“Shhh,” she rebuked him, putting a finger across his lips. “This was not your fault. It was T’Lar’s and mine. I betrayed you and your trust. I should have died for that. This is far better than I deserve.”
“I have forgiven that already,” he said quickly, “and you redeemed yourself when you saved Irene.”
“That is not enough,” said Alyssa, looking at the ground.
“Then you will have to live your life making it up to me,” he growled, pulling her closer. She lifted her lips toward his, but the recent memory of their last kiss made him turn his head aside.
Her eyes registered disappointment.
“What happened before…,” he began.
“That won’t happen again,” she told him. “Now that they have you, I doubt they care what we do.”
“What was it? I don’t understand.”
“None of us do,” she admitted. “We aren’t allowed to talk about it. You saw what happened to me a while ago.”
“Aren’t the questions driving you mad?”
“Yes, and until I saw you I had given in to despair. I had thought to put myself out of this misery, but even that is not allowed. I am ashamed of my joy at seeing you, for now you are trapped with me.”
In spite of himself, he found his hands tracing lines along the curve of her back. “There are worse things,” he told her.
“No,” she said, “I don’t think so.”
“Then let me help you forget for a little while.”
They made love then, with a desperate urgency that only those without hope could understand, and after they had finished they lay quietly on her small bed in the darkened room. Gram stroked her hair and tried to pretend that the events of the past day hadn’t happened, even though he knew he couldn’t forget.
As the sun dropped lower and dusk fell Alyssa rose from his side, “I have to go to work.”
“Work?”
“I wait tables at the Drunken Goat. Bran rents me this room in exchange for that,” she explained. “We commoners have to work, or we don’t eat.”
Gram felt a hot knot of jealousy in his chest as another question rose within him, “Is he the one?”
She frowned, “The one what?”
“The one you kissed.”
“What?!”
“Don’t play dumb. You must have kissed someone. Otherwise how did you get this?” He pointed at his neck.
Her eyes narrowed angrily. “Oh, you stupid, stupid man! You think I came back to Dunbar and found a lover, even before my wounds were fully healed?”
Gram shrugged, “Not exactly, but you could have had one before you knew me…”
“No,” she said flatly. “I did only as my master commanded. I had no lovers, only targets. I had no life before I met you. ‘Jasmine’ was a slave. My existence was blind obedience. You ended that when you killed T’Lar.”
“Then how did…?”
“One of the physicians, after I was brought back to Halam,” she explained. “I was barely conscious when he forced my jaws open and dropped it in my mouth.”
“Oh.”
An awkward silence ensued, until eventually Gram spoke once more, “I didn’t mean to imply…”
Alyssa put a finger over his lips, “Yes, your thought irritated me, but I have no right to expect you to trust me, not after all that I have done. You should not apologize.” She stood and began dressing.
“What do I do while you are gone? I need to find my friends.”
“You cannot,” she cautioned. “You are a danger to them now. Anything you do will only make things worse, for them as well as for yourself.”
He grimaced, “I can’t accept this.”
“Slavery isn’t about acceptance, it’s about survival.” She turned away and stepped through the door, glancing back once. “I’ll be back when the tavern closes. Please be here.” Her eyes were silently pleading, and then she was gone.
Chapter 12
Chad held perfectly still as he watched Alyssa leave. He sat on an empty door stoop, an empty pipe dangling loosely from the fingers of one hand. Many people made the mistake of ducking or looking away when their quarry came into sight, but he knew better. Any sudden movement would draw eyes to the hunter. Better to remain still. Alyssa probably noted his presence, but she instinctively avoided looking directly at him to prevent an awkward meeting of the eyes. Consequently, she had no chance of identifying him.
Not that she would have recognized him anyway. Gone were his hunting leathers, covered by a rough tunic and loose trousers. His bow was stashed in a trash pile nearby, and a broad brimmed hat covered his head. The ranger’s eyes followed her as she walked a short distance down the road before turning to enter the Drunken Goat.
Didn’t go very far, did she? he noted mentally. He kept his place. Patience was his only remaining ally.
After escaping from Gram and Alyssa it had been surprisingly easy to avoid the other people of the town who had been hunting them. Before it had seemed as though no matter how he and Gram had hidden they were eventually discovered. The only conclusion he could draw from that was that somehow they had been able to track or follow Gram. Now that he was alone, there was little to differentiate him from the other citizens of Halam.
An’ it was somethin’ other than just our looks. At a guess, he figured it must have been Gram’s magical sword, either that, or they simply didn’t care about a middle-aged bowman.
Chad couldn’t disagree with that assessment, though. He had no arrows and no magic, and he preferred it that way. Better to be in the background than to draw notice or be seen as important. Being underestimated had always been to his benefit, and while he wasn’t proud of it, he had probably killed more people than anyone he had ever met, except the Count di’Cameron, of course. It was rather hard to compete with that man’s body count.
Moira will just have to take care of herself for a day or two, he told himself. Once I know what these two are up to, I can find her or the dragons an’ we can decide what needs doin’.
