The one Juro had named as a leader shifted his grip on his spear, his brows drawing down. Tyrel readied his throwing knife. The moons didn't want anyone dead, he knew, but things would get complicated if there was an all-out attack.

Sanur's light brightened and gathered in two spots side by side, then coalesced into Madoc and Mirren—human-form and looking understandably confused, dressed but of course unarmed.

That sent all four humans and most of the reborn back a couple of steps in apprehension. It wasn't, after all, something they ever could have seen.

The usual disorientation didn't last long: there wasn't much ambiguous about the situation.

Juro held out the sica hilt first to Madoc, Madoc's belt with the clawed glove in his other hand, and Madoc accepted them with a nod of thanks. Tyrel edged around closer so he could give Mirren her belt with her sword and matching knife.

“Might get messy,” Tyrel murmured. “Hold for the moment, but stay ready. Juro?” He handed over his own dagger from his back, as a replacement weapon, if a poor one.

Madoc left the clawed glove on his belt, but kept the sica out; Mirren drew her sword, but kept the point down. Without a word, they both fit themselves into place, Mirren nudging Lysandra back towards her sister. Lysandra didn't resist.

Yet again the moons had broken, or at least bent, the rules... though yet again, in a way that might discourage a fight. The stronger they looked, the less appeal a battle would hold.

Which meant... one amarog and nine others in human form with widely varied combat abilities and widely varied weapons, against a dozen or so who weren't all moonblood but were armed with spears giving them a longer reach.

For reasons that were probably different from those of the moons, this was not a fight Tyrel particularly wanted to see happen. At least, not without getting Lysandra and Narcissa safely out of range, and possibly Neoma and Demetrios as well since he had no idea what they might be capable of. Getting the humans off the field would be good, too, for their sake. Juro seemed able to handle himself well, but he was under-armed. Tyrel sighed to himself.

“Look around you,” Tyrel said tiredly. “You do outnumber us, but not by much. We'll be healed as soon as we're hurt, but you won't. We can use both forms at will, but you can't. It's very likely that the moons will not allow any of us to die, except those poor humans over there because they can't help them, but they don't want us to fight at all. They're trying to make sure we don't, can't you see that? Can we please just end this some other way?”

“How?” asked a tall, lean-muscled woman with extremely dark brown skin and close-clipped black hair, sceptically. Sanur's green-gold light haloed her faintly. “What are you proposing? That we stand back and let you walk out of here? With, I suppose, Juro and Demetrios?”

“We're certainly not going to leave them here to suffer whatever punishment you lot would come up with. The same goes for any of you. Leave with us if you like. You don't have to stay, with us or here, unless you want to.”

“And you'll all just go away? Leave Ilek?”

“Well, no,” Tyrel said reluctantly, “we can't do that.” He'd have preferred to get to that part once they were on more neutral ground and the non-combatants were no longer involved.

“What does that mean?”

“We've made promises to Ejiro and his current Bride and her predecessors that we would help any way we can. So that, y'know, the local earthborn doesn't bloody die from the completely insane atrocities you've committed around here. This means that unless we can come to an understanding, then once this standoff is over, we're going to have to resume looking for ways to stop you. The easiest solution would be to kill all of you, or as near as the moons will allow, right here and now. If you think I'm boasting, you have never seen an adult amarog whose pack is threatened and who has a massive grudge a hundred and fifty years old.” Kieran rumbled agreement. “Against my better judgement, we're going to try to avoid that because our mothers and our healer and, apparently, Neoma all say we should, even though that might mean taking longer to help Ejiro. If you're stupid enough to push this into a fight, then the consequences are your own fault.”

“You arrogant little bastard,” Wira spat. “You think you can stand there and tell us that the moons love you better than those of us who have devoted our lives to them, and that you somehow know better than we do what they want...”

“They don't love us more,” Mirren said in exasperation. “Mothers typically reward good behaviour, but that doesn't mean they don't love their children who behave badly.”

“Look up sometime,” Lysandra said. “Look at your mother, and just listen.”

“They have more important things to do! We aren't worthy of that!”

