Hammer and Feather Ch. 33-40

Cyran felt a chill as Isca's voice washed over him. He bowed his head and took a breath to steady himself. His father had said that using his gifts was almost like prayer, focusing on what you desired but opening your hand at the same time. The advice to simply be who and what he was to the core of him also came unbidden to mind and he smiled faintly.

Isca's voice brought him partly out of his thoughts. "It would be so easy to like you, Syreilla. You returned the stones to their masters?"

"Of course."

"You're a thief, you weren't tempted to keep them?"

"You misunderstand what kind of thief my father raised." Syreilla was lying through her teeth, he could feel it. "I only steal what I'm pointed at for my employer."

"Liar!" Isca chuckled. "You're your father's daughter through and through. You still have one in your pocket. I can feel the power. Rielle's stone."

"Not at all! I'd offer to show you but drawing weapons might make the mortals nervous."

"You put that power in a blade?" Isca sounded approving, "Nimphon must have helped you. He created the blade you used on my daughter. It was intended to harm me."

"I have no intention of putting my boot knife in your heart, Isca. My plans are a little more fiery." Syreilla's words held hints of untruth but they weren't a lie. They felt like an itchy tunic.

"You sent the god of pain and punishment to wreak havoc because I finally succeeded in getting into a mine."

"No." His cousin laughed and this answer felt like truth. "My husband and I quarreled. He decided to surprise me by doing something sweet."

"Slaughtering unsuspecting soldiers is sweet?"

"From his point of view. He's the god of punishment and pain. I coddle children and rain fire on those who would harm them, you stir up the blood and send men out to kill, my husband revels in screams and the rending of flesh." The itching from words that were not quite a lie was back again. "When you give a gift you stick to what you know, yes?"

"He claimed you asked him to. His words, I believe, were, 'Lady Rook has deemed these human soldiers worthy of my attentions.'"

"I have. All of your soldiers. If they don't leave the field, go home and stay there, they're his. All who die and are deserving of punishment go before my husband and I've told him to give special attention to your soldiers. The only one who's been granted mercy is your daughter. You gave her the proper rights and she has my feather. That feather will see her treated gently and if she's still done too much to go directly to my uncles and rest peacefully, she'll come before me. I will judge her by my own measure as I judge mages and thieves." Truth.

"You hold my daughter hostage."

"No, we made a bargain and you can rely on a Rook. Nali remains safe. She's a child and I owe Orsas-"

"I want my daughter to be guaranteed peaceful rest. Name your price."

Syreilla paused. "You do realize that if you break your word to me-"

"I won't." A lie.

"No more children are to be harmed. Not elf, human, or dwarf. You and yours are still owed fire and vengeance for what's been done, I gave my word to an elf child with mutilated ears, but if you stop your soldiers from harming all children from this point on I will give Itia peace."

"Lady Rook!"

"Elf, who am I?" Syreilla's tone felt dangerous and for a moment he could feel things moving around him as if he stood in the dark and things were being thrown past him.

"The Golden Rook. Goddess of vengeance-"

"Righteous vengeance."

The man's voice was so quiet as to be inaudible.

"Who worships me?"

"All three races, Lady Rook." The answer was barely loud enough to understand.

"All three?" Isca sounded almost approving. "Impressive. Killing the dwarf wouldn't have harmed you as much as I expected. I didn't expect the dwarves to truly allow you to claim a place."

"No, but I love her. Children are dear to me and you've been harming them. As for allowing me a place, Orsas gave me Clan Palestrike but he's holding the clans I really want out of my reach until I prove my usefulness. He's a flirt but he's a practical flirt."

Cyran nearly laughed, his cousin was lying through her teeth again and he approved. The feeling was like an embrace but all of his clothing was coarse and unpleasant.

Isca didn't seem to notice, laughing at the words. "That sounds like a dwarf. I'll take your bargain, Syreilla. And I'll offer another."

"I'm listening."

"Meetings on the field will follow the rules and be civil, but even if they forget themselves, you won't murder any more of my priests. In exchange, I'll release to you all elvish children that are in my soldiers' cages." Something about the words was an untruth.

"You want me to promise not to kill any more of your priests, a blanket promise on or off the field? You'll have to give me more than that and even then they're only spared from my hand, not from those who belong to me."

