Starborn

by Katie MacAlister

  “I didn’t, but Avas located one.” He smiled again, his hands on my arms as he gave me a little squeeze. “He was passing through Ilam, and he sensed the presence of one of the stones close by.”

  “Ilam?” I asked, confused. “But that’s in the High Lands of Poronne, isn’t it?”

  “Aye.” His eyes positively danced with mirth. He waited, clearly expecting me to piece together the clue he’d just given me with what I knew about Exodius.

  “Why would Exodius send a stone to the lands held by the Tribe of Jalas…Kiriah’s nostrils, tell me he didn’t give it to the ice queen?”

  His smile turned into a cheeky grin. “One of these days, you’re going to have to get your jealousy of Lady Idril under control. And no, Exodius didn’t give it to her.”

  “I’m not in any way jealous of Idril. Her life choices are not mine. The fact that she threw over Deo to marry his father is neither here nor there. If I had wanted Deo, I could have had him.”

  “Yes, I’m perfectly aware that your boyfriend claimed kisses from you before I did,” Hallow said with a pointed look that was softened by the twitch of his lips.

  “He was never my boyfriend,” I said automatically, then clicked my tongue in disgust. “Exodius must have given the stone to Idril’s murderous father.”

  “I’m not going to comment about the methods a man must use to control as many fractious tribesmen as Jalas controls,” he said evenly, taking my hand and pulling me after him down to our tower room. “But you are correct—Avas felt a stone’s presence in Jalas’s keep.”

  “That means we just have one to find if Avas retrieved Jalas’s stone.”

  Silence met my statement.

  “Avas did get the stone, didn’t he?” I asked, watching when Hallow, having released my hand, pulled out two stiffened leather packs from under our bed, hauling them around the screen that gave us a modicum of privacy.

  “No.” The humor in his eyes faded a little when he went to the shelves that held baskets containing our clothing. “Jalas would not admit he had the stone, and when Avas tried to locate it, there was an incident with a bear.”

  “A what?” I gawked at him, absently pulling out a few garments I used when we traveled: my old Bane of Eris tunic and leggings, a robe designating me as a priestess of the temple of Kiriah Sunbringer, and my one nice gown of a rich, very soft garnet velvet that Hallow had given me on the day we were wed. I had only worn it once—on the night of our wedding, and then only for a few minutes before he stripped it from me, saying it made him mad with lust—but I felt strongly that if we were going to the court of Jalas and his perfect, never ruffled daughter Idril, then by the twin goddesses, I was going to look the picture of elegance.

  “Evidently Jalas has a pet bear.” Hallow stopped tossing clothing into one of the leather packs, rubbing his stubbly chin. “Avas was a bit hesitant to give details, but I gather that when he found out there was a bear guarding Jalas’s bedchamber, he shaped arcany to fool the bear, and there was…an incident.”

  I stared at him, the soft folds of my velvet gown in my hands. “You can shapeshift?”

  “Me? No.” He shook his head, gathering up a couple of journals and the sword that Deo’s father, Israel Langton, had given him. He strapped it to the top of the pack. “Master Wix never taught me such things. I doubt if he knew the way of it, himself. But Avas has spent much time in isolation, perfecting his abilities to shape arcany, and evidently he can don the appearance of other beings for a short time.”

  I carefully folded my gown and tucked it away in my leather pack. “So he went into Jalas’s bedchamber disguised as a bear, and the other bear attacked him?”

  Hallow made a choking noise, his face averted as he tucked the journals into his pack. “In a manner of speaking.”

  “But…” I thought about that for a minute. “Did he disguise himself as a female bear?”

  “No.” Hallow’s face was a mixture of amusement and what I assumed was sympathy for the arcanist who was helping him.

  “But what did Jalas’s bear do to him if not attacking or attempting to mate?”

  “Er…I didn’t actually say the latter.”

  My eyes widened. “Oh. You mean…oh! I see.”