“No, that is one of the things they created us to do, and it's how they communicate with us. What mother considers her child unworthy of talking to her?” Lysandra turned her own gaze to blue-white Meyar and extended both hands palm-up. “If I should no longer talk to you and listen for you and rejoice in your love and dance in your light, show me that I've been wrong and disrespectful and I'll do so no more.”

Pale light brightened around her, then faded back to its previous level.

Her mottled dark trousers and top had become a version of her Enodian dancer costume: an elaborate top that still left her arms free, loose multi-layered trousers with an overlapped slit up each leg, all in near-white with indigo-blue edging and indigo serpents. She even had her dancer jewellery, though in silver, not gold, with blue stones that glittered in the light.

She glanced down at herself, then up again, smiling. “Thank you.”

Wira hefted the spear in his hand and drew back his arm to throw, all in one swift motion.

Lysandra's reflexes were very good: she dropped flat to the ground, and the spear missed her, thudding home in the mud brick wall a few feet past her. Demetrios offered a hand to help her back to her feet, which she accepted with a smile of thanks.

Juro jerked the spear out of the brick, tested the balance of it in one hand, then tucked Tyrel's knife into his kilt and shifted his grip to two-handed. Tyrel had scant personal experience using a spear, but he'd fought beside and against those who did, and that stance looked confident and competent both. There was definitely more to this poet than what showed on the surface.

STOP!

Tyrel wasn't sure whether he heard it or felt it or just knew it, but he had the sense that his entire body was vibrating with that one word. It was Talir, he was sure, but not Talir alone. It was... loud, but that wasn't quite the right word even though it drowned out everything else.

THIS ENDS NOW! NO ONE DIES! THERE HAS BEEN TOO MUCH DEATH, TOO MUCH BLOOD, TOO MUCH GRIEF!

We did not create our children for this!

Lirit wanted her children to have a strong connection with the wilderness and with animal life. Sahen wanted her children to lead and inspire and to build bridges between individuals and cultures alike. Sanur wanted her children to be protectors and defenders and guardians. Meyar wanted her children to explore the wonders great and small of the world and share that with others. Talir wanted simply for her children to help humans where possible.

None of those things were meant to be at the expense of your own lives and independence and joy. None of you were to have power over any other. One small group lost their way. We did not know how badly or to what extremes they would take it until it was too late. Neoma was not the first to try to escape. She was not the last. But she was the most successful. She and her bloodline have been more true to your roots than any other in a long time.

All you have ever had to do is look up and ask us and listen, and we would have done everything in our power. We could do little because each of you, save Neoma's bloodline, gave your consent to those who hurt you. While you have chosen to remain, we have had to respect that. Consent is a very old and very powerful law even among gods. Only when you made the decision to completely reject the false path were we free to do more. Those who have done so have been few and desperate and we have been unable to provide enough help.

We could, perhaps, have tried to find a loophole, some rationalization. But we have tolerated too much for too long, mothers who indulged the unspeakable behaviour of their beloved children in the hope that they would outgrow it in time. You have not done so, and we see no other choice. It is not good for you or for the rest of the world for this to continue.

We do not want to ever see another of those abominable initiation rituals. We do not want to ever see another penance inflicted. We do not want to ever see our children bullying each other into monstrous acts. We repeat, we have given none of you power over any other, and you are all free.

We will not list the full accounting of crimes that have been committed. They have been crimes against humans, over and over, destroying communities and lives. They have been crimes against gods, culminating in an appalling attack on an earthborn. They have been crimes against other spirit-creatures, slaughtering and abusing them. They have been crimes against Neoma and her bloodline, including the intent to murder them all. We must add that you inflicted pain on Lirit's daughter Kaveri in the name of punishment for her transgression of those false laws. While we could not protect those who gave consent, Kaveri has never done so in any way or to any action on your part or to those laws. And they have been crimes against your own kind, lies and violence and betrayal and a thousand other things.

This ends.

This virus will spread no further and infect no more victims. Your blood is sterile. Sharing it with another, by accident or design or ritual, will not result in a change. We will choose no further children save from Neoma's bloodline.

