The dusty tome belched musty air from between its pages as Meg set it on the small table at the center of the antechamber. She cracked the front cover open and thumbed through the well-worn pages until she reached the object of her search: a topographical map of the southern portion of the peninsula.
Beautiful real estate. Beach front property. Native forest lands. Oh, and one ugly volcano full of rabid Centaurs.
She stabbed her finger into the ugly misshapen chunk of rock that symbolized Centaur Mount. If the map had any sort of accuracy, it jutted out of the earth at an awkward angle, surrounded by miles of charred wasteland that gave way to a thick swatch of dark forest, unexplored and dangerous.
Mickey’s quiet presence hovered over her shoulder. “That’s where they are?”
“Yeah.”
Mickey sat on the small couch next to her, pressing into her side. “How far away?”
“By horseback, a few days.” Meg moved her finger northward to the Crescent Canyon. “We can get to Atama Village pretty easily, but that’s the southernmost village in Rainbow Valley. On the other side of it, this portion of forest is largely unexplored.”
With the creak of old springs, Jim sank into an armchair across from them, his expression pinched and pale. “Any particular reason why?”
Meg sat back against the couch cushions. “The portion of the forest between the Crescent Canyon and the southern point of the peninsula is all Centaur territory.” She rolled her eyes. “As far as we know.”
“The canyon forms a natural barrier,” Jim muttered.
“Yeah. They rarely cross it.” She scoffed without humor and folded her arms. “But now that they all have licenses to ride dragons, they can pop in anytime.”
Mickey snorted. “Yeah, that won’t work for me.”
“Me neither.” Meg chewed on her bottom lip and let her gaze drift to the exquisitely painted wall panels hung around the perimeter of the parlor.
Scenes of Josharons in the fields, planting crops and building huts. Scenes of Josharons herding sheep and cattle. Scenes of Josharon kits at play among broad fields of lavender and canna lilies.
Sort of realistic. What would be more realistic in this setting is a bunch of dressed up Josharons arguing around a table about the color of grass.
At the far end of the antechamber, the door to the council chambers remained bolted shut. In normal council meetings, the mezzanine would at least be open, but this particular session was private.
Not a good sign.
Frankly, the fact that the council had even been discussing to attack Centaur Mount was a surprise. The current council didn’t have much of a taste for conflict of any variety, even if it were defending themselves.
She turned her attention back to the map. Centaur Mount was too far away for them to reach quickly, but a small team could get there, infiltrate, get Barb and Jenny out, and take shelter in the forest easily enough. Maybe without being noticed.
Granted, if they could recruit the yodha to assist, they wouldn’t be noticed. But only the council could call in the yodha.
She scrubbed her hand down her face. The couch cushions shifted slightly as Mickey slid down next to her and pressed against her side. Recognizing the invitation, Meg set her hand on Mickey’s leg.
“Are you all right?” Meg asked.
“You think Jenny’s okay?”
Meg turned to look into Mickey’s worried eyes.
The first few weeks that Mickey had lived with them, she’d been closed off. At first, she’d been elated—overjoyed and exultant to be in their family, but after the first few days she shut down. Meg had been concerned, but Velanna had recommended time and distance. After all, Mickey had been through trauma. She needed time to sort her emotions out after all she’d been through.
Meg had obeyed.
Jenny hadn’t.
Jenny kept barging into Mickey’s new room. Sometimes she’d knock. Most times she would knock and enter at the same moment. She dragged Mickey into the garden. She dragged Mickey into the forest and taught her all about rocks and trees and herbs and flowers. She showed her how to make bread, spin wool, can vegetables, churn butter—all the things Jenny did on a daily basis and loved with every fiber of her soul. And while Mickey hadn’t responded with joy or an outpouring of emotion, she’d participated.
It didn’t take long before Danny joined in too, and the three of them turned into their own special kind of gang. They did all their chores together. They mucked out stalls and chicken coops together. They thatched Josharon hut roofs together.
Just like that, Mickey slipped into place as though she’d always been there. Just like she’d always belonged and always had a role to play in their family. And it was Jenny who’d drawn her out, made her feel welcome, helped her discover the new world around her and all the wonders it had to offer.
