“Is that meant to make me trust you?” She didn’t change her stance.
After a moment he wedged the shield between arm and torso and used his free hand to lift his mask so that she could see his face. He examined her with the startled expression of a man who has abruptly realized that the woman standing before him has that blend of form and allurement that makes her attractive. She didn’t lower her bow. Wind teased her arrow point up and down, so she couldn’t hold it steady. With an angry exclamation she sought fire in the iron tip and let it free. The arrow’s point burst into flame. Cat Mask leaped backward quite dramatically.
Eldest Uncle laughed outright, hoisting his spear. The bells tied to its tip jangled merrily. “So am I answered!” he cried. He frowned at Cat Mask. “Why have you followed us, Sour One?”
“To make you see reason, Old Man. Give her over to me now and I will make sure that she receives the fate she deserves. Humankind are not fit for an alliance with us. They will never trust us, nor any person tainted by kinship to us.”
“Harsh words,” mused Eldest Uncle as Liath kept Cat Mask fixed in her sight while the arrow’s point burned cheerfully. “Is it better to waste away here? Do you believe that your plans and plots will succeed even if nothing hinders our return? Have we numbers enough to defeat humankind and their allies, now that they are many and we are few?”
“They fight among themselves. As long as they remain divided, we can defeat them.”
“Will they still quarrel among themselves when faced with our armies? Do not forget how much they hated us before.”
“They will always hate us!” But even as he said those words, he glanced again at Liath. She knew the expression of men who felt desire; she had seen it often enough to recognize it here. Cat Mask struggled with unspoken words, or maybe with disgust at his own susceptibility. Like Sanglant, he had the look of a man who knows how to fight and will do so. He was barely as tall as Liath but easily as broad across the shoulders as Sanglant, giving him a powerful, impressive posture. “And we will always hate them!”
His expression caught in her heart, in that place where Hugh still presided with his beautiful face and implacable grip.
“Hate makes you weak.” Her words startled him enough that he met her gaze squarely for the first time. “Hate is like a whirlpool, because in the end it drags you under.” With each word, she saw more clearly the knots that bound her to Hugh, fastened first by him, certainly, but pulled tighter by her. “That which you allow yourself to hate has power over you. How can you be sure that all humankind hates your people still? How can you be sure that an envoy offering peace won’t be listened to?”
He snarled. “You can never understand what we suffered.”
The flame at the tip of the arrow flickered down and snapped out, leaving the iron point glowing with heat. With deliberate slowness, to make it a challenge, she lowered the bow. “You don’t know what I can or cannot understand. You are not the only one who has suffered.”
“Ask those who are dead if they want peace with humankind. How can we trust the ones who did this to us?”
“The ones who did this to you died so long ago that most people believe you are only a story told to children at bedtime.”
He laughed, not kindly, and took a step forward. “You are clever with words, Bright One. But I will still have your blood to make my people strong.”
Resolve made her bold and maybe reckless as she gestured toward the heavens with Seeker of Hearts. “Catch me if you can, Cat Mask. Will you walk the spheres at my heels, or do you prefer to face me after I have returned from the halls of power, having learned the secret language of the stars?”
Cat Mask hissed in surprise, or disapproval. Or maybe even fear.
Eldest Uncle set down his spear with a thump. “So be it.” He raised the spear and shook it so the bells rattled, as though to close the circle and end the conversation. “Go,” he said to Cat Mask. It was a measure of the respect granted him as the last survivor, the only Ashioi who had seen the great cataclysm personally, that when he spoke a single command, a warrior as bold as Cat Mask obeyed instantly.
They watched him jog away down the length of the avenue. When he was distant enough that he posed no immediate threat, Eldest Uncle set foot on the stairs. Liath followed, using her bow to steady herself as they climbed higher on those frighteningly narrow steps. She caught her breath at the broad platform that defined its height before they descended the other side and passed into the mist, traversing the borderlands quickly and emerging at the lonely tower.