And because you need time to think about what we have said, you will all, save Neoma's bloodline, spend the next year in your animal forms and unable to change. We will not abandon you. You will still heal, and you will still have greater endurance in our light. For those of you in Enodia, Aithre has already informed her Oracles, who will explain. At the end of the year you will once again have both forms. We hope that you will learn something from this and behave more responsibly.

No matter what lies you have been told, no matter what you have done, we are your mothers. We love you, we take this action only reluctantly, and if you need us, we will be with you.

The blindingly bright-loud voices faded.

Tyrel shook his head hard, and looked around.

Neoma and Kieran were still in their animal forms.

Crouched sullenly across from Neoma was a wolverine; the injured woman on the ground was a great owl, testing her newly-healed wings cautiously. Tyrel saw a tawny-maned lion, a grey wolf, an enormous furless greyish thing with a long snakelike nose and big flapping ears, a peculiar smallish reddish thing that looked like a long-tailed pinecone with claws, a very thin cat with a spotted hide, several kinds of thin-legged hooved creatures that were probably akin to deer or goats, and a huge bird with a long bare neck and long legs. The four humans clutched at their spears as they looked around them, bewildered and suspicious.

Juro and Demetrios remained in human form.

“Guard the front gate,” Demetrios told the humans. “Your lord, among others, has been found wanting by the moons. Everything in Ilek has just changed. For the moment, let these,” he gestured, “come or go as they wish, but let no one else in. Expect to do so through the day as well, so work out shifts.”

Not such a surprise that they obeyed: he was familiar and he'd given them directions when they had no idea what to do.

“And you lot,” Lysandra added to the various animals, “go find something to do with yourselves that doesn't hurt anyone. Start thinking about what you're going to do for the next year. We'll help you get settled if we can, but we aren't staying in Ilek indefinitely, so think quickly.”

“You might want to consider,” Narcissa said, “that there are a lot of hungry people outside those gates. Hunger makes anything look edible.”

Tyrel saw the tall bird shudder and draw in on itself, and one of the deer-like creatures stamped a hoof uneasily.

The owl launched herself into the air; the other reborn, uncertain and confused, began to drift apart into smaller clusters. Kieran kept a wary and mistrustful eye on them.

The wolverine's growl, an incredibly low and chilling sound, was the only warning before he charged directly at Neoma.

She sidestepped, still facing him.

Tyrel saw Kieran spin around at the first hint of sound, and in the eyeblink in which Gernot moved, so did he.

Powerful amarog jaws closed on the wolverine's spine and jerked it up off its feet altogether, even though it was a third of his size and low to the ground.

Maybe mindful of what the moons had said about deaths, he neither shook it nor crunched down, though.

Instead, ignoring the savage snarling and hissing and the violent struggling alike, he dragged Gernot into the ruins of the outbuilding.

Tyrel followed, certain that he knew what Kieran intended.

Kieran planted all four feet and, with a convulsive snap of his head, tossed Gernot directly into one of the cages. Tyrel slammed the gate shut and heard the lock click into place.

That cage had held a berserk amarog. Tyrel doubted that a furious wolverine was going to have much luck. Kieran yawned and looked up at Tyrel, tail waving now; Tyrel laughed and laid a hand on his head, keeping pace back outside.

Of course, only two people knew the way to open the cages. One of them was in the cage, the other outside, and neither currently had hands.

Oh well. If he has to spend some time in it until someone comes up with a way to force it, he'll survive. That Lirit would mourn is the only reason he's alive anyway.

Juro, Tyrel noted, was facing the bright-maned lion and the spotted cat directly, possibly warning them off from getting involved, though the others all seemed to have given up. Madoc, even as Tyrel watched, joined him. Tyrel strode quickly over to place himself on Juro's other side, and Mirren stepped into place at Madoc's side.

Madoc hissed, cat-fashion.

The spotted cat—Tyrel made a mental note to ask someone what it was; it looked fast—slunk away. Left alone against four, the lion followed.

“Kieran?” the russet-haired woman, no longer a wolf, said softly, like she didn't quite believe it.

One word, Tyrel thought affectionately, and Kieran was an overgrown puppy, bounding over to her with tail thrashing wildly from side to side, ears forward, whining in excitement.