Time and distance, Velanna had said. Time, yes. But distance? No. Distance hadn’t been what Mickey needed, and Jenny knew that.
Meg swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m sure she’s fine.”
Mickey’s expression softened. “You don’t have to lie to me, Meg.”
Meg looked down. “I’m not lying.”
It was Mickey’s turn to grasp her shoulder and squeeze.
“We’ll get them back.” Meg nodded and glanced at Jim. “We’ll get them both back.”
He nodded stiffly.
It wouldn’t be easy, but they would rescue Barb and Jenny. Meg would make it happen even if she were the only person trying, and as long as Mickey, Danny, and Jim were breathing, she wouldn’t be alone.
The door groaned quietly, and Velanna stepped inside, pausing in the doorway. Velanna eyed the map laid out on the table and approached them on silent feet.
Velanna pinned her with a look. “You are planning an attack of your own, then?”
Meg arched an eyebrow at her. “You already have one, don’t you?”
The side of Velanna’s mouth quirked. “You have no faith in the high council’s judgments?”
“No, I have perfect faith in the high council’s judgments,” Meg said. “Perfect faith that the tribalist majority will vote down any decision that might actually be useful.”
In spite of the situation, Velanna chuckled. “We have seen it before,” she said. “A tribalist council will choose neither reciprocity nor peremptory action.”
“Tribalist councils aren’t super great at choosing any action, Velanna.”
Another chuckle. “This is why Daniel is listening on the mezzanine and not you.”
Velanna set a gentle hand on the back of her neck, but they both turned as the door to the room burst open. Meg turned around to see Danny’s red-haired mop racing toward her. He was pale enough that all his freckles stood out.
“Danny?”
“They voted,” Danny gasped, leaning against a chair. “They won’t do it.”
In spite of what she’d suspected, Meg’s hopes failed. Going after Barb and Jenny would have been hard enough with Josharon support. Going after them without it would be nearly impossible. But that wouldn’t stop her from trying.
The front wing door banged again, and Chief Minister Mirwais glided into view. His carefully combed mane fell over his shoulder, and the robes draped down his front were studded with the symbols of high office. His tails dragged the carpeted floor.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
Mickey and Jim followed behind him, expressions harried and confused. Meg met Jim’s gaze and jerked her head to where Danny stood, and Jim got the message. He tapped Mickey on the shoulder and drew her to Danny’s side.
Mirwais approached regally and bowed to Velanna.
“Chief Minister.” Velanna faced him.
Velanna had mastered the art of speaking without emotion, but at times, when faced with specific people, her great mastery would sometimes fall short. Like with Mirwais. Velanna’s tone made it sound like sucking on a lime would be preferable to talking to him.
“The council has decided that it is not in the tribe’s best interest to initiate an attack upon the Mountain of Fire.” Mirwais spoke with magnanimous presence. “We cannot go to war with the Centaurs.”
He was like the village idiot in Veelari stage dramas. Puffed up like a blowfish, with less substance than a marshmallow.
Not that Meg had expected anything else from him or the high council, but the objection still spilled out of her mouth. “They killed your people.”
He flashed an irritated look at her, his ears laying flat. “Yes, and how many more would die if we were to attack them?” He showed his teeth. “The Centaurs have a superior military force, and they have never shown this level of aggression in the past. It is the council’s judgment that this phase of their aggression will pass.”
Meg gawked at him. “This phase?”
“Margaret.” Velanna ground out.
Mirwais raised a clawed hand calmly and showed a smooth smile to Velanna.
“No need to chastise her, Lady Ittai.” Mirwais tilted his head. “She is young and impulsive, as all children are.” Mirwais pinned her with a fierce brown-eyed stare. ““I know you are fond of those who were taken, but it is the council’s judgment that they are already dead.”
Meg’s stomach flipped over. On the other side of the room, Jim’s face lost a shade of color, and Danny clutched the back of a wing chair like he was trying to strangle it.
How dare you. Rage boiled in her gut. They’re not dead. They’re not.
Mirwais’s voice didn’t change from the smooth-sounding lilt he’d begun his speech with. Like he didn’t even care that the words he used were burning holes in Meg’s heart.