A rumble drew his attention, and he glanced at the sky. Storm clouds were gathering, indicating an impending downpour, which suited him just fine. He would watch until Alyssa returned home before catching a few hours of sleep for himself. Looking back at the doorway, he knew that no one would be bothering him. The owner of the small house was no longer in any position to complain.
“An’ he was kind enough to lend me these fine clothes,” muttered the hunter. He checked his tunic once more to make sure there were no visible blood stains. I should check to see where he keeps his tobacco. Long as I’m holdin’ this fine pipe, I might as well have a smoke.
***
It was close to midnight when Cassandra and Grace began their flyover. There should have been a half-moon that night, but the clouds had solved that problem for them. They flew barely a thousand feet above the town, confident that no one could spot them in the gloom. Grace was the first to find her partner.
Gram!
Grace, came his somewhat hesitant reply.
She sensed something off in his response, What’s wrong?
I’ve been captured, sort of…
What?! she asked in alarm.
You have to stay away from me, I’m not in control of myself anymore, he replied quickly.
Not in control? What does that mean?
It’s hard to explain. There’s something inside me. I’m not sure if it can hear my thoughts. This isn’t safe, he told her.
Grace was confused and frustrated by his statements. She needed to know more. None of that makes sense. You need to tell me more. I can help you, she returned.
Gram’s answer was quick and emphatic, Stay away, Grace! Warn the others… His thoughts stopped abruptly as she felt a surge of pain rip through his mind, pain that passed straight to her through their link. For a second, her nerves felt as if they had been set on fire, and then darkness overwhelmed her. Her wings twitched and folded. She was falling.
She came to hers
elf a short time later. She lay in a dim alley, but that was no obstacle for her keen eyes. The wall beside her was made of timber, cracked and bowing inward, as though it had been struck by something moving at high speed. That probably explained the pain she felt when she began untangling her wings. Something had broken in one of them, one of the long bones.
If I had known bodies could hurt so much, I might have rethought my decision to become a dragon, thought Grace. She could feel Gram nearby. He was walking toward her, and focusing her vision in his direction she saw him turn the corner.
She felt a sense of relief at the sight of him, but only for a moment. As she got her legs under her she could sense the wrongness in him. His eyes were open as he approached, but Gram’s mind was silent, as though he had fallen into a deep slumber. No, not even slumber, she realized, more like a coma.
Gram stopped ten yards away, and his lips opened, “Destroy the other dragon.”
Grace’s eyes widened, “What’s wrong with you? You know I won’t do that!”
“I command it, and you will obey.” The words fell from lips empty of all emotion.
Despite herself, Grace sank her clawed feet into the timbered wall beside her and began to climb. She would have flown, but her damaged wing made that impossible. Gram! Wake up! she shouted at him with her mind, but she couldn’t reach him.
Cassandra was flying closer, having circled to return after seeing Grace fall from the sky beside her. Grace are you alright? What happened?
Grace had reached the roof now, and she knew Cassandra would spot her momentarily. She couldn’t fly, but she expected that her companion would likely fly down to help her. Inside she was screaming, raging at herself, but her body refused to obey, and her mind quietly calculated a plan of attack. She felt as though her heart and soul had been split into two separate entities. One blindly following orders, while the other watched in horror.
She could see the chain of events forming already. Once she was close she would make a surprise attack. Cassandra was more than twice her size, but Grace had grown considerably over the past week. If she could get her jaws around the soft part of the other dragon’s neck, just below the head, she might well succeed.
Cassandra was landing now, her heavy body making the roof beams groan as her weight came to bear on them.
Grace had no choice, but rather than let the surprise scenario her mind had provided play out, she threw herself voluntarily at the other dragon, shrieking a roar of challenge and baring her teeth as she charged.
That at least gave Cassandra a brief warning, and she turned her head to meet the unexpected attack. She caught the smaller dragon’s initial assault with the bony crest that protected the upper portion of her head before sweeping Grace aside with a heavy blow from one forelimb. Grace rolled and scrabbled along the slate roof tiles before slipping off and hitting the ground with a heavy thud.
What are you doing?! shouted Cassandra in Grace’s head, but she couldn’t answer. All her desired responses were warnings, and the enchantment that bound her to obedience had clamped down even more strongly after her subtle attempt to undermine Gram’s command a moment before.
Grace began clawing her way up the side of the building once more, her sharp claws tearing heavy splinters and shards of wood away as she struggled to reach her designated foe. Cassandra watched her for a moment before spreading her wings and launching herself skyward once more.
Rising quickly, the larger dragon spotted Gram in the alleyway and understanding dawned as she realized the source of Grace’s sudden change in behavior, although it still made little sense. Cassandra began flying away.
Faced with a target she couldn’t hope to reach, Grace dropped back to the ground and began running through the streets, following as closely as she could from her earthbound position. She knew she couldn’t catch the flying dragon, but inwardly she was glad, not only of that, but also that she was now out of earshot. Gram couldn’t give her any further orders if she couldn’t hear him.