Yellow light rippled, and Kieran wrapped both arms around her in a fierce hug. “Still here. Thanks to Valeyan and Hickory and Talir. I've been looking for you for a long time.”

Tentative only for a heartbeat, Neoma hugged him back, just as hard. He was much taller than her, the top of her head not reaching his shoulder, but neither seemed to care. “I am so far behind, I may never catch up,” she said ruefully.

“Those others aren't a threat anymore, so there's no hurry.”

Kaveri wandered casually over to Tyrel and his companions. “I don't suppose you know where Iole and Phaidra and Ander were taken?” she asked Juro.

“No.” Juro raised his voice. “Demetrios? The donkeys and mule?”

Demetrios carefully avoided mother and son on his way over to them, and their princesses came with him. “One of the other houses. They should be safe for the moment. They were going to be put to work drawing goods out of Ilek.”

“'Rel, what the hell was that all about, anyway?” Madoc demanded. “You're supposed to be watching my back, not tossing a knife into it!”

“Obsidian knife,” Kaveri said.

“What? Oh...” He heaved a sigh. “All right, I can forgive you for that, but any other reason and I'd be thumping you black and blue.”

“I know,” Tyrel said. “I wouldn't have done it if I'd seen a better option at the time.”

“Obsidian being relevant how?” Demetrios asked.

“Valeyan,” Kieran said, not letting go of Neoma, “is an earthborn very far from here. He gave Neoma's bloodline a gift. If we die of anything born of earth, or for that matter of moonlight, we go to our mothers, but we return intact on the full moon. A good thing, or I would not be here, given an obsession with helping people escape from cages, literal and otherwise.”

“You got us out of one,” Juro said. “Obsidian isn't earth?”

“No, or not enough so. Die by it and you will stay dead. Ask another time how I know. Talir is near the horizon. Many will be disappointed if the healer is not there when the sun rises.”

“I know,” Narcissa said. “Although it feels like dusk and pausing for the night was days ago, not a single night. It will be a long and tiring day but nothing I can't do.”

“You may not have until sunrise,” Demetrios said. “We do not know how far the effects of the quake reach.”

“Oh dear. You're right. There are going to be any number of injuries. Kieran, I think today we're going to need your healing skills more than your ability to intimidate.”

Kieran nodded. “I doubt anyone will notice or care that you have extra hands and fewer animals.” He looked down at Neoma, finally loosening his embrace, though Tyrel thought it was with reluctance. “This town has suffered flood, famine, poverty, a plague of mice, and a lack of healers. With an earthquake as well...”

“I understand,” she said, and smiled. “And I'll do what I can.”

“I suspect there will be quite enough to keep us all busy and then some,” Kaveri said. “Juro, Demetrios, are you coming with us?”

Juro hesitated, trading glances with Demetrios. “I think we can do more elsewhere. We'll be recognized and there should be no reason to question us.”

“Which is likely to be important in reducing the confusion and fear,” Demetrios said. “And we'll see what we can do about helping those outside the great houses.”

“Don't worry,” Juro added. “We aren't going to go far. I still don't have even close to all those answers I want, and I know where you are. We'll find the donkeys and Ander and get them back to you safely.” Together, they headed for the gate.

“Thank you,” Narcissa said.

Demetrios glanced back, and turned long enough to bow to her. “Gracious lady, your family has given us the greatest gift possible. Thanks should only be from us to you.” He fell back into step beside Juro.

“Enodians,” Madoc muttered.

“I might be more useful as pest control and distraction,” Mirren said. “But let's get back and see how bad it is. I wonder whether there's anything left of the campsite.”

“It's largely intact,” Lysandra said. “Onyeka and the rest of Ejiro's past Brides and the present one, along with a horde of spirit creatures, are guarding our wagon and camp and are probably waiting to hear. Unless the spirit-creatures have told them already. They helped me speak to Ejiro so I could ask him for that earthquake.”

“So we missed an earthquake,” Madoc said. “And came back the same night we died. And Neoma's back? What else did we miss?”

“Probably a lot. I'm still not sure why we seem to have two new family members. But I suppose we can all survive waiting to find out the whole story.”