Spider Wars: Book Three of the Black Bead Chronicles (35 page)

Only Erin and Soral followed
in her wake as she stepped into the circle to approach her Mothers.
Cheobawn stopped at the place normally reserved for petitioners; the
back of the empty chair before her. She took the time to study the
faces arrayed against her. From left to right sat Amabel, Mora,
Sybille, Menolly, and Brigit. They were all dressed in their finest
silks, even Sybille who had foregone her riding leathers for the
occasion and donned a dress of ivory silk with a dusky rose sash.
Cheobawn studied her, wondering where she hid her knives under the
soft folds of cloth.

“
Mothers,” Cheobawn said
with a bow of her head.

“
Sit, sit,” Amabel said
as she began pouring tea from the tea pot into six porcelain teacups.
“The water is not getting any hotter and the day is not getting any
longer.”

Cheobawn did the only thing
she knew to do. She sat. The chair was not meant for someone who had
not yet seen her ninth birthday. Her slippered feet dangled a
hand-span above the white tiled floor.

“
Go away,” Sybille said,
her tone peremptory bordering on rudeness, her eyes on Erin and
Soral, who had taken up positions on either side of Cheobawn’s
chair. Cheobawn did not have to turn around to know the two girls did
not move. Sybille sighed, not bothering to hide her annoyance. “We
all know each other here, Little Mother. Let us dispense with the
formalities and displays of power and cut to the meat of your agenda.
Please ask your guard to retreat to the benches and sit with the
boys. We have much to discuss.”

Cheobawn put her hand out
over the softly stuffed arm of the chair and made the sign with her
fingers that sent the two girls away and then listened to the sound
of their slippers on the tile floor as they obeyed her command. I am
alone and without witnesses, now, Cheobawn thought. She should have
been anxious but the old familiar serenity that preceded a sparring
battle settled in her heart, erasing all emotion.

Naked, she thought. So be
it.

“
You do them no favors,
dividing their loyalties as you do,” Mora said, her voice soft as
she watched the girls walk back to the line of boys who stood at the
ready. “Nor does it help the dome to seduce them away from our
rule.”

“
Yes, First Mother,”
Cheobawn said, though she dearly wanted to argue against this unfair
assessment. Were they not all children of the dome? Even at their
most outrageously rebellious, no child ever brought danger down upon
the village. Even Sigrid’s adoration was based in his belief that
she would keep them all safe. Amabel handed her a cup. The tea was an
herbal concoction meant to please the senses and soothe the mind.
Cheobawn resisted its pull. “It is my own cursed nature that
attracts them to my cause,” Cheobawn said. “They are under the
mistaken assumption that I need saving.”

“
Ah, to be young and
easily seduced by the idea of heroic tragedy,” Menolly said.
Cheobawn eyed the Mother as she took her cup from Amabel, wondering
is she was being ironic.

“
Do you need saving?”
Mora asked.

“
I think that perhaps I
do,” Cheobawn said softly, staring into the depth of her teacup.

“
Oh, dear,” said Brigit
with a long suffering sigh. “What have you done now?”

“
Nothing good, I’ll
wager,” Amabel said, handing Brigit her tea.

“
We are here at your
request, truedaughter,” Mora said taking her cup from Amabel’s
hands. “What do you want from the High Council?”

“
Why am I sitting in a
chair as an equal?” Cheobawn asked, looking up at her Mothers’
faces. It was not that she was avoiding the question. The seating
arrangement seemed pertinent to the subject at hand.

“
Is that what you think?”
Mora asked, her eyes studying her from under her heavy lashes.
“Perhaps it is merely a concession to your recent illness.”

“
Magic,” Brigit said
with a chuckle that set her ample breasts to jiggling, “works best
in circle.”

Cheobawn looked up at the
plump nestmother and smiled. Trust Brigit to see the best in things.

“
Who would have thought
you would come this far,” Sybille said, her face as enigmatic as
her statement.

“
I knew,” Menolly said
with utter confidence. “Was it not written in the smoke on her
Choosingday?”

“
Enough foolishness,”
said Amabel. “Why are you here, daughter?”

“
I wish to apologize for
the hurtful things I have said in the past,” Cheobawn said,
choosing her words carefully. “I do not want to move out of the
Coven’s house and leave hard feelings between us.”

“
You are a child,”
Brigit said, her eyes crinkling at the corners, her voice kind.
Brigit could always be counted on to be her advocate in the family
disputes. “It is a mark of our success as Mothers that you wish to
fly from the nest and test your wings. No one blames you for your
struggle.”

“
Did you need a Tribunal
to tell us this?” Sybille asked. “Why did you drag your honor
guard to the top of this tower? It was not to apologize for being a
brat, surely?”

Cheobawn flushed. Scooting
forward off the edge of her large chair, she set her tea cup down on
the table and rubbed her damp palms against her silk covered thighs.

“
No. You are right. I am
an envoy of sorts, I guess,” she said, looking around at the High
Council. “I am here from a sense of duty though I would rather not
be here at all. They have requested we parlay.”

“
Parlay? Parlay with
whom?” Menolly asked, confusion in her voice.

“
Spider sent me. With an
entreaty. Please cease the slaughter of the Spider’s children,”
Cheobawn said.

Sybille set her cup down
hard with the sound of porcelain cracking against porcelain. “This
is beyond bearing. Now they overreach themselves by seducing our
children.”

“
I cannot in good
conscience allow an aggressive predatorial species foothold in the
lands above the Escarpment,” Mora said, betraying nothing by her
demeanor as she ignored Sybille’s outburst.