Isca chuckled, "I'll hear a counter-proposal."

"Release all of your captives, whatever their race. Allow the elves to come to us here, allow dwarves to return to the mines, allow humans to return to their homes, and if you have any gods they go to Grandfather's home-"

Isca's laughter cut her off, "You ask for too much and offer too little."

"I haven't made my offer yet." Syreilla's reasonable and nearly innocent tone made him break into a grin.

"Please."

"I'll have the offer issued to allow your priests to go freely if they leave the field of whatever battle it might be. No matter what they've done, if they withdraw entirely, they'll be spared. Your priests would be safe from me and those I've been given as long as they don't join the fight. No more bursting into flames because they annoyed me, none of my elves will put arrows in their necks, no one of Clan Palestrike will put axes in their bellies, and none of my mages will turn their bones to stone and boil their blood inside their bodies. I won't even send my rooks to pluck out their eyes." Another vaguely itchy truth.

"If they forsake me-"

"I never said that. You can keep them. They just have to leave the field. Withdraw. And not in the middle of the fight, they withdraw when the offer is given. They won't be harmed by me or any of mine as long as they do and don't return to join the fight. They can tend your wounded after and, outside of the battlefield, I won't seek them out to harm."

For the briefest flash like a spark escaping a bonfire, he could see it clearly, the way Syreilla was juggling events like her knives, and feel the events in motion around him again. He opened his eyes and took a step back.

"Will your husband be sparing them?"

"I can ask him to. He's a little sour with you and when Vezar tore in two, one half got the reasonable nature and the other is all fury and passion. I might be able to persuade him that your priests fall under the soldier umbrella enough to come to him in death so he'll get them eventually but I wouldn't wager anything I cared to lose on it."

"My priests should be protected in death, there are rules."

Closing his eyes, Cyran stepped forward, opening his hands and breathing. He would lend all the support he could.

"If there are rules, he knows them. I only learn them when I bump against them."

The words made him smile, they were true. But from her tone, she didn't expect them to be taken as such.

Isca snorted. "Anyone who takes you for a fool deserves to burn. I won't accept the terms."

He felt his shoulders slumping, she relied on him and he was failing. Syvezar laid a hand on his shoulder and Cyran took a steadying breath. Before he could think of what to do, Syreilla began to speak again in a conversational tone.

"I collected a handful of mages from the camp on my visit. I made my offer to the priests as well and it's open. I don't ask a great deal. The power I liberate for them, they use on my behalf during this war. Those who are under my protection are safe from them. In exchange, my husband, the god of punishment and pain, allows them a way to speak with dead mages and learn from them. But what I ask of them doesn't end with this war; it carries over to their apprentices and their apprentices' apprentices to the end of time. After the war, I will call on them for one task only, to put their differences aside and bring anyone trying to dry up the magic, the way your priests do, again to a painful end. They're free to go where they want and do what they will outside of that. They've taken up the title of Magus now."

What his cousin had said about words never failing and seeds on salted earth came back to him in a rush and he broke into a smile again. He could feel that at least a few of the priests were tempted by the offer and all were frightened of her threats. She might have spent twenty years alone in the black lake while he was learning the rules and other hard lessons but she was still capable of giving him an education.

"I can make one offer or the other before every battle."

"I will agree to the first offer on one further condition."

"Please."

"Your priests and all who you claim, even the birds, must leave the field as well if mine do."

There was a moment of silence as if she wished to make a show of contemplating it. "Very well."

"Lady-"

There was a gasp around him.

"All captives will be released. Deserters will go home, elves will come to this camp, dwarves will go to the mines. The gods and goddesses who no longer wish to support me may go to the underworld." Isca's tone was pleased but the itch of untruth overlaid it.

"Grandfather still has two homes, doesn't he? They've been dripping information to me." Truth.

Cyran frowned to himself he hadn't realized that she was being kept in the dark on so much.

"His mountain home was given to Zyulla. Most of them are there with her."

"They aren't permitted to leave?"

"Not without my permission." Truth.

"Then just let Grandfather open a door between that home and the doorstep. I was going to suggest they stay in the nicer house but have the option to go to the other."

"Agreed," Isca's tone made him itch and he wasn't sure why.