“For a human, you are mostly reasonable,” Mirwais continued. “We cannot risk the lives of our tribe.”
“Maybe you can’t.”
“Margaret.” Velanna’s tone was full of warning.
Meg glanced at Jim. He was pale, but his expression had turned to steel, his blue eyes cold and hard as he held up the book they’d been studying.
Meg turned to Velanna and bowed.
“What are you doing?” Velanna scowled.
“I’m going to Centaur Mount.” Meg stepped toward Danny.
Mirwais squawked and grabbed her arm. “You shall do no such thing!”
Meg paused and looked at his fingers wrapped around her arm back up to his face.
Very slowly, Mirwais peeled his clawed fingers off his arm.
Good move.
He’d just broken protocol in a monstrous way. Aggression was normal between dissenting parties, but the moment aggression became physical, all bets were off. Mirwais had basically invited her to break his smug face. If Velanna hadn’t been there, Meg might have.
He wrinkled his snout and showed his teeth. “Your reckless disdain for the safety of our tribe will end in our extinction!”
I might still break his face.
“Your tribe will be fine.” Meg turned away from him. “We’ll endanger no one but ourselves.”
Over Danny’s shoulder, Mickey smirked.
Mirwais scoffed at her and turned to Velanna. “Lady Ittai, speak into this. Do you not hear my words?”
“I hear, Chief Minister.”
Meg braced herself for one of Velanna’s lengthy speeches about logic and reason and how emotion had no place in determining choices.
“Margaret is not wrong in her assessment.”
Meg froze in shock and stared at Velanna.
Apparently, Mirwais felt the same way. His jaw hung open as he gaped at her.
“There is more happening in this situation than is immediately apparent,” Velanna said tiredly. “The resurrection of gaja breeding alone is a threat to every living thing in Rainbow Valley.”
“We cannot go to war—!”
“I am not suggesting war.” Velanna cut him off. “But certainly there may be a compromise. Perhaps a small team might investigate.”
Meg blinked at Velanna. Velanna Ittai. Supporting Meg’s decisive action against the Centaurs. Who’d have seen that coming?
Mirwais bristled. “I will not put my tribe at risk for the sake of two strangers.”
The declaration fell on the room like thunder. Slowly, Meg turned to him, eyes widening.
Strangers?
Plural? He saw Jenny—her Jenny—as a stranger?
Meg opened her mouth to speak, but a cold, hard hand clutched her shoulder. Velanna appeared at her side, gaze icy and focused on Mirwais.
“You surprise me, Chief Minister.” Velanna’s tone had taken on an edge. “Barbara Taylor, of course, is a guest of my family, and you have no obligation to her.”
“Yes.” Mirwais clapped his hands together in relief and flashed a syrupy smile. “The human with the hair like fire is not our concern. And it is a sad day among our people, but as much as we value young Jennifer, she is not our blood.”
What was he even talking about? Did he recognize what he was saying? On the other side of the room, Mickey and Jim exchanged worried glances, but Danny had turned as red as his hair.
Meg started to respond, but Velanna dug her fingers into Meg’s shoulder with pointed nails.
Mirwais tilted his head and held her gaze as though he was pleased at having successfully communicated his intentions. He flashed a sympathetic look at Velanna. “But you already understand this, Lady Ittai. The child is not your blood either.”
Velanna gave him a tight, cold smile. “Is she not my daughter?”
His expression sour. “You have a daughter, Velanna Ittai, and the human Jennifer is not her.”
I could take his ears off. Or maybe cut out that silver tongue.
Saber or not, she’d make him hurt.
Mirwais tucked his hands into his billowing sleeves. “You surprise me, Lady Ittai. Of all those gathered here, I assumed you would understand this difficult decision at the deepest possible level.”
“Why is that?”
“Our tribe is small.” He looked around the room. “We are few and must make the wisest of choices to preserve our blood while it yet lives. The loss of your Terrans is a great sadness, but there are many Terrans.”
Meg’s mouth went dry.
Forget the ears. I’ll cut off his head.
She clenched her fists, and Velanna squeezed her shoulder again. Slowly, Meg looked up into her adoptive mother’s face, and the cold certainty reflected in Velanna’s eyes settled the boiling of her blood.
