Furies of Calderon - By Jim Butcher Page 0,120

the same time, eyes blazing, and though he remained silent, the sudden basso bellows of dozens of gargants rolled like thunder through the winter sky, in tandem with the more distant screams of uncounted horses.

Marat sprinted to the stones at the hilltop, though none of them stepped within their circle, pressing close, eyes wide and excited, gripping weapons, crowding to get close to see-and even so, they split themselves into three separate groups: slab-shouldered, heavily muscled Marat of Clan Gargant; Clan Wolf, silent and fang-toothed and hungry-looking; and Clan Horse, tall and lean with their hair shaved into wind-tossed white manes. The isolated hilltop transformed into the center of a seething mob, excited murmurs, brandished weapons, and threatening glances. Tension and violence rode on the air like leashed lightning, pent-up and straining for release.

Doroga moved then, standing atop his stone, and held his arms above his head. "Silence!" he roared, and his voice smothered sound atop the hill. "Silence, on the horto! Silence as a question is brought before The One!"

Tavi stared around him at the reaction his words had caused and discovered that he had turned and pressed his back to Fade. His limbs shook with reaction. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that Fade had assumed that same distant expression as before, eyes focused on nothing, though he had clasped one arm across Tavi's chest, fingers gripping the opposite shoulder steadily.

"Fade," Tavi whispered. "Are you all right?"

"Quiet, Tavi," Fade whispered back. "Do not move."

Silence stretched over the hill, the sound of moaning wind the only noise. From the corner of his eye, Tavi could see Skagara, crouched before his stone, staring at Tavi with something very like hatred. Some instinct warned Tavi not to make eye contact, that it would only set the Marat into a killing rage-and that all of Clan Wolf would follow their headman, turning the ring of stones into a blood-spattered slaughterhouse.

Tavi did not move. He barely breathed.

"We-the-Marat," Doroga said, turning in a slow circle. "We are the One-and-Many people, under The One. We prepare to march against the Alerans. We go to war at the words of Atsurak of the Sishkrak-ha. Atsurak the Bloody." His words spat the next words, and Tavi heard the insolent contempt in them. "Atsurak the Whelpkiller."

Snarls bubbled in the throats of dozens of Marat Wolves on the hilltop, and once again came the low, harsh howls of direwolves from somewhere down the slope and out of sight.

Doroga turned to face Clan Wolf without turning away from them, no trace of fear showing in his face. "Our law gives him that right, if none step forward to call him mistaken. To call him to the Trial of Blood." His finger swung to point at Tavi. "This Aleran calls Atsurak mistaken. This Aleran says that his people are no enemy of the Clans."

"He is not of the Clans," Skagara snarled. "He has no voice here."

"He stands accused with his people," Doroga shot back. "And the accused have a voice at the horto."

"Only if the headmen of the Clans decide that they do," said Skagara. "I say he does not. You say he does." He narrowed his eyes and stared at Hashat. "What says Clan Horse?"

Hashat only then unfolded from her relaxed slouch on her stone, rising and facing Skagara without speaking for a moment, the wind tossing her mane out to the side like a banner. Then she turned, took a step into Doroga's shadow, and folded her arms. "Let the boy speak."

Excited murmurs ran through the Marat atop the hill.

"Fade," Tavi whispered. "What is happening?"

Fade shook his head. "Don't know. Careful."

Doroga turned to Tavi and said, "Speak your belief, valleyboy. Bring it out before The One."

Tavi swallowed. He glanced back at Fade and then slipped away from the

slave, standing as straight as he could manage. He looked around the circle, at the Marat all staring at him with expressions of curiosity, contempt, hatred, or hope. "M-my people," he began, and choked, coughing, his stomach fluttering so nervously that he abruptly became certain he was going to sick up again.

"Hah," spat Skagara. "Look at him. Too afraid even to speak. Too afraid to bring what he believes before The One."

Doroga shot the Wolf headman a narrow-eyed glance. Then looked back at Tavi and said, "Valleyboy. If you would speak, now is the time."

Tavi nodded, swallowing a sour taste from his mouth, and straightened again. "I am not your enemy," he said. His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. This

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