?”
Malcolm didn’t reply. The two walked the beach just back from the surf. He didn’t look the least bit apologetic or even concerned. The ex-slave of Nyphron’s father offered the hint of a smile and then turned to look out at the sea.