She pointed to the man with the bark-bound head, who was walking in front. 'Why doesn't he like me?'
The young man sighed. 'We fostered a Raven once. He helped the Soul-Eater make the demon bear.'
Renn bridled. 'That was my brother. The Soul-Eater tricked him, too.'
The man with the bark-bound head glared at her. 'So you say. The bear killed my mate. That's why I don't like Ravens.'
When he was out of earshot, the young hunter apologized. 'He still misses her.'
'Is that why he binds his head?' asked Renn.
'Yes, we place our dead in their chosen tree, then bind our heads in its bark, to remember.'
'But you don't wear headbands. So whose side are you on?'
He drew himself up. 'We take no sides. We never fight.'
Renn raised her eyebrows. 'What do the other clans think of that?'
'They scorn us, but they leave us alone.'
For now, she thought. She glanced at Torak, but he wasn't listening. He was drinking in every detail of his mother's clan, his face full of longing. Renn felt a twist of worry. She hoped these strange, distant people didn't let him down.
They walked for most of the day, and Renn soon lost her bearings. At last they reached a lake with a wooded islet in the middle. She was told it was Lake Blackwater, amid surprise that she didn't already know.
The Red Deer camp lay above the lake, and was so well concealed that she would have passed it if it hadn't been for the fire. A mound of juniper turned out to be the biggest shelter she'd ever seen: she counted seven doorways covered by reindeer-hide flaps stained green. A couple of dogs the first she'd encountered in the Deep Forest came to investigate, caught Wolf's scent on her, and fled. Children peered out, then ducked inside.
It was weirdly quiet, but for the first time in days, she felt safe. Nothing could get her here: neither tokoroths, nor Forest Horse hunters, nor the ash-haired menace. The fabled Magecraft of the Red Deer kept them at bay. And yet all she could see were a few tiny bark bundles tied to trees.
The young hunter led Torak to the lake to wash, and a woman beckoned Renn to a secluded bay. After some persuasion, she stripped and stood shivering while the woman used a cake of what appeared to be hard grey mud to scrub off her Deep Forest disguise. It was good to be herself again, but her skin stung. She asked what was in the grey cake.
The woman was surprised she didn't know. 'It's ash. We burn green bracken, then mix it with water and bake it.'
Ash, thought Renn. Always ash.
'Everyone in the Deep Forest uses it,' said the woman. 'It's like soapwort, but better.'
Another woman brought clothes: leggings and jerkin of roe deer buckskin lined with hare fur, neat elkhide boots, and a supple, hooded cape which Renn mistook for wovenbark, but was told was nettlestem. Everything fitted, but she was upset to learn that apart from her clan-creature feathers, her Raven clothes had been burnt.
'But ours are so much better,' protested the women.
Better clothes, better washing, better everything, Renn thought crossly. Maybe we should all give up and imitate them.
To boost her spirits, she pretended she had to go to the midden, and when she was alone, she rolled up one legging, took the beaver-tooth knife the Otter Clan had given her, and tied it to her calf with her spare bowstring. There. Just in case.
When she got back, Torak was sitting by the fire, also in new clothes, and scrubbed of his disguise. It was a relief to see him looking himself again; but they'd taken away his headband, and he kept touching his outcast tattoo.
He made room for her beside him while the rest of the clan settled round the fire. 'Stop scowling,' he whispered, 'they're helping us. And smell that food!'
She snorted. 'It's bound to be so much better than ours.' But she had to admit it was good. A huge wovenroot basket had been hung directly over the embers. It was full of a fragrant stew of chopped auroch meat, mushrooms and bracken tops, which was cooked when the basket was nearly burnt through. There were also delicious flatcakes of crushed hazelnuts and pine pollen, and a big pail of honey to ladle over everything, with steaming spruce-needle tea to wash it all down.
It was wonderful to roast by a fire again, but apart from a brief prayer to the Forest, the Red Deer ate in silence. Renn thought with a pang of the Ravens' noisy nightmeals, with everyone swapping hunting stories.
As soon as they'd finished, Durrain began to question Torak. Surprisingly, she showed no interest in why they had come; she only wanted to know what it was like to spirit walk in a tree.
Torak struggled to explain. 'I I was a yew. Then I was in tree after tree. Too many voices . . . I couldn't bear it.'
'Ah,' sighed the whole clan.
Even Durrain betrayed a flicker of emotion. 'What you heard was the Voice of the Forest. All the trees that are, or have ever been. It's too vast for men to bear. If you'd heard it for more than a heartbeat, your souls would have been torn apart. And yet how I envy you.'
Torak swallowed. 'My mother . . . You said you knew her. Tell me about her?'
Durrain dismissed that with a wave of her hand. 'She chose to leave. I can tell you nothing.'
'Nothing?' Torak was aghast.
Renn felt angry for him. 'Surely you tried to find her?'
Durrain gave her a chilly smile.
'But she and Torak's father were fighting the Soul-Eaters. They needed your help.'
'The Red Deer never fight,' said Durrain. Her eyes were a vivid beechnut brown, and they pierced Renn's souls. 'I see that you have some small skill at Magecraft. In the Deep Forest you're out of your depth. You are no Mage.'
She was right. It was Renn's turn to be crushed.