  “I fervently hope you don’t, my heart,” Hallow answered, laughing now. “You are a priestess, after all.”

  “Pshaw,” I said, gathering my bow and quiver. “I’m not as innocent as you think, arcanist. We have men in Temple’s Vale who prefer the company of other men to those of women. Sandor said that all were blessed in Kiriah’s eyes, although she didn’t care much for those who rutted with the temple’s sheep.”

  “The goddess said that?” Hallow asked, his eyes round with surprise.

  “No, Sandor did.” I added a metal girdle that was set with silver links that Sandor had given me upon leaving the temple, feeling it would go well with the velvet gown, then closed the pack, and buckled the straps. “She said it made the sheep overly skittish around the shearers.”

  “I should imagine so,” Hallow said, his lips twitching again.

  Silence fell for a few minutes while he finished packing, then slid into the scabbard on his back the straight black wooden staff that contained the spirit of Thorn, a previous Master.

  “Mind you, she threatened to shut the sheep buggerers into a shed with one of the rams just so they could see how traumatizing it was for the ewes, but I don’t know that she ever did so. The older priests were reticent to answer my questions about that.”

  “Allegria!” he said with a shout of laughter, taking me into his arms to kiss me on the nose.

  “What?” I asked, wiggling against him, wondering if we had time for a little dalliance before we had to be on our way.

  “You are a priestess. You shouldn’t know of such things such as men preferring sheep over women, let alone terms like ‘sheep buggerers.’ You, my love, are incorrigible.”

  “I like to think of it as being curious. And that same curiosity is prodding me to ask if we’re leaving immediately to sail to Aryia, or if we have time for me to make sure that your exposure to intensive arcany last night hasn’t caused you any bodily harm.” I waggled my eyebrows at him.

  He glanced behind me toward the screen and bed. “I had intended for us to be on our way as soon as Kiriah graced us with light, but perhaps I should have you check. So long as you let me check you over, as well.”

  His hands were roaming as he spoke, sliding the bow and quiver from me and unbuckling the scabbard I wore on my back.

  “I would appreciate that,” I told him, my breath catching in my throat when the warmth of his hands seeped through my linen tunic.

  His head bent toward mine, his breath hot on my mouth when all of a sudden he swore and jerked backward, spinning around to glare at the window. “Kiriah’s bane on him!”

  “No,” I said on a whimper. “Don’t tell me.”

  “I’m sorry, my heart,” he said, handing me my scabbard before pulling the straight black staff from his back and holding it out.

  A little breeze ruffled my hair when a small black swallow darted through the window, circled us both three times, then landed on the top of the staff. The bird—like the staff itself—was made of wood.

  Thorn had returned.

  I sighed, wondering how long it would take Hallow to find some other mission upon which he could send Thorn. Although the former Master of Kelos meant well, he drove Hallow nigh on to madness with his inane chatter, demands, and orders about how to run both Kelos, and the arcanists themselves.

  “Yes, I heard you.” Hallow slid the staff into place on his back before turning an apologetic glance to me. I shrugged, knowing that Thorn was chattering away at Hallow, even if only he could hear the spirit’s voice. “Yes, she does look annoyed, but it wasn’t I who annoyed her. Thorn offers you greetings, Allegria.”

/>   “Hello, Thorn,” I said, trying to look less sexually frustrated than I felt.

  Hallow heaved up one of the packs onto his shoulder and reached for mine. I let him take it, collecting my bow and quiver, as well as gathering up some bread and fruit in a clean cloth. I followed him down the stairs, and out of the tower, smiling to myself despite the way the morning had turned out. It always amused me to listen to Hallow deal with Thorn’s excited chatter.

  “No, I’m not going to take down in writing what you have to report. We don’t need to have a permanent record of your words. If that happens, and I find it difficult to believe that vast herds of arcanists down through the ages will be lusting for a record of your every word as you think they will, then I will take responsibility for their anger. No, I am not going to employ a scribe so that I can dictate your words to him. It’s not about the coin that it would cost…Thorn, Allegria is a priestess, a lightweaver, and a former Bane of Eris. She is not going to become your scribe either. For the love of the goddesses, just tell me what you found in Starfall.”

