A Shaper's Birthright

by Karen MacRae

  “Would you honour us with your gift, young lady?” the Stone Elder asked.

  Seleste looked over, startled at the old man’s knowledge. “I am not dressed for Dancing, sir,” she said politely, assuming he referred to that and not her skills with a blade.

  Kendrick continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Perhaps a Claidhemdanns? I’ve only seen it done once, in my youth when I was far from home. I doubt any here have ever seen such a spectacle. It would be a great honour and would help your cause no end. Who gives must receive, according to our custom.”

  Seleste looked at Finn. He had no idea what a Claidhemdanns was but realised that Seleste must as she didn’t question the Stone Elder. He nodded his approval and Seleste got up from the table, excitement radiating through her aura as she mentally ran through steps she hadn’t done in years.

  Anna opened her mouth to ask Kendrick what a Claidhemdanns was, but he lifted a finger to quieten her. They watched as Seleste stopped by the table to have a heated conversation with her brother then made her way around the dancers to the band. She spoke to one of the guitarists and disappeared from view as she bent to remove her boots. Kendrick asked Finn for the Dancer’s full name then stood and banged the stone head of his walking stick on the table. The noise reverberated around the square, feet stilled and silence fell. Everyone looked towards the Stone Elder.

  Kendrick spoke at length in Shaen and the crowd cheered. He repeated an abridged version of the speech in Standard for the visitors’ benefit. “We are honoured this day by our friends from the mainland. They know the importance of Shae. They seek our support and guidance. They also do us the great honour of a Claidhemdanns. Miss Seleste Peyton of Norcombe,” he called, holding his hand out to the waiting assassin.

  Anna gaped as she saw Seleste walk to the centre of the square dressed only in her underwear. The grace of her walk alone proclaimed her gift and her skimpy garb somehow seemed fitting. All eyes were glued to her. She nodded and Spider, Sy and Lachlan walked into the dance space, their arms full of borrowed blades. They spilled them onto the sandy ground in three piles then rearranged them randomly in a ring about twenty feet from Seleste. Spider pulled a laughing woman from the crowd and gestured for her to tie her scarf around Seleste’s eyes. Now blindfolded, the assassin raised a hand and Kendrick called out in Shaen. Four men darted forward and began to move all the blades so Seleste could have no idea where they were. Each was wedged so at least one edge was up. Walking across the space would be difficult without slicing a foot or leg, but Dancing blind?

  Anna caught Finn’s eye. “What the light?”

  “We must trust Seleste’s gift. She’d have said no if she thought it beyond her.”

  “She can’t have done it since Seask or even before. It’s madness.”

  “She knows you won’t let anything happen to her.”

  “I can’t make body parts grow back again!” Anna hissed as the drums started a deathly slow pulse.

  Seleste began so slowly eyes questioned whether she’d moved at all. Anna’s heart was in her mouth, praying Seleste would be safe. Malik watched with a grim expression on his face. He longed to run into the circle and stop the dance but knew Seleste would never forgive him.

  The early part of the dance reminded Anna of the Seaskian patterns Seleste did every morning. Slow, controlled, hypnotising, every move seemed to reach into your soul until your heart pounded in time to the drum. Then, to some invisible sign, the rhythm ever so slowly began to quicken, a guitar picked out an ancient tune and Seleste responded, her body speaking directly to your mind and soul until your entire being was lost in wonder. The other musicians joined in and then the singers, their voices blending in a spontaneous sound they’d never achieved before. The music quickened and the blindfolded Dancer leapt and spun around her stage. Each circling of the blade-studded ground got faster and faster, the Dancer’s feet missing injury by less than a hair’s breadth. When you thought she couldn’t possibly jump higher or spin faster, she did just that. She became almost a blur. Hearts pounding, fists in their mouths with the insane danger and skill of it all, the audience couldn’t tear their eyes away.

