"As a matter of fact," she began, "there is something. I hesitate to ask. I don't want to put you out . . ."
"No, no—I said anything, anything at all. The House of Moirre is at your service."
"Well, I've been thinking. We've grown quite used to the woman you've sent to serve us. She's a hard worker and is handy with things. We could use her. Would you be able to send her with us—if she's willing to go, of course?"
"She's a slave. What she wants has nothing to do with anything." Zan suspected he was talking to give himself time to think; she opened her mind to his racing thoughts. Dear gods. Could she possibly know the slave is a shapeshifter? But how could she? I can't imagine that slave offering any information about herself—she's as sullen as they come. And 'hard worker?' Her? There's something odd here. I should refuse, but how, with the honor of my House involved?
His thoughts gave Zan a clue about how to play out the scene. She allowed her face to show distress as she said, "Forget I asked, Efiran. You've already been more than generous. Please forgive my rudeness. I did not intend to overstep the bounds of your hospitality."
Overstep the bounds! The intensity of that thought flickered in his expression, but was quickly suppressed. Condemn her to the dry lands! I wish I knew whether she is as naive as she appears or as cunning as my nightmares. But I cannot compromise the honor of my House. "My dear 'Tsan. You must not imagine that the gift of a single slave could overstep the bounds of Moirre hospitality. Certainly I will give her to you, along with my heartfelt prayers that she will serve you well and faithfully." I wish you joy of the sullen wench—and if you're up to something, I hope she knifes you. He reached for the bell pull. A servant answered and he sent for the shapeshifter. When she came in, he said, "Slave, I have given you to 'Tsan and the Orathi. Serve them well." This bears watching, though the damage may already be done.
The shapeshifter turned her colorless eyes on Zan. Her mind was shut, but she looked shocked, betrayed.
Zan thanked Efiran politely, then began gathering up bundles and handing them to the shapeshifter. "We need to move these things out of Efiran's study," she explained.
It took them three trips. The shapeshifter obeyed, but there was rage in her every movement. After the last trip, Zan closed the door of the guest suite firmly behind them and waved the shapeshifter to a chair. The twins had gone with Vihena to watch the Khedathi at sword practice, so Zan knew she and the slave would be undisturbed.
"It's not what you think," she began, but the shapeshifter cut her off.
"How do you know what I think? I learned long ago how to close my mind!"
"Yes, but your face shows anger. I told you once that I would free you if it were in my power." She unwrapped the jeweler's hammer and chisel and laid them on her lap. "Hold out your wrists."
The shapeshifter was silent, her face still; only her strange eyes blazed, unreadable. Finally she hissed, "Why? Where's the snare? What promise are you going to exact from me first?"
"Nothing!" Zan cried. "It is true I need your help, but I will not compel you. I want you to choose freely whether to help me or not. I'm not giving you your freedom as a reward for good behavior, or on condition of a promise. If you don't want to help us, I don't want your help."
The shapeshifter studied her through narrowed, suspicious eyes. "Tell me what you need."
Zan knelt down on the floor and picked up the chisel. "Come here and give me your wrists."
"But if you free me before you tell me what you want, how can you know I will stay to hear you out?"
Zan met her eyes. "That, too, must be your choice."
The silence stretched. Finally, stiffly, the shapeshifter joined Zan and laid her arm on the floor. Zan pinned a piece of the silver chain under the chisel, then struck the chisel a sharp blow with the hammer. The chain parted and slid away from the shapeshifter's wrist. Zan repeated the procedure with the second wrist, then motioned for the shapeshifter to lie down. The neck chain was trickier, for it was not quite long enough to break easily. It took a couple of tries before it, too, slid away. Zan straightened her back, but then noticed that the shapeshifter was holding out a foot; there were chains around her ankles as well.
"They weren't taking any chances with you, were they?"
The look on the shapeshifter's face made Zan suppress a shudder. "Perhaps they had reason not to," she said, her tone dangerous.
Without giving herself a chance to reconsider, Zan struck off the last two chains. Then she went back to her chair.
