Free Exile's Children by Angus Wells Page B

people to come tell us we are invaded? Shall we wonder if the fire burns and not go look? Only
wait
until we see the flames rise?”
    â€œWhat do you suggest?” asked Juh.
    â€œThat we set watchers, at the least,” Racharran answered. “Warriors to guard the hills and speak with the Grannach. That we may know what threatens us.”
    â€œI think my brother doubts the Maker,” Chakthi said. “Surely the Will promises us safety here.”
    Tahdase leaned toward Isten, whispering a moment, then said, “This
is
the promise of the Ahsa-tye-Patiko: that we be secure here.”
    Chakthi nodded gravely. Rannach saw Colun stiffen, and Racharran murmur with Morrhyn even as he reached out to touch the Grannach’s hand, silencing his angry retort.
    Carefully, Racharran said, “I do not question the Will. But I ask the Council to consider a question: Are we tested? Perhaps the Maker chooses to test us.”
    â€œAnd finds some wanting,” said Chakthi.
    Juh motioned for silence. “It may be so.” He looked to Racharran, to Colun, at each akaman and wakanisha in turn. “If all we have heard is true, then it may well be a great test comes to us. If this horde our Grannach friend speaks of owns such strength as he describes, then we face a dreadful test; and we must think carefully about what we are to do. I say this is not a thing we can decide in a single Council, but a matter to sleep on, to ponder and approach with caution.”
    Caution? Rannach thought. Colun brings warning of a horde come out of the Maker-knows-where with blood and fire, and we must ponder it? What we should do, old man, is what my father says—ready for the fight.
    â€œThis is wise.” Tahdase’s voice interrupted his angry thoughts. “We need time to think on this.”
    â€œWhat’s to think on?” Yazte stabbed a finger in the direction of the Maker’s Mountain. “Do you doubt Colun? Are we to sit talking—
thinking!
—until this horde comes to us?”
    â€œShall it come tomorrow?” Tahdase addressed himself to Colun, who—irritably—shook his head. “Surely we’ve a little time?”
    The Grannach shrugged and nodded reluctantly. Juh said, “And the wakanishas sit in Dream Council tomorrow, no? Can we not give it that long, at the least?”
    â€œI support my elder brother,” Chakthi said.
    â€œAnd I,” said Tahdase.
    Juh smiled. “Then shall it be so? Shall this Council form again after our wakanishas have spoken? And we decide then?”
    Tahdase and Chakthi ducked their heads in ready accord; Racharran and Yazte were slower, but—with scant choice left them—agreed.
    â€œThen so,” Juh said, “let the wakanishas speak of this and all other matters on the morrow, and all well, this Council shall reconvene and we reach a decision.”
    They seemed to Rannach blind as horses grazing downwind of a lion: oblivious of impending danger. All save his father and Yazte. He thought that Chakthi likely argued for procrastination only becauseRacharran argued for preparation. Juh, he thought, was an old man dreaming of a peaceful old age, disinclined to consider such turmoil as Colun warned of; and Tahdase was aged beyond his years, cautious as a rabbit with fox-scent on the air. He snorted his disgust loud enough one of the older warriors turned to fix him with a disapproving stare. Rannach knew what he would do were he akaman of the Commacht.
    He turned his head to see the faces of his friends, and knew that they should be with him: their eyes burned with dreams of glorious battle.
    â€œI’d speak with Colun of these warriors,” Bakaan whispered.
    â€œWhen my father addresses the clan,” Rannach answered, “you shall have your say. And Colun will be about our camp tomorrow.”
    Hadustan said, “Think you Racharran shall speak for war?”
    Zhy said, “It must be the