“Better they were all dead anyway,” someone says.

I can’t see who’s spoken, but Moon Song turns in the direction of a group of sea otters. The animosity between the otter clan and fairy selchie has never been satisfactorily resolved—at least, not so far as the otter are concerned. They have such friendly, round faces that it’s always a surprise to me how dark and deep their anger can run.

But in that way, we’re no different from humans. We have our differences—with other clans, with fairy and humans, and even with those who are members of our own tribes. Raven knows, I’ve carried my own for long enough.

“And that is not today’s business, either,” she tells the otters.

“And,” Raven puts in, “we have treaties in place with fairy, agreed upon by the chiefs of all gathered here, as well as by those who aren’t with us.”

It’s the first time he’s spoken, but his silence hasn’t surprised me. I’ve come to see that Raven downplays the history that could make him an automatic leader of all the clans. It would be hard to argue with the one who brought the whole world into being, back in the long ago. I wonder if he ever plays that hand, or if he’s always content to wander among us, his part in our origin mostly forgotten.

Moon Song nods in agreement with him. She’s never been afraid to take on the role of leader if she feels it’s required.

“Treaties that Odawa deliberately undermined,” she says. “He wasn’t simply taking revenge on Grey. He was trying to start another war with fairy. And tell me this, Waninin, and you, Yanei Ohka. Is a feud between two cousins reason enough to cause the deaths of the hundreds of brothers and sisters we would lose in another war with fairy?”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Waninin says.

The sea otter that Moon Song puts the same question to, answers by changing the subject.

“I, for one,” Yanei Ohka says, “would like to hear the specific charges being brought against Odawa. And I would expect some proof beyond the word of a few corbae.”

A long, shocked silence follows.

Here’s the thing about my people—one of the big differences between us and humans: our word is sacrosanct. We lie and cheat right up there with the best of them. But once we give our word, once we make a promise, we keep it to the letter. That’s why Odawa’s still here, awaiting judgment when you’d think he’d have fled as soon as Raven’s people took him in their custody. He gave them his word that he would abide the word of the council, and here he is.

Our word is our honour. Without it, we’d have only chaos.