Blood and Bone

The Council of the Werowan

       The silence was broken by Tora's voice.
"Mhera."
She flinched in shock. Hastily, Mhera returned her now headless spear to its holster and crawled backwards down the ladder. When she straightened, the chieftain stood before her, looking absurdly out of place in the small cottage.

"Tora," Mhera echoed. The chieftain was supposed to be her bone mother, not by blood like her birth mother Nita nor her foster mother Yasha, but by magic, to guide her as a witch. She'd promised as much when Nita was on her deathbed, but seemed to find her promises hard to follow. Dyani's bone mother Ahawi called her "daughter", yet Tora had never done such a thing. She's Wan, Dyani had told her when Mhera complained, as a child. She does as she likes. And seeing as that was so, Mhera had never seen the need to call her "mother", as Dyani did Ahawi. That didn't change the nature of their relationship, by the code. And, like Dyani, she was forbidden from crossing the threshold into Mhera's home. It was no wonder Elan was gaping openly, his jaw gone slack at the sight.

Wan Tora wasn't a tall woman, yet she seemed to cast a large shadow, and the tiger skin that hung from her shoulders, bright as flames, made her just as intimidating as Nita was said to have been. Mhera had heard many times from Yasha that when the two were both young, even the people of the stone cities told stories of them. The Bear and the Tiger.

"I'm told you and Dyani killed a bear," said Tora. She stood with her hands behind her back. Mhera mimicked her, hiding the scratches on her arms.

"Is that why you're here?"

"No. Dyani told me only now. She said you did....remarkably." Even as she complimented her, Tora's eyes were searching. Her gaze lingered on the spear that jutted out from behind Mhera's back, perhaps seeing that the head was bare, and understanding the implications. Her mouth tightened. Even in the shadowy room Mhera could see the scars on her cheekbones ripple. The lines were short and parallel, carved by a sure hand, and they stood out white on Tora's olive skin. For this and the cloak they called her the Tiger. "The Werowan, they wish to speak to you."

"What about?" Elan blurted, then recoiled beneath the chieftain's cool amber gaze.

"I'll come," Mhera said quickly. Tora turned, and Mhera followed her out of the house. Dyani stood in the doorway. She bowed her head as they passed.

"Dyani," said Tora. "Find three older witches and see that the bear is retrieved as a whole. A few talismans for strength should do it; no need to portion the carcass and ruin the hide. You have my congratulations for your kill." Dyani bowed again.

"Wan Tora," she said, "with respect, Mhera delivered the final blow. It's her kill, not mine."

"Thank you Dyani," Tora said by way of dismissal, and the girl bowed for a third time before trudging away.

It was a silent walk to the House of Council. Witches gathered around fires, whispering as they carved their talismans, but as Tora passed they hushed and stood, murmuring her name and bowing their heads. Most of the fishermen were already at the river, but a few sat around weaving or patching nets, and they stood as well. At one point, they passed Jacy and Nikiti, who were pushing carts of fish down to the storage houses. Mhera waved at them, and Tora gave a nod of recognition, but her brothers only gawked, forgetting to bow.

The House was wider across than five of Yasha's huts, but lower too, so that even Mhera had to stoop to cross the curtained threshold. Immediately her nose was crowded with heavy incense, sharp scents of pine and cedar. The four Werowan were already waiting. They knelt on the ground, their robes spread about them in pools of color, but stood as Tora entered. Her trousers and boiled leather armor made a marked contrast from their silk and embroidery. She strode between them, taking her place below the mounted tiger's head. Unlike her cloak its fur was white, the witch's color.