Cheobawn bit her lower lip.
Negotiating as an equal with the Coven was new territory for her. Was
she supposed to rise and meet these emotional attacks? Emotions
seemed to get in the way of logic. She met her Truemother’s eyes,
choosing to take her cue from the First Mother. “Then give them to
me and let me dispose of them in my own way,” Cheobawn said.

Amabel was studying her
intently. “You want them to live? One of them came gods-cursed
close to killing you.”

“
I think your illness has
confused your loyalties,” Mora said, her tone as cold as ice.

“
I did not die and the
experience has made me wiser,” Cheobawn said. How was she going to
turn their will to her side? Desperation threatened. She swallowed
it, refusing it admittance into her heart. “But I am still a child
of the domes, first and foremost. Spider can cause us great harm if
it so chooses. It does not wish to harm when cooperation would yield
better results. It wishes to strike a deal.”

“
What is this
foolishness?” Sybille said. “When were you ever in contact with
the ruling hegemony of the Spider species?”

“
Ask Amabel.” Cheobawn
turned to meet the Maker’s eyes. “You surely have had time to
study the physiology of the dead spiders. The code inside their
living thread is not much different than the bhotta’s, despite the
differences between lizard and arthropod.”

“
Their brain has a
bloodstone at its core,” Amabel nodded. “I only had time to study
the three your foray killed so I must assume many things, but I
believe the stones are tuned to every other spider brain, creating a
linked family akin to the communication stones we harvest from the
bhotta.”

“
Touching one spider, you
touch all of Spider, across the infinite distances of space,”
Cheobawn said, nodding.

“
You were not ill or
sleeping, you were in communion with Spider kind?” Brigit asked, a
delighted smile on her face. “Clever girl. What was it like?”

“
Confusing. Educational.”
Cheobawn shook her head and took up her cup to sip the tea and ease
her dry throat. “They want to join forces with the domes.”

“
I cannot tell you how
truly horrific that idea seems to me,” Mora said. “What kind of
ally would Spider make?”

“
In the right place, at
the right time, they would become a weapon of incalculable worth,”
Cheobawn said. “We share the same enemies, after all.”

“
The tribes have no
enemies,” Mora said, her face an inscrutable mask, her voice
serene. “We are neutral. That neutrality and our isolation keep us
safe.”

“
Surely you must know what
hangs over our heads,” Cheobawn said with a wave of her hand. The
image of the night sky lighting up with the Spacer bombardment came
unbidden, choking off her breath for a moment. “You hold the threat
of the loss of bloodstones over the Lowlander’s heads to keep them
tame. You use the Lowlanders to parlay with the Spacers. Your demands
are met unquestioned but how long will that hold them off before they
decide to test your walls, feeling out your vulnerabilities? The men
who killed Old Father Bhotta were not defeated. They merely retreated
to consider their next move, having gained an incalculable wealth of
knowledge in one short meeting. The domes are like a fat beetle
dangling over a pond full of hungry fish. We are not defenseless but
they do not know that. They will rise to the bait, their greed
outweighing logic or common sense. Let us put a giant spider into the
equation and see which web entangles them first.”

“
I will not deny that the
loss of Spider-kind from the shallow seas was a grave blow to life on
this planet. But it has been two thousand years. The world has found
a new equilibrium,” Mora said. “How dare I disrupt that matrix of
life by reintroducing an apex predator?”

“
How dare you not?”
Cheobawn said, leaning forward to push her argument all the more.
“Old Father Bhotta longed for the return of Spider to our seas. I
felt it in his mind as he died. It is the planet’s will that has
brought me to this place. Bear Under the Mountain will hide what eggs
he can in hopes that a few survive to make it to the sea. Spider does
not want the Highreaches. Spider wants the sea. Spider wants hot
sandy beaches to hatch her young. The domes will never be in danger.
All Spider wants from us is help in getting what few eggs remain
safely down the long river to Orson’s Sea. Time has become a factor
in this request.”

“
You will forgive us if we
question the ideas of a chit of a girl who sees sentience in
inanimate things,” Amabel said, her lack of faith hidden behind a
lazy drawl and a smile that contained no mirth. Amabel did not like
Bear Under the Mountain. She thought him a delusion created by a
fragile mind.

“
Do not judge her magic so
harshly, I beg you sister,” Brigit said. “Is this not what we
intended all along, that she see beyond the limits of ordinary
perception?”

“
You might have warned me
about that,” Cheobawn said.

“
Who knew that so much was
going on inside your head?” Sybille asked with a small shrug. “You
betrayed nothing and you show an alarming propensity towards secret
keeping. I began to doubt your intelligence, taking your reserve for
stupidity.”

Sybille’s accusations were
so outrageous Cheobawn could do nothing but laugh. It may not have
been wise. The platinum haired Mother glared at her.

“
The treaty?” Cheobawn
asked, refusing to be diverted by Sybille’s incendiary words. “What
do you say to Spider?”

“
I would need to consult
with the other domes, convene a meeting of all the First Mothers. It
will take time,” Mora said.

“
You are High Mother to
all the domes. Use the power of your office to resolve this
emergency, now,” Cheobawn said. “Ask permission later.”

“
Emergency? We have months
before the spring comes and the remaining eggs thaw,” Amabel said,
throwing up her hands in protest.

“
No. My luck is the luck
of chaos. My presence in this affair has changed the time line. We
have only days. Hesitate and you risk the enmity of Spider. They
intend to reclaim the shallow sea with or without your help. Act now
and ensure that the domes do not become collateral damage in their
single minded quest to take back their rightful home.”

“
Collateral damage,”
Sybille said, a snarl on her lips and fire in her eyes. “What have
you done?”