Before her, the shapeshifter's outline dissolved. First she became shapeless, a sort of thick fog; then the fog coalesced into a new shape: a wolf. As it turned slowly to face Zan, she saw its strange, almost colorless gray eyes. The wolf drew its lips back from its teeth in a soundless snarl and started toward Zan. Closer and closer it came. Zan watched it, her mind a mix of wondering emotions and cold spurts of fear. She forced herself not to flinch away as the wolf reached her. It sat down on its haunches and put its head in her lap.
Tell me: what help can I give you?
Silently, forming the words with her mind, Zan explained about the journey to Windsmeet, about the need for a representative from every kindred; she expressed some of her fears of the desert and repeated some of the warnings and attitudes of others. Finally, she asked the shapeshifter whether she would go with Zan and her friends on this perilous, possibly hopeless quest.
It seemed a long time before the shapeshifter answered. What will you do if I decline?
We'll go anyway. Even if we cannot succeed, we must try.
The shapeshifter was silent for a moment, her wolf's features giving no clue to her feelings. Yet with so much at stake, you have offered me a choice? There was wonder in the thought, perhaps even respect. She hesitated. My name is Ychass. Do not speak it aloud. The wolf raised its head and Ychass became a woman again. You must not tell Efiran Moirre you have unchained me. It would be all he needs to believe you are too dangerous to be allowed to live. I trust you will not delay our departure too long.
I hope to be able to leave tomorrow, Zan confided. I am very tired of this City. Now I'd better go see what is keeping the twins. She rose. Ychass watched her.
"I will stay here," she said aloud, "and await your return."
Vihena and the twins were coming up the steps as Zan started out the great front door.
"We were just coming to find you, 'Tsan," Vihena told her.
"Let's go for a walk," Zan suggested with a meaningful look in the direction of Efiran's study.
They set off down the street. Vihena led them onto quiet, wide streets in the residential district. They walked in the center of the road and kept their voices low. Zan told them that the shapeshifter had agreed to join them, and suggested that now their party was complete, they should leave. Mindful of Ychass's warning, Zan did not mention that she had unchained the shapeshifter, and an instant later she was glad of the warning, for Vihena's face creased into lines of distress. Overriding her scruples, Zan did a little conscious mental prying. Vihena was not happy to have a shapeshifter as a member of their party, even though they had explained to her about the need for a representative of each kindred; she had never liked the cold, almost haughty manner of the slave in her father's house. However, Zan knew that Vihena recognized the need and would try to get used to the idea.
Their departure was a problem Vihena could manage. She said she would tell her father she was going out with a desert patrol—she had gone before, and the excuse would give them nearly two weeks (with luck) before Efiran began to worry about her. Patrols left every other day, and one had gone yesterday. Vihena would bid her family farewell as though she were going with the Khedathi, but would instead meet Zan and the others in the desert.
"There's a place called Redstone three or four hours' journey due west of the City gate. I will leave the City well before daybreak and wait for you there. If you leave two hours after noon, you should reach me by early evening. It will be hard tra
vel, walking in the heat, but if you seem ignorant enough of desert ways to travel during the afternoon, it will help to convince the Lord that you haven't a chance of surviving and therefore aren't dangerous. But do hoard your water; there isn't any at Redstone."
"All right," Zan said softly. "We can do that for the sake of discouraging pursuit. Now I must get word to our Khedathen, so he will be able to join us as well."
"You found one? Well, I mean, you must have, if our party is complete, but who is it?"
"Remarr."
Vihena frowned, puzzled. "Who? Are you sure you have the name right? I've never heard of him, and I know all the guards."
"He's not a member of the guard," Zan said before she remembered the contempt of the Khedathi they'd met the other day. She cut off her explanation; time enough to worry about that when they'd escaped from the City. Fortunately, she had said enough to satisfy Vihena, and they returned to Efiran's house in silence.