  Suddenly, it was over. Seleste stood in the spot where she’d started, her body glistening with sweat, her chest heaving, her silver aura glowing, alive with whirling colour. It took a moment for the audience to get their breath back and then screams and shouts rang out from all around.

  Kendrick beat the table with his cane’s handle in delight. “What a treat! What an honour! Light, she is incredible!” he cried. He turned to Finn. “You will have all the peristone you can carry for next to nothing, King’s man. This was more precious than gold.”

  The townspeople reclaimed their weapons and crowded around Seleste, singing her praises and giving heart-felt thanks for such an incredible performance. Spider threw Seleste her shirt as the musicians struck up a new tune. His sister had just about got the shirt on when a young lad pulled her into a group of eight for a complicated reel. The Dancer laughed with delight, her hands clapping with the locals, her feet as sure as if she’d been born knowing the steps.

  Anna watched with a smile as the King’s Guards joined the music-makers and Malik persuaded the gaggle of girls around him to form more eights and join the dance, pulling Spider and Sy along with them. The mood was infectious, ale was flowing, feet were tapping and smiles were on every face. Anna turned to ask Finn if he danced, but he, as ever, had his mind firmly on their mission. She didn’t want to interrupt his conversation with the Stone Elder so she went back to enjoying the party.

  Each time the tune changed, people reorganised themselves into new groups, the newcomers as involved as the most enthusiastic of locals. It was some time before the tune called for pairs. Anna caught a glimpse of cobalt blue and thought her heart might stop when she saw Euan make his way towards her table. He came to her side and held out a hand, the only one brave enough to ask the Shaper to dance. There, on the palm of his hand was a snakeskin birthmark, identical to her own. She looked up at his face in shock. The blue eyes were sure and unashamed, his aura confidently declaring his claim to this woman. Uncertain, scared almost, Anna held out her hand and birthmarks met. There was no clap of thunder or crescendo of drums, but they both felt a spark ignite their gifts and, without any conscious input, white light poured through the peristone bracelets and was swallowed by the cobalt blue.

  They’d only danced one dance when the Stone Elder thumped the table. As before, everything stopped and respectful faces turned to their leader. The speech was long and in Shaen. Questions were called out and answered until agreement was reached. The Stone Elder turned to Finn.

  “You will have all of our good peristone beads. You must understand, however, that a full set of beads takes at least ten years to Craft. We ask, therefore, that for every four sets you receive, the King pays for one Shaen to work as a Stone Crafter for his or her lifetime.” Kendrick leaned in close to the King’s man. “Don’t try to negotiate, young Finn. It’s a good deal and will revive this island better than any amount of gold.”

  “A guard’s salary?”

  “A Sergeant’s, I think.”

  “No beads to be produced unless the King approves?”

  “Of course.”

  “Done.”

  Finn stood and faced the crowd. He reached inside his shirt and withdrew the King’s medallion. Holding it aloft, he promised the King’s commitment to the agreement reached today with Kendrick, Stone Elder of Shae, and the people of Tuath. He finished with the King’s Oath. Almost all put their hands to their hearts and said the words with him, Kendrick included. Anna was surprised to see that many of them didn’t have a golden badge over their hearts, but she soon forgot when Euan pulled her to face him.

  “You have your own oath,” he said for her ears only. “I can feel it.”

  “Forever White,” said Anna solemnly. She felt the white net around her heart pulse in response.

  Euan softly brushed the birth
mark on Anna’s face before pulling her close, his eyes fixed on hers. “Forever White,” he swore. “Forever yours.”

  CHAPTER 23

  T he party continued as various people disappeared to retrieve peristone. Kendrick and his great grandchildren looked at every set, returning most as imperfect or lacking in the strength needed to be of value to Nystrieth. The final tally was eleven.

  “My aunt’s necklace is like these and I remember a couple of women wearing similar at a dance in Deas,” said Beitris.