Beside her, Torak stirred. 'You don't know anything about Renn. Last summer, her visions warned us of the flood. She saved whole clans.'
'Indeed,' said Durrain.
Torak lifted his chin. 'We're wasting time. You said our search is at an end. Do you know where the Oak Mage is?'
'There is no Oak Mage in the Deep Forest,' declared Durrain.
'You're wrong,' said Torak. 'We tracked him here. The trail leads south.'
'If there was a Soul-Eater in the Deep Forest, the Red Deer would know it.'
'You didn't before,' said Renn. 'The crippled wanderer lived with you for a whole summer and you never knew who he was.'
That drew angry murmurs from the others, and Durrain's lips thinned. 'Your search is at an end. Tonight we will pray. Tomorrow we'll take you back to the Open Forest.'
'No!' cried Renn and Torak together.
'You don't understand what you've blundered into,' said Durrain. 'The Deep Forest is at war!'
'But you never fight,' retorted Renn, 'so why should that affect you?'
'It affects us all,' said Durrain. 'It keeps the World Spirit away, which blights the Forest. Surely even in the Open Forest you know of this?'
'No, we're much too ignorant,' said Renn, 'why don't you enlighten us?'
Durrain flashed her an angry look. 'In winter the World Spirit haunts the fells as a willow-haired woman. In summer it walks the deep woods as a tall man with the antlers of a stag. This much you know?'
Renn made a huge effort to hold onto her temper.
'In spring, at the moment of turning, the Great Oak in the sacred grove bursts into leaf. Not this spring. The buds have been eaten by demons. The Spirit hasn't come.' She paused. 'We've tried everything.'
'The red branches,' said Torak.
Durrain nodded. 'Each clan beseeches the Spirit in its own way. The Aurochs paint branches. Lynx and Bat make sacrifices. The Forest Horses also paint branches, and their new Mage fasts alone in the sacred grove, seeking a sign.'
Renn felt Torak stiffen. 'The Forest Horse Mage,' he said. 'Is that a man or a woman?'
'A man,' said Durrain.
Renn's heart began to race. 'What does he look like?'
'No-one sees his face. At all times, he wears a mask of wood, to be one with the trees.'
'Where is the sacred grove?' said Torak.
'In the valley of the horses,' said Durrain.
'Where's that?' said Renn.
'We never tell outsiders.'
'In whose range is it?' said Torak, 'Auroch or Forest Horse?'
'The sacred grove is the heart of the Forest,' said Durrain. 'It belongs to no-one. All may go there, though only in greatest need. At least, this was the way until the Forest Horse Mage forbade it.'
Renn took a deep breath. 'What if we told you that the Forest Horse Mage is Thiazzi in disguise?'
Durrain gave her a pitying stare, while the others smiled in disbelief.
'But if we're right,' said Torak, 'you'd help us? You'd help me, your bone kin, fight the Soul-Eater?'
'The Red Deer never fight,' repeated Durrain.
'But you can't do nothing!' cried Renn.
'We pray for the fighting to stop,' retorted Durrain. 'We pray for the World Spirit to come.'
'That's your answer?' said Torak. 'To pray?'
Durrain rose to her feet. 'I'll show you why we do not fight,' she said, spitting out her words like pebbles. Seizing Torak and Renn by the wrist, she dragged them out of camp.
They headed uphill, and soon reached a small glade where the evening sun glowed in drifts of yellow hawkbit. There was no birdsong. The glade was eerily quiet. In the middle, Renn saw a tangle of bleached bones: the skeletons of two red deer stags.
It was horribly easy to guess what had happened. Last autumn's rut, and the stags had fought over females. Renn saw the great heads clashing, the antlers locking. The struggle to untangle themselves. They couldn't. They were trapped.
'This is the sign the Spirit sent,' said Durrain. 'See what befell our clan-creatures! They fought. They couldn't get free. They starved to death. This is what happens when you fight. This is why the Red Deer will have none of it!'
FIFTEEN.
As Durrain led them back to camp, Torak hung back, and Renn fell into step beside him. 'Are you all right?' she said.
'Fine.'
She touched his hand. 'I know you hoped for more from them.'
He forced a shrug. Because she was Renn, he didn't mind her feeling sorry for him, but to stop her saying anything else he said, 'I think they're wrong about not fighting.'
'Me too.'
'How can you not fight Soul-Eaters? If nobody fought them they'd take over the Forest.'
'Although,' she said, mimicking Durrain's lofty tones, 'who are we to question the ways of the Red Deer?'
He grinned. 'Especially not you, you ignorant Raven.'
She jabbed her elbow in his ribs and he yelped, earning a disapproving glance from Durrain.
As they neared the camp, Torak said in a low voice, 'But they have told us something important.'
Renn nodded. 'We need to find the sacred grove.'
Dusk was falling, and most of the Red Deer had gone into the shelter. Durrain was waiting for them. 'We pray till dawn,' she announced. 'You will pray with us.'
Renn tried to look obedient, and Torak bowed, although he had no intention of praying. He wasn't going to be distracted any longer.
A woman emerged from an adjoining trail, spotted Durrain, and dithered, as if wondering where to hide.
Durrain heaved a sigh. 'Where have you been?'
'I I took an offering to the horses,' stammered the woman.
'You should have told me first.'