The Named: The Complete Series

Chapter Seventeen

Ratha thought she would have no appetite, but the exercise of hunting brought it back, at least a little. And maybe the courageous banter among the Named helped to lift her spirits.

Courageous because she sensed that everyone, even Bundi and Mishanti, knew at bottom how bad things really were. In one blow, the Named had been stripped of everything they valued and needed: their land, their herdbeasts, the Red Tongue—even all their females but one had been captured.

New Singer had taken the fire-den, the source for all the brands and campfires. In capturing Bira and Fessran along with other Firekeeper females, he had also taken the means to keep fire alive and use it, if he so chose. Why then had his gang seized Thistle, Drani, and the others who were not Firekeepers?

The answer emerged out of Ratha’s memories of the fight and what followed. Her fur stiffened as she realized what New Singer and his group wanted from the imprisoned females.

“I thought you’d catch that prey soon,” Thakur said.

“I’m so stupid … I never thought … All males, no females. Young toms, eager to mate. That’s it, isn’t it, Thakur?”

“I don’t believe it was stupidity that made you avoid the idea,” Thakur answered gently and added, “I have somewhat the same problem, which is why it took me so long to see the answer.”

For us, mating is more than just coupling. There is love, and in love there is pain. Not just the pain of losing the one you choose, but the pain of looking at the young you birth and seeing eyes that will never see the world as you do, tongues that will never speak, minds that can never understand. And that the one you chose brought this upon you, or could bring it upon you, through no fault of his own.

That is why neither Thakur nor I could understand this. Though I may take a male in the courting season while he exiles himself instead, neither of us dares to love.

We are so similar, so close. Is that why I want him? I cannot think of that now.

“Tell me what happened,” Ratha said. “Mating is part of it, but killing cubs?”

“This is how things went,” Thakur began as the others settled close by.

Ratha stopped him. “Wait, we must post a watch.” She assigned Khushi and Bundi the task.

“I’ll speak loud enough so that they can hear as well,” said Thakur, and started again.

At first Ratha didn’t understand why he was recounting episodes such as the escaping face-tails, the canyon fire that killed True-of-voice’s hunters, and the schism within the other leader’s ranks that ejected New Singer and the other young hunter males.

Then, gradually, she began to see the sinews that bound the parts together.

“The ones slain in the canyon fire were all female,” Thakur emphasized. “Many hunter females died. The few females left would have been torn to pieces by both the old and young males fighting for them. True-of-voice had no choice. He had to drive the younger males out.” Thakur paused. “I’m not saying that he consciously decided to do this. I’m saying that something in him or the song told him he had to.”

“So that is why the song turned ‘black’ for Quiet Hunter and those like him,” Ratha muttered.

“And when you have a bunch of randy young toms, as my sweet Fessran would say,” said Cherfan who had awakened and come over with Mondir, leaving the cubs sleeping in a big pile, “they’ll go to the nearest source. And they did. Us.”

“How can they do that?” Ashon wrinkled his young nose. “It sounds so strange. We don’t do these things.”

Thakur looked at the half-grown male. His voice deepened, urging Ratha to listen closely. “We don’t do these things now, Ashon. But we used to do them.”

A vibrating silence followed his words, then a babble of protest.

“What?”

“No, we’d never—”

“Where did you hear that, herding teacher?”

“Let Thakur speak,” Ratha commanded, although she wanted to object as well.

Thakur continued, “My mother, Reshara, told me. I believe her, because it all makes sense. Back before Meoran’s rule, back before Baire and many clan leaders before him, when the Named were so many that we had to form separate clans, our ways were different. Reshara learned this from her mother, who heard it from her own, and so on. We had learned to herd instead of stalking, and our kind were flourishing.”

“There was such a time?” Ashon asked, his eyes wide.

“Yes, there was,” Thakur answered. “Before the coming of the Un-Named. That is another story. For now, what matters is that, although our people spoke and thought, they were more like beasts than we are now.”

“How did the change happen?” asked Khushi. “I mean from being beasts to not being beasts?”

“It just did. No one really knows how.”

“We’re still beasts. Look at Cherfan.” This was from Mondir.

“Maybe so,” Thakur said, as the big herder yawned off the insult, “but there’s something else in us.”

“Go on,” Ratha said.

“More males were born among us than females. The older males got the females, but they had to fight the younger ones for that right. To keep mating fights from tearing up our tribes, clan leaders had to force the younger males out. These exiles from one tribe became invaders of another, driving that tribe’s elders off and mating with the females. The usurpers killed any cubs sired by the old males. The invaders didn’t want to waste effort raising them when they could have sons and daughters of their own.”