"Agreed," Syreilla's tone however made the hair rise on the back of his neck. There was a thrill and a sense of foreboding, it reminded him of her widest grin.

"Should I make the offer now or is there a truce until tomorrow?"

"We're at war, Rook. I don't offer truces." Truth.

"AS HAS BEEN AGREED, IF YOUR PRIESTS WITHDRAW FROM THE FIELD ENTIRELY THEY WILL BE SPARED MY DRAGON'S FIRE, NONE OF MY ELVES WILL PUT ARROWS IN THEIR NECKS, NO ONE OF CLAN PALESTRIKE WILL PUT AXES IN THEIR BELLIES, NONE OF MY MAGES WILL TURN THEIR BONES TO STONE AND BOIL THEIR BLOOD INSIDE THEIR BODIES, AND NONE OF MY ROOKS WILL PLUCK OUT THEIR EYES. THEY LEAVE IN SAFETY FROM ME AND THOSE WHO ARE MINE. AND AS HAS BEEN AGREED, IF YOUR PRIESTS LEAVE THE FIELD THOSE WHO ARE MINE WILL AS WELL."

His ears were ringing and Cyran opened his eyes, closing his hands. He glanced at Syvezar and they stepped out to speak to Syreilla as she returned. Her walk was more of a saunter as she made her way back.

The elves clustered around the one who looked slightly singed, Ruthanar might have been his name.

"I do apologize for that." She grinned at them. "But you were threatening to knock off my aim."

"I saw it, cousin." Cyran broke into a smile. "I lent you my support and I could see the events in motion. For a moment I was afraid, and I stepped back, but-"

"I felt your support and I thank you."

"You know she was lying..." Kwes frowned. "She isn't going to release anyone."

A cry went up as the lines readied themselves and Syreilla shrugged with a faint smile. "She's going to try to wound us with their release and then she'll see what happens when you break your word to a Rook.

"Bring my mages up here and give us a good vantage. They may like to learn a few simple wards."

Cyran embraced her. "Syreilla, I thank you. After the battle, I will try to tell you all I know about events and the rules I've learned if you wish to know. You never carry yourself as if you're at a disadvantage of knowledge."

"I can't limit myself with the rules if I don't know them." She grinned viciously and he laughed.

"If you have limits, cousin, I hope you never find them."

*Thirty-six*

Nali grinned, stroking the elderly raven that had taken a liking to her shoulder as a perch, while Raduil hunted for stray feathers, occasionally getting scolded by the other ravens. He'd come with Razi for lunch and been given permission to stay for a bit longer by Khadom as Sirruil helped her take things back home.

"Why is he collecting old feathers?" Khurum inched closer with a smile.

"Lady Rook likes feathers. If you carry one for luck she approves."

"She likes ravens?" He reached out and stroked the one on her shoulder.

"She does, but I think she likes most birds. If you meet her she seems a lot like a bird sometimes, and she flies. She was a giant bird of flame as she flew from the elvish line to the human one. Baduil seemed very proud of her."

Khurum looked as if he were trying to decide if she were teasing or not. After a moment he asked, "Why did you name the raven Badwill?"

"Ba-du-il. Baduil." Nali narrowed her eyes at him. "I didn't name him, Lady Rook did."

"She named him after Batran, the dwarf that was like a father to her, and my father, Kaduil." Sirruil had come back without her noticing. He patted Raduil on the head as he passed by where the boy was laying out his feathers to inspect. "I knew it as soon as I heard the name."

"She named him like a child." Khadom smiled from his seat near the large entrance. "I give my birds names but not like that. The one on your shoulder is Walp."

"Walp," the bird croaked out.

Nali laughed and nodded. "He's a good bird."

The raven fussed and Khadom shook his head. "She."

"I'm sorry, Walp. I know how you feel. I had an elf call me 'Master Dwarf'."

The men broke into laughter and Raduil looked at her in surprise. "They thought you were a boy?"

"The others corrected him pretty quickly."

"It's the beard." Sirruil shook his head. "My mother was beardless and she said all of the women and a lot of the men outside the mines were too. Father was much more handsome in her opinion and she must have brought home hundreds and hundreds of beads for my sister. She was giddy about it when Kyri got her beard.