  As we hauled the packs out to a small cart, Hallow murmured to me to tether Buttercup to the back while he fetched Penn, his gelding, all the while dealing with Thorn’s obviously non-stop liturgy of demands, comments, and information.

  “Right. I will. No, she isn’t mad at you; she would simply like to be able to talk to me, and she can’t do that if you’re talking. Yes, well, she doesn’t know how lucky she is that she can’t hear you. That wasn’t a slur…for the love of the stars and moons above, go! I don’t care where you go, just go before my mind snaps!” Hallow, who had tied his hair back in a leather thong, had run his hands through it so many times in the last fifteen minutes that tendrils flickered in the slight breeze. Thorn rose off the staff, plopped onto his head, making a rude gesture with his wooden hindquarters, then flew off to the north.

  “I’m sorry,” Hallow said, turning to me. “He was worse than usual.”

  “He just gets excited about things,” I said with a little shrug, deftly avoiding Buttercup’s teeth when I tossed a couple of water skins into the back of the cart. She liked to nip at things whenever she felt she was being taken advantage of, which was basically any time that did not include a meal. “Did he have any news from Darius?”

  “Yes.” Hallow’s expression darkened as he backed Penn up into the cart shafts. Penn usually objected to such demeaning work as pulling a cart, but he had clearly been bored by his enforced inactivity and suffered himself to be harnessed. “He’s reforming the Starborn army.”

  “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” I wondered about the little frown between Hallow’s brows.

  He hesitated, absently stroking Penn’s neck. “Under normal circumstances, yes, it would be good.”

  “What’s not normal?” I asked, confused. “You weren’t happy when he let the army of Starborn—an army that you, yourself, rounded up and organized—scatter to the winds earlier this year. So why are you frowning now?”

  His gaze held mine, the shiny blue of his eyes now pale, just as if they were frosted over. “Thorn says the army he’s building isn’t in service of the Starborn, or of the queen. It’s his own army. He’s declared the queen dead, and himself king in her place.”

  Chapter 2

  Hallow was worried.

  “I don’t see that we have much to fear,” Allegria said, climbing into the cart. “Darius is weak. He can declare himself king of all of Alba, but that doesn’t mean he actually is king. After all, he couldn’t even keep the army of Starborn from disbanding.”

  Hallow checked that the supplies were secured in the back of the cart, avoided Buttercup’s attempt to snap off his arm, and moved around the captain of the guard when the latter suddenly materialized in front of him. “Perhaps not, but Thorn said that Darius had help from a magister who seemed to have much more backbone.”

  “Going somewhere?” the captain asked, popping up in front of him again as he double-checked the harness. Penn hated drawing a cart, but it was easier than finding another horse to do the same.

  He gave Penn a consolatory pat on the neck before answering the captain. “Yes. We go to Aryia. I am placing you in charge of Kelos while we’re gone.”

  The captain pursed his lips. “All the way across the sea? Isn’t that a little premature?”

  “No. Two of the three moonstones are there.” Hallow tried not to allow his irritation with the ghostly captain to show. Although they’d worked out a mostly peaceful relationship since Hallow had taken over as head of the arcanists—and Master of Kelos—the captain seemed to delight in challenging him at every opportunity, throwing obstacles in his path whenever possible.

  “But what of the third?” the captain asked in what Hallow would have deemed a coy voice had it been anyone else.

  “A magister?” Allegria asked at the same time, clearly chewing over the idea of Darius’s treachery. “What is a Fireborn doing helping the steward of the Starborn?”

  “Undoubtedly claiming some power.” Hallow turned to get into the cart, but once again the captain stood in his way.

  “You do not answer me?” the captain demanded, now looking insulted. “Do I no longer matter to your grandiose plans now that you are Master?”

