Q'Daer had served the sept faithfully for nearly six years now, ever since coming into his power. L'Norr had done the same for nearly as long. They followed custom; they obeyed the a'laq's commands. Fairness demanded that someday one of them would assume leadership of the sept. Yes, they were rivals, despite their friendship, which was as old as memory. But Q'Daer never questioned L'Norr's worth. If eventually E'Menua chose the younger man to succeed him, so be it; Q'Daer would accept that. He'd do all in his power to win the a'laq's favor, but at least in L'Norr, the sept would have a Fal'Borna leader, a man who understood his own people.

This Forelander, though, was a different matter. Q'Daer had been, quite literally, the first to welcome Grinsa into their community. He could see the value of adding another Weaver to the Sept, of strengthening themselves against their foes and enhancing their prestige among the other Fal'Borna on the plain. But what good to them was a man who remained so wedded to the ways of the Forelands? What benefit could come to the sept if Grinsa refused to be joined properly to another Weaver? How could E'Menua even consider allowing such a man to become one of his trusted advisors?

And he was considering it. Q'Daer could tell as much. When was the last time the a'laq praised him the way he did Grinsa? When had E'Menua ever tolerated any display of disrespect from either Q'Daer or L'Norr? Yet E'Menua allowed this Forelander, who had been living among them for but a matter of days, to say whatever he pleased.

"We should take H'Shem and his horsemen," L'Norr said, as they walked among the z'kals toward the paddock.

Q'Daer nodded absently. "Fine," he said.

"You disagree?"

He looked at the man, pulling himself out of his musings. Or trying. "Not at all. H'Shem is a good choice."

Q'Daer meant it. Like most a'laqs, E'Menua had chosen his best riders and made them a'jei, leaders of smaller hunting parties. Each party consisted of eight men, plus the a'jei. Some septs might have as many as three dozen such leaders. E'Menua had twenty-six. H'Shem was the most competent of them, and the one Q'Daer liked best. It bothered him just a bit that L'Norr had thought of H'Shem for this undertaking. An a'laq might choose his successor based in part on the recommendations of his a'jei, and for some time now Q'Daer had assumed that H'Shem would support him. But if L'Norr and the a'jei were building a rapport…

"He's a very good choice," Q'Daer said, unable to keep a hint of bitterness from creeping into his voice.

"What's the matter with you?" L'Norr asked.

"Nothing."

L'Norr just kept watching him, waiting. They were as close as brothers; their fathers had been as well. That both of them turned out to be Weavers had seemed at first too good to be true. And perhaps it was. They spent much of their time together, but they were constantly vying against each other for E'Menua's esteem. How could they help it? Both of them wanted to be a'laq. Both of them wanted to be the first to be joined to another Weaver, for how many opportunities would there be for either of them to marry? As the older of the two, Q'Daer had the natural advantage. Simply by dint of Fal'Borna custom, he was to be given command of most hunting parties and raids against rival septs.

Even this tradition, though, had proved to be a blade that cut both ways. He'd had his share of successful hunts, and one glorious skirmish against a small J'Balanar raiding party, during which he himself had killed the leader of the invaders. But there had also been the one disaster, and he knew for certain that E'Menua hadn't forgotten.

It happened less than a year ago, early in the Planting. Too early, the a'laq had warned. But the Snows had been harsh and their stores of food were depleted. Q'Daer pushed hard and finally persuaded E'Menua to let him take a small hunting party-just one a'jei and his men-south to find a herd of rilda. Their hunt was successful: sixteen bucks killed. Before they could return to the sept, however, a storm swept down over the plain, bringing fierce winds and blinding snow. The riders searched for a sheltered spot where they might wait out the squall. Small clusters of trees grew along the banks of the streams flowing out of the Fallow Downs, and they tried to find these. But Q'Daer lost his bearings in the blizzard and led the riders away from the hills rather than toward them. By the time he realized his mistake, night had fallen and the riders had little choice but to lay low in their rilda skins and blankets, exposed on the plain. Five men died that night, including G'Fen, the hunting party's a'jei.

It was no one's fault, of course. Morna's moods, it is said among the people of the plains, are as fickle as her winds. Only the goddess herself could have foreseen that storm. E'Menua told him as much upon the survivors' return to the sept. But it seemed to Q'Daer that the a'laq held him responsible nevertheless. The hunt had been his idea in the first place. More to the point, it was the way of the Fal'Borna. No matter the circumstances, a leader-be he an a'laq, a Weaver, or an a'jei-was always judged according to the fates of those under his command. Q'Daer had gloried in his previous triumphs; it was only just that this failure should bring him shame.

It was no coincidence that L'Norr now had a concubine and he did not. The girl's father, S'Qel, had offered her to the younger Weaver after the storm and Q'Daer's failure on the plain. Had she come into her power only a few turns before, she might well have been his. It shouldn't have mattered to him-she was a warm body; nothing more-but still it rankled. It made him wonder if E'Menua might make a similar choice when U'Vara, the a'laq's daughter, came into her power. She was the one Q'Daer wanted, the one who all in the sept believed would be their next Weaver. Though young still, she showed all the signs. Already she had given indications of possessing fire magic, mists and winds, shaping, and language of beasts. So many magics, and she'd yet to complete her fourth four. Surely she would be a Weaver, and a beautiful one at that.

As the older unjoined Weaver, Q'Daer should have been the clear choice to be her husband. Now, though, after the storm, with L'Norr already having a concubine, nothing was certain. Grinsa's arrival in the sept only served to complicate matters. Had he been properly joined to a Weaver, Q'Daer might not have minded so much. But in just these past few days Q'Daer had begun to hear talk of U'Vara being a perfect match for the Forelander, one whose beauty and youth might lure the man away from his concubine and convince him to make E'Menua's sept his home.

Neither Q'Daer nor L'Norr could allow that to happen, though his friend seemed oblivious of the danger. E'Menua's other two children were both boys. In all likelihood, they would be Weavers, too, and when they came of age, they would need to find wives. How many female Weavers could one expect to find in a single sept? How many fathers would choose Q'Daer or L'Norr for their daughters rather than the son of the a'laq? It seemed likely that U'Vara would be the last Weaver from this sept to whom either Q'Daer or L'Norr could hope to be joined. Sometimes Weavers from separate septs were married as a way of forging new alliances or strengthening old ones, but this was rare.

U'Vara had to be his. He wanted sons; sons who would someday be Weavers. He wanted to rule the Sept. And by Fal'Borna custom, only a joined Weaver could be named a'laq.

"Who else, then?" L'Norr asked him, as they continued to make their way through the sept. "Aside from H'Shem?"

"I don't know," he muttered.

This time L'Norr halted, grabbing Q'Daer's arm to make him stop, too. They were about the same height, and they stood watching each other, their eyes locked. "Something's bothering you," L'Norr said. "I want to know what it is."