  “Aye, there’ll be another dozen or so sets of quality,” agreed Kendrick. “I’ll tell you the crofts to visit. The twins will guide you. Their Standard isn’t as good as their brother’s, but it’s good enough to get by if you’ve someone in each group who can speak a little Shaen. This is Caitlin and this is Ailie.” The twins nodded hellos to the King’s men.

  “Cherry, is your ear in?” Finn asked. The Language-gifted Mastran rattled off some Shaen as if he’d lived there all his life. The girls giggled and Seleste glowered.

  “I swear I’ll cut out your tongue if you carry on like that while I’m around,” she growled softly.

  “Sorry, my love. Old habits,” Malik said quietly.

  “Then learn new ones,” Seleste told him with a stern face though her aura twirled with pleasure at Malik’s endearment.

  Anna hid a smile. Seleste had liked the ‘my love’ a lot.

  Finn and Kendrick were discussing the best way to split the team up.

  “If speed is the main priority, I’d recommend sending one group to pick up the crofts close to Tuath and another team around the coast road to the far crofts,” the Stone Elder said. “You’ll only need the one team in the north for Deas and the two crofts with beads beyond. There’ll still be some loose stones about, but strangers will find it almost impossible to find a complete set without my help.”

  Finn nodded his thanks. “How long do you think to collect the beads?” he asked.

  “It’s much the same time over the hills to the Craft Hall from everywhere, but the far team will take longer to get started. If you leave now, the first teams should be at the Hall on Fourthday morning. We’ll have to get you horses. Your own won’t make it, Finn, trust me. Ours are bred for the terrain. They’re more like big goats than horses in some ways.”

  “Local horses and three teams it is then,” agreed Finn. “Spider, Beitris, Jimmy and Caitlin, I want you covering the crofts nearest Beitris’ aunt’s place. Sy, you’re with Lachlan, Hew and Ailie on the far crofts. The rest of you with me to Deas. Use every hour of light and keep your eyes open for enemies. We don’t know if they made it to Ionantis, but, if they did, they may already be on Shae.”

  Nystrieth’s spies were at that moment arguing with the Captain about the best place to anchor. He was dead set against docking at Tuath.

  “No, I don’t recognise the ship, but I recognise the colours it’s flying and I’m not taking on a ship load of King’s Navy,” he said resolutely. “It’s Deas or further round and that’s the best I can do.”

  Elona and Mystrim conferred. “I won’t be able to do more than make a breeze for another day, Elona. Saving us really took it out of me so we have to be cautious. Anyway, we’re more likely to find something we can use out of the way and if we have to take on Braxton and his lot, we need to do it by stealth, not by sailing straight into town.”

  Elona wouldn’t call getting blown off course and then having to wait out the storm in some distant bay for a whole day saving anything but the rest made sense. She nodded reluctantly. “Further round,” she told the Captain.

  They anchored off a small bay about ten miles east of Deas. The four spies were rowed to shore along with five sailors they’d hired from the Captain. Elona hadn’t bothered to learn their names. All she cared was that they were worth the extortionate eight gold pieces each per day she was paying. All five were experienced fighters, handy with blades, crossbow and fists and one also had a Language gift, which the Captain had assured her was essential as the yokels on many of The Kingdom’s islands didn’t speak Standard. The Captain had refused point blank to come with them. “You can’t afford me,” he’d murmured before doing that thing he did that made her brain turn to jelly.

  Nijel saw the look on the Reader’s face and fell deeper into his sulk. He’d been completely ignored for days. He was only there because of her and she didn’t give a damn about him. He sighed. He’d known that already, of course, but to have it so flagrantly demonstrated was hard to take.

  Pyteor was looking ahead to the rocky outcrop where they would land. His mind was filled with ways in which he found the perfect peristones and earned his master’s eternal gratitude. More immediate concerns broke into his daydreaming when he made out the path up from the beach. “Can we please find a harbour next time?” he said with a sigh. “I am sick of having to make like a goat.”