Mirwais’s furry face took on a smug quality as he turned his eyes to Meg. “You have neither the wisdom nor the experience to navigate this challenging situation, Margaret. Perhaps, in time, you will be old enough to understand.”
The tension in the room ratcheted up a notch, and Velanna pressed cold fingers into Meg’s shoulders.
“You and your family will never be our tribe.” Mirwais nodded, his face twisted into a mask of false sympathy. “But in choosing our welfare over your immature need for vengeance, you may feel at ease knowing you have chosen wisely.”
Meg stepped out of Velanna’s hold and leaned into Mirwais’s face.
“Margaret,” Velanna hissed.
“And if I choose to seek my tribe over yours?” Meg snarled.
Mirwais sneered. “You already did that.” He nodded toward Mickey. “You found kin, yes, but you paid for her with the soul of the one who raised you.”
Meg’s heart dropped into her stomach. “What?”
The sharp intake of breath behind her told her that Velanna had drawn back in shock.
“Tolan Ittai’s blood was precious to we of Joshar. And your impulsive recklessness has spilled it in vain. I shall not allow you to destroy our tribe the way you have destroyed your own!”
Velanna’s hand fell on Mirwais’s robes, and he froze.
“Enough,” she said softly.
Meg fought against the tears burning in her eyes.
She knew Tzaitel blamed her for Tolan’s death. She suspected Velanna did as well, even though she was better at concealing it. But the Josharons? Of course, they blamed her. Tolan had lived among them for centuries. They had loved him, respected him, needed him.
“Margaret.” Velanna’s hand fell on Meg’s arm. “Please take the others and continue your preparations.”
Tears gathered in her eyes, Meg blinked at Velanna.
What was she saying?
Continue preparations?
Meg flared her nostrils and stepped back from Velanna. The Celtican’s face no longer looked as cold as granite. Instead, her expression burned fiery and unyielding, her mouth drawn into a firm line.
Oh, continue preparations.
Yes, Velanna Ittai was a master of her emotions. At least, until she lost her temper. Then she became a thunderhead. And if you didn’t run for cover, you deserved what rained down on you.
“Mirwais, I have known you all your life.” Velanna’s voice was clear and cold, like icicles on the eaves of the barn roof in winter. Sharp like daggers. “I knew your father. And his father. And his father. And his father. For three hundred years I have served your people—a good and worthy sacrifice indeed. Never once have I gone against the wishes of the council.”
Mirwais lifted his snout, puffed up his chest, and smirked.
Velanna sneered. “But there is a first time for everything.”
Mirwais deflated, mouth dropping open as words that had flowed so smoothly from his tongue got caught in his teeth.
Meg reached Danny and took his arm, and she connected gazes with Mickey, jerking her head toward the door. Jim began to follow.
“Where are they going?” Mirwais shouted.
Velanna flicked his hand out of her face. “You would do well to remember, Mirwais, that you are a minister. Not a king.”
Meg turned back to watch.
Velanna stood before the Josharon Chief Minister, taller than him, head lifted, green eyes vivid like emerald fire.
“I hear your words, Chief Minister, and I shall remember them long after you are buried. Long after your children are buried. And their children. And their children.”
Her face hardened. Her voice became a knife.
“You were elected to your chair by many of your blood who would call my children their own. And do so happily.” Her smile could have cut steel. “Believe me when I say that they will hear your words as well, and they will remember them when your tenure as Chief Minister has run its inevitable course.”
Mirwais shrank back, fidgeting and unable to meet her eyes.
“Now.” Velanna tipped her head to the Josharon Chief Minister. “Excuse me. I shall be aiding in the quest to rescue Jennifer and Barbara, my daughter and our friend.”
Mirwais stumbled. “Lady Ittai.”
“I will say no more to you.” Velanna walked to where Meg was waiting for her.
“But, Lady Ittai!” He stomped his foot. “You threaten the lives of everyone here with this foolishness!”
Velanna smiled at Meg and looked back to Mirwais.
“Banish us if you will, Chief Minister.” Velanna’s smirk was like a razor, the silver streaks in her black hair shining. “Perhaps one day, you will be old enough to understand.”