"Grandfather wasn't as pleased with it. He asked if she really wanted a beard because without it she looked so much like our mother." He paused. "I thought my mother was going to hit him. She backed him into the pantry and Father took us upstairs. When he came up to us he apologized to Kyri, he hadn't meant it as an insult. He said she was beautiful with her beard and there was never another comment about it."

"I'd heard your mother was a half-elf?" Khadom smiled.

"She was, but she acted like a dwarf."

The memory of Syreilla Hammersworn's lineage struck Nali and she grabbed hold of her father's arm. "I forgot to tell you! She was part dwarf. They were discussing it, Great-grandfather Odos and Orsas Fellforger. Her mother was from some King's line and his daughter had married a dwarf, the head of Clan Palestrike who was the Master of a mine. Not all of her children stayed, some went back to her kin and that's who Grandmother-"

Sirruil broke into laughter, pulling her into an embrace and earning a chiding from Walp.

"Tirnel said he'd forgotten there was dwarf in that line. He'd never have-"

"Tirnel Acharnion? She hated him." Sirruil pulled back with a rueful smile. "You met him?"

"He was trying to be better. He was kind to me."

"My mother would have been ecstatic if she'd known there were a few drops of dwarf blood in her veins."

"Orsas Fellforger said that Clan Palestrike was devious and bad-tempered."

"She took after them then." Her father grinned. "My mother... She was at least as devious as Grandfather and her temper was famous." He gave a look to Khadom, "It was never my father you had to look out for, if my mother went to have a word with someone, people stopped to watch."

Nali felt something tug at her attention and she hopped up going out to the edge. Ravens were returning. They landed and before Khadom could start untying the missives on their legs she knew what they'd seen.

"Lord Vedhethrah came to the aid of Master Hammersworn. They aren't sure where they should take the captives they've freed. The human soldiers are reforming their forces and they'll be ready for the dragon's attack next time."

She blinked. "It was Half Shaft. They got into Half Shaft Mine through the cavern. A few got away and managed to get word to other mines. They gathered as many to fight as they could... But if they're attacked out in the open they might not-"

"I'll carry word." Sirruil took the missives and left immediately.

"How do you know?" Khurum was staring at her when she turned around.

"I'd bet my beard Orsas gave Lady Rook the ravens." Khadom was giving Nali an approving look. "She won't need to tie messages to them. You can tell them what you need her to know."

"The soldiers need to get ready. The humans will follow them here." She turned and saw Raduil grimly holding a handful of feathers. "It's time for you to go back in. Take the feathers and clean them up. They'll be asked for when those who were captives get here. Keep one for yourself and pick one out for me. We're going to need the luck."

Nali took Walp to her perch but the elderly raven obstinately refused to budge. "If you want to stay with me, I'll be glad of your company, Walp."

"Walp."

She headed down to ask where her father had gone and one of the soldiers stopped her. "The birds stay up there."

"Walp is coming with me. I need to find my father and speak to the people he's speaking to."

"Your father might let you act like you own the mine-"

The flare of annoyance bubbled up and the murmur of the ward was leaving her mouth before she realized it.

"No," a voice firmly interrupted her and dispelled the forming ward. "They'll listen to Lady Rook's priestess without you having to start casting her wards and bullying them like a Rook."

The red-haired dwarf looked vaguely familiar and she inclined her head to him. "It feels important that I find my father and speak to the people he's speaking to."

"It is. Bring your bird, Nali Rookfriend."

He led the way to a room with banners on the wall and a table several dwarves were gathered around. She turned to thank him and he'd vanished. They looked up as she stepped in.

"Why are you-"

"It's important."

"Nali is Lady Rook's priestess." Sirruil stepped away and beckoned for her to come closer. "Maybe she can use the Eye better."

"No, Father, it's yours for now."

"He says the map is grey and hazy when he looks at it. It isn't helpful."

Nali came closer, nodding as she looked at the table. Walp flew from her shoulder and landed on the table edge.

"It's all dangerous and she doesn't want to risk the dwarves, not yet. She told Orsas Fellforger she would try to keep us all safe. He said she'd need us but she can't bear to risk our lives needlessly. She'll do everything she can first before she asks for us to come help. You have to ask differently.