Bearers of the Black Staff

“Enough, wife,” Pogue Kray interrupted wearily. “We take your point. But you must consider ours. This message casts doubt on everything we have held as truth for five centuries. We cannot accept that lightly.”


“Nor do I say you should, husband,” Aislinne replied pointedly. “Incidentally, I am a member of this council, too. It would be reasonable for you to give me notice of these meetings.”

“You were fifteen miles hence, in Woodstone Glen.” But Pogue Kray looked uncomfortable.

“Too far for someone to come fetch me, I guess.” She was looking at Skeal Eile again. “But someone did fetch me, so here I am, and now I will be heard. Seraphic, you seem threatened by what this boy has to say. Can that be so? Are his words too dangerous to hear?”

“His words directly contradict the teachings of our sect,” the other man replied, his voice gone smooth and pleasant once more. “We know our teachings to be truth. His words, therefore, must be lies.”

“There is no objective scale by which to measure truth, Skeal Eile, when that truth is not written down. What we have are teachings passed by word of mouth over five centuries. There is room for error.”

The muttering resumed suddenly, a low and sullen murmur, and Aislinne Kray wheeled on the crowd. “Are you thinking that I’m a heretic, too? Is anyone who questions the teachings of Skeal Eile automatically a heretic? Must we hew to the doctrine of the sect without question, or are we allowed to think for ourselves? Those the Hawk brought into this valley were people smart enough and strong enough to think for themselves or they would not have gotten here. Are we, their descendants, expected to do differently?”

The voices died away. The silence was huge. “No one questions others’ right to think for themselves, Aislinne Kray,” Skeal Eile said softly, his smooth, calming voice drawing everyone back. “But we are not given the right or the leeway to blindly accept that for which there is no basis in fact. I do not dismiss the boy’s story. I do not brand him a heretic. I simply point out the obvious. His message flies in the face of our teachings and is delivered by a man who has not been one of us for many years.”

“Then this council session should end here and now, with no further disparagement of young Panterra,” she snapped. “He has kept his promise and delivered the message, and that is the end of it. If something more needs doing, I am sure our council leader will see to it that it is done.”

“You do not decide when this council adjourns or when its work is done!” Pogue Kray thundered.

She gave him a look and then wheeled away, long hair fanning out as she turned. “Come, Panterra. You look as if you could use a glass of ale and a hot meal. Prue Liss, you come with me, too. Whatever else needs doing, it can keep until tomorrow.”

“I have further questions to ask of these Trackers, Aislinne,” Skeal Eile called after her, stepping forward as if he might try to detain them. “There are issues raised by their message that clearly fall within the purview of the Children of the Hawk. Our jurisdiction in such matters is not—”

“Tomorrow will be soon enough for your questions,” Aislinne called back to him over her shoulder. She didn’t slow or look around. “Good night to you. Panterra? Prue?”

Panterra glanced quickly at Pogue Kray, whose black brows were lowered and glowering. He waved them off with one beefy hand, dismissing them. “Go with her,” he ordered, ignoring the fresh protestations of Skeal Eile, who was bent over his shoulder and whispering in his ear. He rose to his feet and slammed his fist on the table. “Council is dismissed.”

Panterra and Prue hurried to catch up with Aislinne, and in seconds they were through the door and into the empty black night.





SIX




AISLINNE KRAY STEPPED DOWN OFF THE VERANDA that fronted the council hall and looked over her shoulder at Panterra and Prue. “That wasn’t the smartest thing you’ve ever done,” she said, and they could see the anger glittering in her green eyes.

“So we’ve been told,” Pan admitted. “But don’t blame Prue; it was my idea. I knew what the reaction was likely to be.”

Aislinne grunted. “I doubt that you have any idea even now what the reaction is likely to be.”

“Pan just did what Sider Ament told him he needed to do,” Prue declared defensively. “He wasn’t trying to cause trouble. They didn’t have to attack him that way.”

Panterra put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Maybe we ought to just go to bed.”

“Not just yet,” Aislinne said at once. “I’m not finished with you. Is your house empty, Pan? Good. We’ll go there. We need to talk.”