“It makes sense in a cruel way,” said Khushi.

“It did. In some ways we were crueler than we are now.”

“If it made sense,” Ratha asked, “why did we stop?”

“When the Un-Named began attacking us, our numbers fell. We couldn’t afford to kill or drive out any of our own kind. That, in part, explains why we are different now. Why we care more about one another and our young.”

“So we became kinder. In order to survive,” Ratha mused. “Bira would like to hear that.” She paused. “So True-of-voice and New Singer are doing as our clan used to.”

“Yes, because they are our kind, although they have taken a different trail.” Thakur looked around at his listeners. “So now do you understand what has happened?”

“The canyon fire killed too many hunter females,” Khushi said. “But we didn’t start the fire—it was that Night-who-eats-stars.”

“If we hadn’t kept and tamed the Red Tongue, the star-eater wouldn’t have been able to misuse it,” Ratha answered. “We do bear some of the responsibility.”

“To True-of-voice, it didn’t matter,” Thakur resumed. “To restore balance, he exiled the young males, including his own son, who became New Singer. That’s why there were no females in their group.”

“Yes, you were worried about that,” said Ratha.

“So now that we know, what do we do?” asked Cherfan.

“First,” said Thakur, “we plan. Then we sleep. Ratha?” He tilted his head up to her.

She agreed. With food in their bellies, the Named were better able to think. They formed an irregular circle around Ratha and Thakur, reminding her of the comforting panther-pile they had made around her while she was suffering from grief and shock after the canyon fire.

The first thing, she said, was to recover as many of the herdbeasts as they could and find a protected place to graze them. Hunting could feed the Named in an emergency, but Ratha didn’t want her people to lose their herding ways.

“Uh, clan leader,” said Khushi, “if New Singer’s bunch captured Fess and the others for mating, shouldn’t we try to rescue them first before … ?”

Ratha heard the other clan males growling agreement. The thought of outsiders coupling with their females raised the fur on their napes.

It raised Ratha’s hackles, too … the thought of Thistle being forced …

No, she couldn’t let emotion run away with her. She had to think. She got up.

“The renegades can’t mate with Fessran and the others until those females come into heat.”

“How do you know they aren’t?” Mondir asked.

She waved her tail. “Because I’m not. You’d certainly know if I were. We all come in season together.”

Close by, she felt Thakur shift, as if to say, you may not be now, but you’re close. Just the thought was enough to bring a warm prickle up her back from the base of her tail. The stress of the attack had driven away the onset of her heat, but it would return soon. When it did, she would be less than useless to the Named, at least as a leader. She had less time than she thought.

“All right, tomorrow we go after the herdbeasts,” she announced. “After that, our friends.”

Everyone agreed and made a panther-pile around the cubs to keep them snug. Ratha, close to the center, appreciated the support and affection, but she was feeling hot and itchy. Wiggling her way out, she left through a crevice, seeking the cool night air. She told Bundi and Khushi that she was taking over their watch and they could go and sleep. Gratefully they did, leaving Ratha alone with the cloudy night sky and the scent of pinecones drying amid granite pebbles.

Though she had put up a good front for her people, now she slumped. She felt ragged, empty, and most of all, guilty. Retracing the trail of events in her mind, she found mistake after mistake. The biggest one was the first—choosing to rescue True-of-voice and restoring him to his people. It had felt like the right thing to do, but the choice had hurt the Named badly.

And I was stroking myself for being so farseeing and generous when I did it, she thought bitterly. If she had let True-of-voice die and the hunter tribe wither, the Named would still be on clan land, living in safety, herding, teaching cubs: all the things that meant the most to them. There would have been no fawn-killing, no canyon fire, no dead-gathering, no resulting imbalance, no rogue males, and no attack.

While trying to reach out to others, she had led the Named to disaster. Even her creature, the Red Tongue, couldn’t save them. It, too, was lost to her, along with her land, her daughter, and even her treeling.

And who as to blame? Night-who-eats stars, for stealing the Red Tongue and setting the canyon blaze? Perhaps a little. His crime was more ineptness than harmful intent. Not True-of-voice, for he bore no malice toward the Named. He was only acting out of necessity when he exiled the young males and unleashed New Singer on the clan. Not even New Singer himself, even though he had done so much damage to the clan that Ratha hated him. He was only following the age-old urge to breed.

A leader’s first duty was to her people. She had betrayed that duty. She no longer deserved to lead. Another could do better.

