Glasswrights' Progress by Mindy L Klasky Read Free Book Online

he swallowed audibly. The tendons in his neck stood out like blades of grass. The sunny fragrance of the fruit hung in the clearing, like a ribbon in a flirting girl’s hair. “They’re ripe,” Shea crooned. “Full of juice. Sweet.”
    The youth lunged for the baskets. As he thrust his hands amid the berries, Shea’s three lionchildren finally appeared from the edge of the woods, sticks and stones at the ready. “Drop our berries!” Hartley cried.
    The soldier boy complied, but not before he’d been hit hard across the shoulders and the back of his legs. Hartley turned to Shea, his face blazing red with more than the afternoon sun. “My lions and I.… We saw a boar, at the edge of the woods. We were going to bring back fresh meat.” The lion swallowed hard and refused to meet Shea’s eyes. “It got away.”
    Before Shea could decide whether to offer comfort or remonstration, Hartley whirled on his prisoner. “What’s your name, boy?”
    Berry juice ran over the enemy boy’s fingers like blood. Hartley had to raise his stick, brandishing it like a bludgeon, before the youth spat, “Crestman.” Before he could say more, Hartley snarled a command, and the lions secured him with their own ragged clothes, gagging him with harsh bonds.
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    That night, Shea waited until the sunchildren were asleep, until Serena was walking her restless swanwalk on the roof, before she summoned together the lions and the owls. Crestman sat across the room, lashed to a chair. He had managed to fall into a fitful sleep, obviously exhausted by his days of travel. Shea cast a glance toward the boy, and then she addressed her children. “The king is getting closer. Crestman must be a deserter, but King Sin Hazar’s recruiters are probably not far behind. We ... we have to decide what to do.” She swallowed hard. Decision wasn’t her job. She was a sun, after all.
    â€œCan there be any real question?” Hartley demanded. “If you give that Crestman to my lions, we’ll make sure his trackers never find us. We can leave his body far from here. The king’s men won’t be able to ask us difficult questions about one of their deserters, even if they do find us.”
    â€œHe’s still a child,” argued Torino, the eldest owl. “You know the teachings of the Thousand Gods. We cannot kill a child.”
    â€œWho says he’s a child?” Hartley replied. “He’s old enough to travel across the countryside on his own. He’s old enough to join King Sin Hazar.”
    â€œHe can’t be any older than you are!” Torino retorted.
    â€œAnd perhaps I’m not a child,” Hartley countered. “Besides, that Crestman was ready to kill Shea.” Hartley raised a hand to the tattoo on his cheek, using his blunt fingertip to emphasize his lion-power.
    â€œHe didn’t kill her, though.” Torino did not back down.
    â€œYou owls are supposed to be the thinkers!” Hartley rounded on the owlchildren, and Shea heard the boy’s anger at himself, anger that his lions had let Crestman creep into the clearing. Hartley and his lions had failed the skychildren, and the breach could have been deadly for them all. “You’re supposed to be the ones who find answers!”
    One of the youngest owls climbed to her feet. “We’re owls, Lion. Don’t you doubt that.” She turned to her fellows. “Come on, then. Like Father Nariom taught us, down in the village. Premise: We may kill to protect our safety.”
    â€œCounter-premise,” another owl responded immediately. “No child may be killed.”
    â€œPremise,” hooted a third child. “Children who fight for King Sin Hazar threaten our safety.”
    â€œYou don’t know that he was fighting for the king!” squawked one of the youngest owls. “Shea says he was deserting!” The debate