  “You don’t like rain, you don’t like foreign lands and you don’t like anything that might make you break out in a sweat. I’m thinking I should let our master know that this line of work is too much trouble for you, Concealer,” snapped Elona.

  Pyteor gulped. “No, no, not at all, Reader. I was… I mean… I…”

  “Just shut your mouth and keep it shut.”

  They arrived at the top of the coastal path at twilight. The terrain looked the same in every direction: bleak. “We head towards Deas and stop at the first farm we come across,” Elona ordered.

  All they saw for the next two hours was the occasional distant cottage, sheep, sheep and more sheep. The grassy path was well trodden and free of any obstacles but an occasional stream so the sailors chatted happily with Pyteor and Nijel, telling them about other places they’d raided and all the different ways they’d found to kill a sheep. “Quiet or I’ll show you some new ways to kill a man,” Elona snarled. “Can you not smell the smoke?”

  Eight silent men followed her along the path. They saw lights a mile or so further on. There wasn’t much to the farm they came to, just a small, whitewashed cottage with thick smoke pouring from an oversize chimney, a quiet, ramshackle barn and a few animal pens all encircled by a stone wall. Two dogs slept on the cottage’s front step, the lights shining from every window making their eyes as insensitive as the northerly wind made their noses.

  “Nijel, go roll in that puddle over there,” Elona whispered. “Get yourself good and muddy.”

  “What?” he asked. “Why me?”

  “What have I said about questioning my orders?” she asked, her voice like ice.

  “Sorry, Elona. Of course, anything you say.”

  The others sniggered as Nijel laid down in the puddle and got himself well and truly soaked.

  “Now go make nice with the farmers. You’re a young lad visiting Shae who got separated from your friends. Be ready with that dagger if we get any resistance when we come to find you.”

  Nijel nodded, his stomach fluttering with excitement at the thought of using his dagger.

  The dogs went berserk when the Healer walked up the path. The front door opened and a man called out almost like he was singing.

  “Hello!” called Nijel. “Thank the light someone’s in. Can you help me, please, sir? I’m afraid I’m lost.”

  The man took one look at the bedraggled boy and shouted for his wife. She came to the door then disappeared to return with a blanket. She wrapped it around Nijel and walked him straight inside to sit in front of the smouldering peat fire.

  “Fools,” sneered Elona.

  “Simpletons,” agreed Mystrim.

  Nijel didn’t have a clue what was being said and his explanation was met with blank looks so it was all too easy. He was sipping at a mug of slightly stale caffe when the dogs started barking again. “That’ll be my friends,” he said, making to stand up. The man of the house pushed him gently back down into his chair and sang at him, his hands gesturing for him to stay by the fire.

  The farmer walked over to the door and opened it wide to see a tall, bl
onde woman in man’s clothing, a concerned look on her face.

  “I’m looking for my friend. A young man. Did he come this way?”

  The man had no idea what she’d said, but he could read the body language and tone of voice. He smiled warmly and ushered the woman inside his home. He was dead before he could close the door behind her.

  Elona was pleased to see Nijel with a dagger to the wife’s chest when she got into the small parlour. “Anyone else here?”

  “Not that I could tell.”

  “Keep her here while we check.”

  She walked back to the door and shouted for the others to search every building. She, herself, went around the small cottage. She was relieved to find an infant asleep in the smallest room. She’d killed the man without thinking. Now they had leverage.

  She picked the sleeping child up and took it downstairs. The woman was wailing over her dead husband, Nijel standing over her with his blade handy. The kill had gone some way to cheering Elona up, but this annoying noise would soon have her bad-tempered again. “Be quiet!” she roared, making sure the woman saw her put a knife to her brat’s throat. The woman didn’t need an interpreter to understand the threat. She gulped back her sobs, but the child woke and started shrieking. Elona waved the woman to a small sofa and threw it to her. The mother cradled the brat in her arms and spoke to it softly, calming it. It never ceased to amaze Elona how pathetic parents were. It’s not like they couldn’t make another child.