Like the clouds creeping across the sky, engulfing the stars, Ratha felt despair creeping over her, flattening her, dissolving her down until her drooping chin and whiskers sagged upon her paws, and her tail, limp, hung over the edge of the boulder where she crouched.

It wasn’t in her nature to be cruel or harsh. She had to force herself to be stern. Kindness came more easily. Had she indulged herself at the expense of her people by taking the easy trail? Had kindness and the wish to be thought of as such been just an illusion that enticed her and her people off a fatal hidden edge?

Inside, she cried at the unfairness of it all. What she had felt so strongly to be right—kindness, reaching out, looking beyond—they weren’t what made a leader. The tyrants Meoran, Shongshar—even they were better leaders than she. Cruel as they were, they would have led the Named to triumph rather than destruction.

It would be better for the clan if she just crept away. She felt mocked by the ghosts of the tyrants she thought she had defeated. Were they right after all in believing that a female didn’t have the strength to lead, that she would always be seduced by gentleness, kindness?

She didn’t realize that she had let a despairing cry escape her until she felt a paw on her shoulder and the ends of whiskers brushing her cheek.

“What we are now,” Thakur’s voice said, “could not be ruled by the old ways of claws and teeth, or even the new way of the Red Tongue. Never mistake kindness for weakness, Ratha. Kindness takes far more strength than cruelty.”

There was more than understanding in his voice, or even affection. There was love.

It made her gulp and then choke out all the despairs that rent and tore her. He listened quietly.

“I’m no leader. I only became one by accident and then stayed when you placed the torch in my mouth,” she moaned. “Ever since then, all I’ve done is blunder. I misjudged Shongshar. I was blind about True-of-voice, and New Singer took me by surprise.” She took a sobbing breath. “I can’t even keep a proper watch without getting distracted by my feelings! If anyone came, they’d have easily gotten past me.”

In answer, Thakur turned his head one way, to where Ashon stood, looking silvery in a shaft of moonlight. When he turned his head the other way, she followed his head to Mondir, eyes gleaming, ears erect.

“They asked me if they could come out and take the watch. They wanted to. They know it is hard to keep alert when you suffer.”

“A leader shouldn’t go to mush like this,” Ratha growled. “If I suffer, I deserve it. Look at what I’ve done.”

“Yes, look at what you’ve done,” Thakur said, soft mockery lilting his voice. “Created a clan where all can speak without fear and know they will be heard. Where all feel safe; where they can use their talents without being squashed; where they can be safe, live, mate, raise cubs in freedom. Where I can teach and grow with my students, Fessran can rant, Mishanti can be a nuisance, Thistle-chaser can be stubborn, Bira can groom that tail of hers; most of all, you’ve created a clan where we can be ourselves.” He stopped for breath. “You know how precious that is, Ratha. I’ve seen you fight savagely for it.”

She felt her ribs heave in a deep sigh. “You shouldn’t trust something precious to someone who stumbles and loses it.”

“Since when does a leader have no right to stumble or fall? Only if you have someone or something else doing your thinking for you, like True-of-voice’s hunters, can anyone expect you to always be perfect. ” Thakur’s teeth flashed as he spoke. “You may feel like everything is lost, Ratha, but we haven’t lost what is most important, and we won’t, unless we deliberately give it up.”

“I feel I should just step aside and let you or Cherfan take over. As the only female left among you, maybe the best I can do is give you cubs. I’m not sure I can even do that.”

Thakur crouched down before her, nudging her head up with his nose, looking her in the eyes. His eyes had a deep glow that penetrated the blanket of despair she had cast over herself. “Ratha, if you really feel this way, I won’t argue you out of it. It wouldn’t be me who leads. I’m a teacher, not a leader, and they know that. Cherfan could, but he’s not really a leader.” Thakur paused. “Besides, you wouldn’t really be happy, and we wouldn’t be either.”

“ ‘In your eyes I will always see challenge,’ ” Ratha said. “That is what Meoran said to me when I promised to obey him in order to return to the clan.”

“The one thing he was right about,” said Thakur gently. “Yes, eventually you would challenge. I wouldn’t want to face you. Neither would Cherfan or any of the rest.”

“Being a leader has spoiled me. I don’t think I could to go back to being a clan female, or even just a Firekeeper or herder.”

“You could if you truly wanted, but I don’t think you do. Not yet.” He paused. “Don’t make any decisions now. Come inside and rest. You’ve had a bad shock and you‘re spent. Let things go for a while.”

Ratha felt a yawn building up in the back of her jaws and gave in to it. Hauling herself back to her feet, she followed Thakur back inside their refuge.