At the last moment before they went in, Vihena seemed to come alive, and began chatting brightly with Karivet. It was a good thing, too, for when they opened the door, Efiran was standing in the hall. He greeted them politely, but Zan felt his watching eyes between her shoulder blades as they went upstairs to the guest suite. Once they reached their rooms, Vihena brushed away an imaginary brow full of sweat and whistled soundlessly.
"The last thing we need is for Father to begin wondering what we're up to," she remarked. "I can't shake the notion that the Lord of the City won't relax until he is certain you aren't coming back."
You think he might murder us? Iobeh signed. Karivet translated for Vihena.
"I fear it. But I don't think he'll try anything here. There would be too many questions. Speaking of questions, where is that shapeshifter, anyway?"
Ychass? Zan thought, questing.
Here. Her thought-voice was very strong. Zan looked about, startled, but saw no sign of her. That fly—by your hand. You can tell her I'm running an errand for you.
Would you run an errand for me? Zan asked. Sensing an affirmative, she went on. Could you go to Hobann's and find the minstrel Remarr? We're leaving the City tomorrow afternoon; he's going with us, but he mustn't be seen leaving in our company. Tell him we plan to camp tomorrow at Redstone.
Very well, the shapeshifter replied. The fly took to the air, and Zan looked up to find Vihena looking perplexed.
"I'm sorry—my mind was elsewhere. The shapeshifter is off on an errand for me. She should be back soon."
Vihena nodded. "You know, I'd better go. I must explain to my parents about the patrol, after all." She started for the door. Halfway there, she froze, her head coming up like that of a wild beast scenting danger. She touched a finger to her lips, then held it up in mute warning as she said with elaborate casualness, "I just realized; I'm going on patrol tomorrow, and I won't be back before you leave. I just want to wish you the best of luck."
"Thank you," Zan said. "Best of luck to you, as well. You've been a good hostess to us."
There was a faint tap on the door, then Pifadeh opened it. "I've been looking for you, Vihena. Captain Khehaddi came by earlier. She wondered whether you wanted to ride patrol tomorrow."
"Well, I was planning to. Perhaps I'd better make sure the captain knows that." She left, closing the door behind her.
I hope that won't foul things, Iobeh signed.
It's lucky Vihena's so quick, Karivet added.
I wonder how long Pifadeh was there. Zan cast her mind after the woman, but Pifadeh' s thoughts were full of household matters. I think we had a narrow escape, she added.
It wasn't until late in the evening that Ychass returned. The first Zan knew of it was Ychass's warning in her mind: Do not speak aloud. Tell the others. There is a spy outside your door.
A spy? Zan demanded. Who is it?
One of Efiran's Khedathi. He's armed. We don't want him alerted. Warn the others.
Zan signed the message to the others, substituting listener for the word spy, which she did not know in Iobeh's handlanguage. The twins' mouths shaped surprise, but even when a moth that had come in the window became the shapeshifter, they made no sound.
What happened? Did you find Remarr? Zan remembered to sign so the twins would be able to follow what was going on.
Yes. But he won't be able to travel tomorrow: he's hurt. He had an argument with Hobann—there's a noxious creature for you!—and lost. I got him as far as the garden, but I couldn't get him up here because of the watcher.
Hurt? How badly?
He will live, I think. I left him unconscious.
Some argument, Zan thought, shaking her head. Now what do we do?
We should leave tonight, Ychass responded. That argument began over whether or not Remarr would commit murder—specifically, three murders—for Hobann. Hobann may know someone else who won't object.
What about Vihena? Karivet asked.
We can still meet her at Redstone, Iobeh signed. She doesn't expect to see us again before she goes. With any luck, they won't know we've bolted until she's long gone.
Good thinking, Zan approved. But how are we going to get out of here?
The window gives on the garden, and there's a gate to the street if one knows where to look, Ychass supplied. Do you suppose Efiran thought to provide a rope?
