Age of Swords (The Legends of the First Empire #2)

The rain had disrupted life under the wool.

Even after it stopped, the ground remained soft. The beaten grass became a muddy mess, then a serious problem as poles refused to stay rooted. Moving anything heavy turned into a monumental chore. Old paths were abandoned for firmer footing, and elevation became the new standard for prosperity. A large, shallow pool had formed in the low basin midway along the wall. The Great Puddle, as it came to be known, displaced several squatters and divided the camp into East and West Puddle. Being on the incline, West Puddle was more desirable, and it was there that Habet built private quarters for Persephone. Apparently, it pained him to see his chieftain sitting on the ground with everyone else. He’d persuaded Farmer Wedon and Bruce Baker to help erect a two-chambered enclosure where they placed the First Chair, the only thing Habet had been able to salvage from the ruined lodge.

Persephone never used it.

She remained in East Puddle among the stacked baskets, bundled tools, and the people fearing more rain. There wasn’t any thought in her selection, no political statement being made. Persephone had settled in East Puddle because that was where Brin, Moya, Padera, and Roan were. She had no intention of leaving them. At least not until that night.

“You’re going where?” Moya shouted at Persephone while the chieftain packed.

“Across the strait to Belgreig,” Persephone said while stuffing a blanket into a sack. “If Arion and Suri take care of a giant for the Dherg, then I’ll get weapons for the war.” She turned to Padera. “Do you think it will be cold? Should I bring my breckon mor?” She’d never been to Belgreig. For all she knew, it might be snowing there.

“Better to have than regret,” Padera said, sitting in her pillows of wool and sewing together what looked to be a sack.

“Who else is going?” Moya asked.

“No one. Oh, well, except for the dwarfs, of course.”

“Just you three and the shrimps?” Moya asked in a tone that suggested Persephone was insane. “What about Raithe?” she said to Malcolm, who was in the process of filling a waterskin from the large barrel.

“Hasn’t said anything to me,” Malcolm replied. “Does he know? This is the first I’ve heard.” He turned to Persephone. “Do you want me to—”

“No,” she said quickly.

Everyone stared.

“But he’s your Shield. He has to go,” Moya said.

“Not my Shield anymore.”

“What? When did that happen?” Moya had planted her hands on her hips in an excellent imitation of Persephone’s mother. The likeness would have been perfect except Moya wore a short sword slung low on one hip. She’d gotten it as a gift from Tekchin. “How did—”

“He can’t be my Shield and sit as a chieftain, so I released him before the council met. And I forbid each of you from saying anything. He might insist on coming or try to chase after me. I need him to stay here and become keenig. To do that, he has to attend the meetings so the other chieftains can convince him.”

“Don’t you need to be there? You called for the clan assembly. You can’t run off in the middle of it.”

“Any decisions will be made by Tegan, Harkon, Lipit, and Krugen—the chieftains who still have clans. Raithe’s people are all but extinct, and yet he has more say than me. He’s the God Killer; I’m only the widow of a chieftain. My words have about as much impact as raindrops. But if I can bring back weapons—good ones—maybe Raithe will change his mind about being the keenig. If he does, I think the others will pledge their allegiance.”

“What about Brin?” Malcolm asked. “You’re taking her, aren’t you?”

“No, I—”

“But this sounds like an incredible opportunity,” Malcolm said. “I don’t think anyone…well, any human…has ever set foot on Belgreig. You’ll want her there to remember it.”

Brin’s expression lit up at the suggestion.

“She needs to stay.” Persephone pointed at Brin. “To witness the choosing of the keenig. That’s of far greater importance.”

“But there are other Keepers for that,” the girl said. “I can get the story from them when I get back.”

Persephone looked at Brin, whose eyes were filled with eagerness. Persephone sighed in resignation. “Okay, fine.”

Brin jumped up, grabbed a sack of her own, and started stuffing items inside. She gathered a stack of the slates as well.

“You aren’t taking those, are you?”

Brin looked down at the three stone tablets as if they were a beloved puppy. “I mark on them.”

“You what?”

“I draw memories on them. It helps me keep an accurate account. Roan understands them. Others could, too. When it comes time for me to train a new Keeper, she can just look at these tablets and know everything. I started using chalk, but it smears too easily. Now I’m making deep scratches.”

“The tablets look heavy.”

“I’ll manage.”

Persephone had finished packing and Moya gave her a scornful look. “And what about your Shield? If you dismissed Raithe, who’s the replacement?”

“Nobody. Don’t need one,” Persephone said.

“Seph, you’re going to a foreign land to face a giant…you need protection. For the love of Mari, you should be taking a war party!”

Persephone scowled. Moya really was sounding like Persephone’s mother, which irritated and amazed Persephone, and made her miss her parents all at the same time. “We’re going with Arion. She’s better than fifty strong men.”

“She’s a Fhrey.”

“So?”

“So I don’t trust her to protect you.”

“Moya, we’re going on a ship as the guests of the Dherg, to a city where Brin and I will likely spend our time in a room doing nothing while Arion and Suri dispatch this giant.

“I’m sure Brin will have a lot to take in,” Persephone went on. “But I’ll likely be bored to tears.”

Moya didn’t look appeased.

“What?” Persephone asked. “What do you want from me, Moya?”

Moya clapped her hands against her sides. “There’s no other choice. I’m going with you.”

“You are?” Roan spoke for the first time, sounding concerned.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Moya,” Persephone said.

“You don’t think I can protect you?” Moya drew the blade at her side and held it up. “Tekchin has been training me. He says I’m learning fast. And I’ve impressed everyone.”

“Are you sure it’s your fighting skills he was talking about, my dear?” Padera asked.

Moya whirled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

No one dared answer, but both Brin and Persephone struggled to suppress a laugh.

Moya glared, and then swept the blade across her body. She spun and executed an impressive downstroke, followed by a fast somersault. Back on her feet, she swept again and halted the blade just inches from Persephone’s throat, positioned in a threatening manner.

Persephone jumped back and nearly fell.

No one had laughter to suppress after that.

Moya slammed the sword back into its scabbard. “I’m coming with you.”

“Okay,” Persephone said.

“And so is Roan,” Moya added.