“We’ll get Thistle back,” she heard him say as she finally let herself drift loose, floating into sleep. “And Fessran, Bira, and the others. I promise.”

In the morning came a pleasant surprise. Ratha woke to the sound of a joyous tumult outside the rock-fall shelter. Mixed into it was the sound of small hooves. Startled, she tumbled out, fur sticking up at all angles. She saw Mondir, Khushi, and Ashon dancing around a newcomer and three dapplebacks. Unsure, she sniffed and then knew. Quiet Hunter had returned, bringing the little horses with him. To Ratha’s sleep-blurred eyes, his back looked a little odd, a little lumpy. Then, as her vision focused and she caught more scents, she realized what the bumps were.

One lump leaped off Quiet Hunter and bounded to her, chirring excitedly. Small wiry arms encircled her neck, fingers wove into her fur, treeling-scent surrounded her. Ratharee!

Ratha was so involved in the return of her treeling that she couldn’t pay attention to anything else. Finally looking up from all the licks and nuzzles, she saw that Quiet Hunter had brought back all the treelings, even Thistle’s Biaree and Bira’s Cherfaree. With Ratharee clinging to her nape once again, Ratha rushed inside to wake Thakur. He bounced to his feet and shot through the crevice. When Ratha came after him, she saw him sitting up on his hind feet, cradling his Aree between his forepaws while the treeling licked his face so vigorously that he toppled over backward, grinning with delight.

Quiet Hunter still had two furballs left. Cherfan sauntered up, his tail curving. He smelled Cherfaree. “Since that bug-eater’s got my name, I’ll take him until Bira comes back.”

“This one will keep Biaree for Thistle-chaser,” Quiet Hunter replied.

“I thought you didn’t like treelings,” Cherfan said, as Cherfaree sniffed him cautiously, then made a quick decision and skipped up to his nape.

“This one … I didn’t. But I felt so bad when I nearly killed the cub I felt this one had to do something … To make up for it.”

“Quiet Hunter, I’m so glad to see you,” Ratha said, nose-touching and then sliding alongside him with a tail-flop. “And not just for bringing the treelings back, either. We missed you.”

“How did you get those dapplebacks all the way from the meadow up here?” Mondir wanted to know.

“They weren’t in the meadow. New Singer isn’t looking after the herdbeasts and they are straying. After find the treelings, this one came upon these horses.”

“You weren’t seen or chased?”

“This one was chased, but the chasing only made the horses run fast ahead of me.”

“You still had to round them up and bring them here,” Ratha said, still buoyed by Ratharee’s return. “And with the treelings, too. Quiet Hunter, you are amazing!”

“It took me all night. This one is a bit sleepy,” he confessed.

Giving his face a last grateful lick, Ratha asked Mondir and Khushi to take care of the little horses while she led Quiet Hunter inside, fed him, and then settled him and Biaree in the most comfortable place she could find.

“I know you want to hear about Thistle-chaser,” he said, making Ratha’s heart give a sudden bound. “She and the others—New Singer is not treating them badly. They are frightened but not hurt, and they are being fed. New Singer has Fessran and Bira making Red-Tongue-nests for him. This one hid and saw.” His gold eyes darkened to deep amber. “This one wants Thistle back. I will fight for her.”

“That time will come,” Ratha promised, watching his eyes close. And I’ll be right beside you.

That same day, Cherfan and Thakur led a team to catch more of the straying herdbeasts. Ratha led another to watch New Singer and his Named captives.

Quiet Hunter was right—the renegades were not treating the clan females badly. Ratha couldn’t get close enough to speak to any of the captives, but she and her party saw that Fessran was keeping the blaze in the fire-den alive. Bira was even allowed, under guard, to gather wood and stack it in the fire-den. Ratha paid close attention to how far Bira was allowed to go, and which renegades guarded her on these trips. Sometimes Thistle went with Bira to help carry the wood back.

Ratha remembered the joyful dancing around and through the fire-den when they had first dug it; the Named and their treelings celebrating the end of Shongshar’s tyranny. Now the fire-den and the Red Tongue had again fallen under the control of a usurper. How long would the seizure last this time, and could the Named ever dance around the fire-lair again?

We will. I swear that we will.

Thakur and Cherfan returned with a few more herdbeasts and found a sheltered area nearby to graze them. Ratha returned with the beginnings of a plan to free her friends from New Singer. It would have to wait until next day, however, and Ratha still felt drained from the previous two days. She meant to think over her plan and discuss it with Thakur on the rocky sill just outside the refuge. Instead, before twilight, she fell asleep with her treeling still on her back, leaving Thakur keeping watch.