There were in fact three ropes. Zan, Iobeh, and Karivet spent a tense, hurried time sorting things and stuffing them into knapsacks. Zan made certain they packed extra desertstyle clothing and water skins for Ychass and Remarr. Efiran's generosity had been unstinting and he had assumed there would be at least one pack animal, so there were satchels for each of them. Zan had a brief moment of panic when she realized there wasn't enough water in their suite to fill all the water skins, but Iobeh calmed her by reminding her of the fountains in the garden. While the three of them were thus occupied, Ychass went back to the garden to see whether she could do anything for Remarr.
They finished their silent packing, and Zan sent a mental call to Ychass, who returned to help Zan secure the ropes and lower the twins and all their gear into the garden. When all their stuff had been lowered, Zan climbed down, leaving Ychass to untie the rope so they would leave no sign that things were not as they should be.
They found Remarr where Ychass had left him, lying beside one of the fountains. They were horrified by his appearance. His face was puffy and scratched, and both of his eyes were swollen shut. Ychass had been bathing his bruises with water from the fountain, but he had not stirred. Iobeh filled the water skins while Zan and Ychass consulted. Finally it was decided that Ychass would take the shape of a mule so she could carry him and a good portion of their gear. They loaded Remarr's inert form onto Ychass as best they could.
This can't be very good for him, Zan thought.
Much better than leaving him to Hobann's care, I should think, Ychass retorted.
A pity we can't go back for his harp—we shall miss his songs.
It's there beside the fountain. When the first of Hobann's guards started in on him, his thoughts were full of hopes that it wouldn't come to harm. So I brought it. Don't you dare laugh, 'Tsan; you'll wake the house!
ELEVEN
By daybreak they had reached Redstone. They found a deeply shaded crevice in the rocks and prepared to wait. Before any of them slept, they changed into their white desert clothing. The robes were loose-fitting, with a veil that hooked into the hood, covering the nose and mouth. After they had dressed, they settled down to rest. Being smallest, Iobeh and Karivet climbed far into the crevice before they curled up to sleep, using their packs as pillows. After Zan unloaded Remarr and the gear, Ychass took her own shape and helped settle the minstrel. He moaned and stirred as Zan tried to get a little water between his bruised lips, but he did not wake.
I'm worried about him, Ychass. As the shapeshifter nodded, Zan noted the exhaustion in her drawn face. Sleep, she told her. I'll watch.
Zan propped her back against the rocks, adjusted the white hood so that it woul
d shade her eyes, and settled down to watch. The desert had a peculiar beauty, if one took the time to see it. The golden sand was wrinkled with patterns like ripples where the wind had been; the dunes stretching out before Zan's eyes looked like the marching waves of some vast, pale sea. The sky was deep blue, distant, and cloudless, and even at this early hour the horizon was shivery with heat haze. All was still: not a bird called, not a hint of breeze stirred; there were no leaves to rustle nor brooks to gurgle. There was only the sand, the sun, and the silent heat haze.
As time passed, Remarr began to stir. His moans roused Zan from her half-doze more than once. She jolted herself fully awake when she realized that Remarr had propped himself up on one elbow and was valiantly trying to get his bearings in spite of his swollen eyes.
"Welcome back to the land of the living," she said softly.
"Are you sure that's where we are?" he returned, his speech a little slurred. "I could have sworn we're in the dry lands."
His attempt at humor encouraged her and she smiled. "Would you like some water? Something to eat?"
"Water, yes. No food yet—maybe later." His elbow gave out and he lay down again. Zan lifted his head a little as she held a cup to his lips. After he drank, she let him drift back to sleep.
The next time he woke, he seemed a little better. He managed to sit up without her help, and ate some bread she soaked in water. When he had finished, he said, "How did I get here? The last I knew, I was in Hobann's stable." He looked around painfully. "Redstone?" he whispered, shocked. "No, I must still be dreaming."
Zan shook her head. "No, this is Redstone. I'll tell you the whole tale if you are up to it."
"I really think you had better."
She poured him another cup of water, then related the events of the night. The shapeshifter's part fascinated him and he interrupted several times with questions, but at last his curiosity was satisfied. Zan helped him change his City garb for desert robes before he again settled back to sleep. She watched him with welling relief.
Colors in the Dreamweaver's Loom Page 9