  Hallow only just managed to keep from rolling his eyes, reminding himself that patience was his most valuable tool when dealing with the deceased. “I don’t know where the third stone is, but there are twelve arcanists besides me hunting for it, so I’m sure we’ll find it. Now if you don’t mind, we would like to get underway before Kiriah sends the moon into the sky.”

  The captain pursed his lips and cast a pointed glance at Allegria. She didn’t see it, frowning as she stared at nothing, obviously thinking about Darius. Hallow got into the cart next to her, and started Penn moving forward.

  The captain disappeared, then materialized directly in front of Penn. The horse was used to the spirits of Kelos by now, and simply swished his tail in irritation as he marched through the translucent figure.

  Hallow had a glimpse of outrage on the captain’s face before his insubstantial form dissolved.

  “I don’t see what benefit this magister hopes to gain from helping Darius. For one, magisters fall under the domain of Lord Israel, and we both know that the lord of the Fireborn isn’t going to take kindly to one of his own defecting to Darius. Especially since the latter let us all down when it came to clearing out the Harborym last year.” Allegria’s face always gave Hallow pleasure, but now, with her abstracted expression, he had an almost overwhelming urge to take her into his arms and kiss every inch of her lightly freckled skin. He particularly liked to kiss the circlet of black dots that crossed her forehead, a relic of her time as a Bane of Eris.

  “Lord Israel is more than a little unhappy with Darius since he has refused to attend any of the councils of the four armies, but I don’t know that he would be overly upset by a magister working with the Starborn. It might very well be that the man is there on his orders,” he pointed out.

  The captain of the guard’s form shimmered into view again in front of Penn. This time, he held out one hand, commanding, “Halt!”

  Both Hallow and Penn ignored him as his form was dispersed again. Hallow’s thoughts were turned toward the arguments he would lay before the guardians of the two moonstones he and his arcanists had located, which left him little time to worry about placating the irate captain.

  “A spy, you mean?” Allegria asked. “I suppose he could be acting in that role, although wouldn’t Darius be suspicious of him, and suspect that he might be working for Lord Israel?”

  “You give Darius more credit than perhaps he deserves,” Hallow said judiciously. His own opinion of Darius was that the man was weak-minded, and weaker still of spirit, taking the easy path whenever it was presented to him rather than considering what was best for his fellow Starborn. He seemed to have little rega
rd for anything but his own comfort, leaving the restructuring of Starborn society to individuals who weren’t equipped for such responsibilities.

  “Oh, I have no doubt that the man is an idiot,” Allegria said with a disgusted snort that delighted Hallow. “He wanted Deo and me killed, after all. Only someone lacking in even the most basic levels of common sense would want to eliminate the very people who saved his wretched hide.”

  The captain appeared in the road again, this time with his sword in hand, striding toward them with a purposeful look on his face. Penn, sensing that this time the captain had donned a corporeal form, stopped, and tossed his head in warning.

  “For the love of Bellias, you will not treat me as if I am a mere lackey, one who is unimportant in the functioning of Kelos and Genora!” The captain’s voice echoed off the broken buildings, stirring little swirls of the grey dust that covered everything around them. “You will heed me!”

  Hallow pulled his thoughts from the concerns that plagued him and turned his attention to the irate spirit. “What is it you want? I left you in charge—you can have no complaint that I have usurped your position by placing another spirit, perhaps one who doesn’t wave his sword in my horse’s face, in charge of Kelos.”

  “Ask the priest!” the captain said, crossing his arms despite the fact that he still held his sword. “She swore she would tell you after I allowed her access to the crypt so she could hone her skills, which naturally stirred up the Eidolon. I expect the thane will be speaking to you of her scurrilous actions.”

  Hallow raised an eyebrow at Allegria. “You went into the crypt to stir up the spirits?”

  She spoke a very un-priestly word under her breath, glared for a few seconds at the captain, then turned a smile on him. “Of course not.”

  “You didn’t go into the crypt?” he asked.