could not tell if she had been talking to him or herself.
“You do not understand,” she said. “This herd of humans is mine. Mine by right. It was my mother’s mother’s before me and will produce for my daughters. But humans rebel against the natural order of things. It has ever been so. And if they would rebel against me, then think what they’d do if one such as yourself was set to watch over and harvest them. No, humans do best when one of their own sits at their head. Your part is to cull the herd. Nothing more.”
A part of Hunger recoiled at this information. Harvesting humans? Then he thought of how she taught him to unravel things, and he knew what she wanted to harvest.
A wave of her ease washed over him. What did it matter what she wanted. Or if she lied. She was so beautiful. So kind.
His alarm faded away.
“They are hidden, the ones that stink. Hidden so even the Mother who stole this herd from my ancestors could not find them. But you have been created to root them out.”
Hunger thought. A word came to him for the ones that stink—Sleth. That was their name. And he immediately knew where the men had taken one of them. He’d learned this not from following any scent trail, for the scent had ended in the fires. No, that knowledge had been one of the first things that had tumbled into him from Barg. Purity the Sleth was going to be held in a stone cage in Whitecliff. He could take her. Sleth would do anything to keep their secrets. They would go so far as to hunt and kill captured members of their nests, which meant if he did take her, he could then use her as bait to find the others.
“You will spare these?” he asked.
“Your kind is so weak. How you ever overpowered the Mothers I will never know.”
“Will you spare them?”
“You have two nights,” she said. She held up the stomach that contained his family. “If you fail, know that I and my daughters are hungry, and these firstlings will be prepared for our feast.”
SNARE
B
lue wouldn’t let Talen near the wound. The dog had licked until the bleeding stopped, but if corruption set in and spread, they would have to put him down. Talen could not believe what had just happened. And Da was wrong: those men would be back.
He and Nettle went back to the house and found Da standing at the hearth. Three large red onions sat roasting on a pile of embers there. A pot of porridge hung from a crane over a cooking fire. The fish they’d filleted earlier were sizzling in a yet another pan. Da poked at them with a knife. The ends of his beard braids were tucked into the collar of his tunic to keep them from getting into the fire or falling into the food.
Ke sat at the table, propping himself up with his elbows. There was no bowl or plate before him.
“Shouldn’t River be back by now?” asked Talen.
Da swung the crane, and the pot of barley that hung from it, out of the hearth. “Don’t you worry about River. She’ll be fine.”
Da was probably right. River could take care of herself. She might not be as strong as Ke, but she knew woodcraft. She had her bow. And, if it came to it, he doubted any but a dreadman could run her down.
Da lifted the pot off the crane with a hook and brought it to the table. He took off the lid and dropped a large spoonful into each of their bowls, then he put a small chunk of butter onto the top. They rarely ate their porridge in the sweet Mungo style. “By the time you’ve eaten that, the fish and onions will be ready.”
Talen turned to Ke. “What did you find?”
“I followed the armsmen to their mounts,” said Ke. “Then I followed them to the edge of the forest. They’re headed out to Fir-Noy lands.”
That could mean the armsmen had given up or were going to make an official complaint. But Talen doubted that was the case. Da had just humiliated a Hammer; that surely wouldn’t go unpunished. “They’re probably circling round or going to gather a mob,” said Talen. He turned to Da. “We’re sitting here like a bunch of cattle.”
“We’ll watch,” said Da. “And it’s true somebody needs to go talk to the bailiff, but it’s too