Chapter Twenty-Four

“I know who you are.” Tally spoke quietly as they sat beside the fire, his words meant for True’s ears alone. Unemphatic as they were, they set True’s every instinct on alert.

He looked at the boy sharply. Tally sat with a rug slung over his shoulders against the cold and damp, his hair hanging in a tangle. Like the rest of them, he looked weary and miserable, but strength kindled in his eyes. They met True’s head-on, and a chill traced its way up True’s spine.

Another day had passed, a time of confusion and unrest among the members of the Epidii. For the moment, he and the lad sat alone; Barta had gone to speak with Gant and others of the guard, and Tally’s friends were off on some errand for him. Now True wondered if Tally had sent them just so he might have this opportunity to speak privately.

True shrugged uncomfortably and looked away from those perceptive eyes. “I do not understand your meaning, young Master. How could you know what no one else does? I barely remember my own past.”

Tally’s lips curved in a wry smile. “Oh, you remember it. Why else would you call me ‘young Master’ when none of us here are your masters? You are a poor liar…True. So you should be, with such a name.”

True swallowed convulsively as heat suffused him. He had not been prepared for this; since yesterday he’d thought about little but Barta and Brude, and what the breakdown in relations between them might mean for the tribe. He’d questioned himself over and over again, because if the goddess decided to recall him into death—his miraculous time here suddenly done—he would have to leave Barta in perilous circumstances indeed.

Now he wondered how best to reply to Tally. Prevarication seemed hopeless, denial useless.

Before he could speak, Tally went on very softly, “I think my mother knew also, did she not, or at least suspected? It is why she defended you from the moment you returned. She had an instinct for all things magical, did Mother. I suppose I’ve inherited a bit of that.”

True drew a breath that seared his lungs. “Young Master…Barta does not know. She cannot be told or the spell ends. Should she guess, I have leave from the goddess to tell her, but anything else will sunder us. You cannot breathe a word.”

“You think I would?” Again, Tally’s smoky gray gaze engaged True’s and held it. “Indeed, I am surprised Barta has not yet guessed. Your eyes are the same—exactly the same. By what miracle did you win your way back to us?”

“By the mercy of the Lady, her reward for the loyalty I’d shown.” True shook his head. “But it is not forever, and she would not say how long I might stay. I didn’t care, at the beginning. I wanted only to arise and follow your sister—in any form.”

Compassion flooded Tally’s gaze. “I saw her agony when she lost you. I had never seen anyone hurt that way. I confess, I never thought on your pain at being unable to take the place at her side as always. Are you sure Barta does not guess?”

“I am sure.”

“Yet I have never known her to take to anyone as readily as she did to you. My sister is not what I would describe as a warm woman and not particularly welcoming to strangers. Yet she did welcome you at once. And she must feel something strong—else she’d never have taken you to her bed.”

True stared. “What do you know of that?”

“Rekka told me. She overheard what Barta said to Brude. Is it the truth, or just a lie Barta told to put Brude off?”

“It’s the truth.” True closed his eyes for an instant, remembering the perfection of those moments when he and Barta became one—and he became complete. They had not joined so since, though she did lie beside him when she slept.

True did not know what to do with the feelings that filled him when he looked at her or recalled her touch, the sweet taste of her. It made a powerful hunger. And now he faced this danger, if Tally could be considered a danger.

“Please, young Master,” he whispered, his eyes still squeezed shut—a prayer. “Do not tell her.”

For an instant Tally remained silent. Then True felt the boy’s fingers grip his forearm hard. “Do you think I would betray you, True?” he asked again. “That I would betray the goddess, for all that, at whose feet I worship? That I would destroy this finely woven spell of magic it is my privilege to witness? What do you say happens if Barta does guess who you really are?”

True looked at him then, his heart in his eyes. “My understanding is I will then win leave to stay.”

Tally nodded his head, looking thoughtful. “It can only be a matter of time before she sees the spirit that inhabits this flesh—the same spirit, as I can clearly perceive, she’s loved so long. I will keep your secret, True. In the meantime, I would like to think of you as an ally.”

True regarded Tally curiously, and the boy went on, “I do not completely understand why Wick left. He must have known it would be the last thing our parents would wish. Father wanted one of his children to take the place of chief after him. With Wick gone, that leaves Barta. Or me.”

True lowered his voice still further. “I do not know that your sister wants the place.” He looked away across the encampment to where he could just glimpse Barta in conversation with Gede.

“Are you quite certain? For I believe she always longed to lead, deep down. It is why she defied Father so often, and it’s what prompted the raid that cost her so very much.”

“Perhaps loss has changed her mind.”

“But we need someone to step up now. Master True, I remember little of the attack at my parents’ hut, when they were killed. But while I lay senseless after, I had dreams. Deep, surprising dreams.”

“Did you?” True sometimes dreamed of running as a hound, his paws flying over the rough ground and the air rushing through his lungs.

“I dreamed of us all together the way it used to be before Father got injured so sorely.”

“And why was that surprising?”

Tally smiled. “Only because I could feel the magic that surrounded us all, uniting us—like love. Mother used to say there was magic in everything—that it bound the world together, if we could but see.”

“Yes.”

“It’s as if in this dream state I could see the love—and magic—underlying everything, making of us a tribe. But what it united was not flesh with flesh so much as spirit with spirit.”

True looked at the boy questioningly.

“What I am saying to you,” Tally told him softly, “is that the bond never breaks and love never ends. We are all still united, and that means I must act in my Father’s stead, if Barta will not.”

“You?”

“I know I am young. But I have strong friends around me—Gede, Gant, my sister…and you.”

“You mean to challenge Brude for the place?” True asked carefully.

“Why not? My sister has no issue, yet. And that makes me the last surviving member of my father’s house. I have almost fifteen winters. And I am willing.”

“You would make a fine leader, Master Tally, were you older. You have wisdom and, as you say, a share of your mother’s magic. But in such times as these, with unrest all around, the Gaels on our heels, and winter coming…would Brude make such a poor leader? He has strength and a desire for it.”

“But little compassion and limited wisdom. I dread to think what mistakes he might make.”

Gently, True said, “Young Master, we all make mistakes. Brude, Barta, me.”

“And I will make them also. But they will not be mistakes prompted by arrogance or greed. And I will not let us forget our spiritual duties, what we owe the Lord and Lady. You, above all, should acknowledge that.”

True bowed his head.

Tally went on slowly, “I pray the Gaels will pursue us no farther this season. They have what they want for now—the land we held.” Tally’s wide gaze grew hazy, as if he looked inward. True recalled sometimes seeing such a mist in Mistress Essa’s eyes. Softly, Tally spoke. “Yes, they have what they want for now. But it will not last. They will send their clans in the wake of their war carts; they will spread all across the land that once belonged to the Caledonii, like a sickness. In my dreams I have Seen a time when our language is lost and even our blood is but a memory in this land.”

True went breathless. “How to fight such a thing? If you have Seen—”

“What I have Seen is a warning. I believe it will take might and magic together if we are to stay free. Brude’s path will bring ruination.” Tally gripped True’s arm. “I have told no one else of this, nor can you. I will keep your secret if you keep mine.”

True did not like keeping secrets, and the one he already guarded weighed heavily enough. But the boy’s aura had altered and changed color to something resembling that of Mistress Essa’s.

He nodded reluctantly, and Tally’s fingers tightened. “Good. Now come along with me. There is much to be done.”