Fortunately, there were very few people on the streets that late, but the few she encountered got the fright of their lives. Grace had grown and was now slightly larger than the average horse. One man turned and saw her racing toward him in the dim light, and once she was close enough for his eyes to resolve her reptilian features he screamed and threw himself sideways.
She hoped he wasn’t injured as he fell against a building in his haste. Grace ran past without pausing. She could still sense Cassandra in the air above, and she couldn’t stop.
Did he order this? asked Cassandra.
Nothing in her order prevented honesty, especially now that the element of surprise was lost. Yes, answered Grace. Something has happened to him. When he first spoke to me, before he started acting oddly, he told me he was no longer in control.
If it wasn’t him, shouldn’t the enchantment allow you to ignore the command?
It was a verbal order. Apparently the enchantment doesn’t discriminate very well, she replied.
What if Moira has also fallen prey to whatever has Gram? wondered Cassandra.
That hadn’t occurred to Grace yet, but it was a terrible thought. Then you must avoid her, otherwise she might give you a similar command.
You said it was a verbal command, noted Cassandra, but he warned you mentally beforehand. Correct?
Grace gave the mental equivalent of a nod.
Then I will lead you on a futile chase until I locate her. Once I have found her, I will fly beyond your range, which should leave you free to help her.
That was a clever plan, and Grace had to admire the other dragon’s forethought. She had another question though, and despite her better judgement the enchantment forced her to ask, What will you do after that?
A brief pause came then, as Cassandra considered her response. Nothing. I will fly higher for a while.
Grace smiled inwardly, grateful that her friend had realized the trap. If she had told her what her plans were, Grace would have been forced to try and follow her. Leaving her in the dark would allow her the freedom to actually help Moira.
***
Gram found himself standing alone in an alley, not far from Alyssa’s apartment. He remembered warning Grace, but his memories turned black after that. He had lost control.
The last time, while hunting Chad, he had been able to remember most of what had happened, but this time he was left wondering. There had been a flash of pain, and then—nothing. He couldn’t be sure why he had been able to remember the time before, but not this time. It might have to do with the duration, or the method of transition, but such things were beyond him.
He waited quietly for several minutes, considering his options. He didn’t know where Grace had gone, or where any of his other companions were, nor did he really want to meet them—not in his current condition. There was only one practical option left to him. Turning back, he headed for Alyssa’s door.
As he began to move he heard a faint sound. His ears automatically focused, and then he could hear the sound of breathing, along with a heartbeat. He might have missed it in the ordinary noise of the city, but at this time of night it was quiet enough to pick out from the background noise. Someone lurked, hidden half a block away around a corner. Whether it was a stranger or someone deliberately watching him, he had no way of knowing.
He kept those observations in the silence of his unspoken awareness, the place that Cyhan had taught him, the darkness of raw sensation where the unconscious worked beneath formalized thought. As his perception worked its way into the light of his conscious he gave it a verbal form, probably just a late night drunk out wandering. But somewhere deeper, he doubted the truth of that statement.
Gram walked on, returning to the room where Alyssa lived.
Chapter 13
Moira watched the rain from a small window. The house that held the window was situated in one of the most squalid parts of Halam. It belonged to Wat’s mother, his father had died years earlier.
His mot
her, Lana Perkins, was elderly to say the very least. In fact, Moira thought she might be the most decrepit example of womankind that she had ever met. The crone had no teeth that she could discern, not that she had wanted to get close enough to count them. The smell had been enough to discourage close proximity.
Such thoughts are unbecoming and uncharitable, Moira chided herself mentally. She had accepted their offer of shelter, and now she felt bad about her observations. Still, she couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose. The elderly Mrs. Perkins was not the only thing that smelled. The house itself reeked of old refuse and new mold.
Gerold had awoken briefly, when Stretch had gently deposited him in what passed for a bed at the Perkins house. The pain of his shifting position had elicited a cry from him, and his eyes had opened.
Focusing blearily on Moira he had managed a short question, “Where are we?”
“I’m not really sure,” she had answered, “Somewhere in the city, hiding from your king’s guardsmen.”
“How…?” Gerold gasped at a sudden pain, unable to finish his next question.
“The answer to that is complicated,” she told him. “The short answer is that we escaped and are now fugitives.”
The Baron’s eyes widened with alarm, but he couldn’t seem to form any more words. His eyes were losing focus, and she could sense his consciousness becoming more diffuse. Moira hurried to offer him a cup of water. The man badly needed fluids to help make up for the blood he had lost.
“Drink as much as you can,” she urged, but after two long swallows his hand sagged, and she had to catch the cup before it fell to the floor. Her eyes misted as she considered his wounds once more. Poor Gerold, he didn’t deserve this… Leaning over, she brushed the hair back from his forehead. “Rest now, you are safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
The words were more of a promise to herself than for him. Her magesight had already shown her that he was beyond hearing her.
Wat stepped into the room, a question in his eyes.
“What is it?” she asked, fighting to keep her own exhaustion at bay.
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