He was silent. It took all of Zan's resolve to keep from probing his thoughts. Suddenly they both stiffened as another person approached: Iobeh. She looked at them both with weary eyes and signed, They had ridden hard and were very tired. It would never have worked otherwise.
The minstrel looked from Zan to the small girl, then smiled. "It was well done, Iobeh," he whispered. "Well done indeed."
She met his eyes. Then will you stop feeling such distress, so I can get some sleep?
His smile was lopsided. ''I'll try," he murmured. "Goodnight, 'Tsan," he added as he and Iobeh moved away. Zan smothered a sigh as she watched them go.
***
Far downriver from where the fugitives camped, the call of a night bird woke Captain Khehaddi. She sat up with a curse. It was fully dark; she had never meant them to sleep the day away. "Edevvi!" she shouted, anger sharpening her voice. Her lieutenant sprang to attention from where she had supposedly been standing guard.
"Captain?"
The sound of Edevvi's voice recalled the captain to where they were and the danger surrounding them. She continued in hand-language. Fine guard, you. Didn't think you were green enough to fall asleep at your post.
Nor did I, Captain. It won't happen again.
Indeed not. Khehaddi's expression was grim.
Now what? Do we follow them now?
The captain shook her head. Not enough light for tracking. Set watches who won't fall asleep. We'll spend the rest of the night here.
Edevvi nodded once, then went about her task. She was glad the night was dark enough to hide her blush.
EIGHTEEN
Morning found the two groups of travelers moving away from one another. Ychass led her companions along the Snowsblood, into the rich golden grasslands of the plains, while the Tame Khedathi took the shapeshifter's false trail and were heading across the stony heath to the northeast of the river. Long before the sun had climbed to noon, Ychass called a halt. She showed the others how to rub earth into their white robes, to make them less noticeable, then they made a makeshift camp in the tall grasses.
"I still think we will be wisest to travel at night, as long as the footing is fairly even," Ychass explained. "We'll spend the day here, and travel once dusk falls. In the meantime, perhaps someone can catch us some fish for supper."
Karivet volunteered, and spent the next few hours crouched beside the river, trying to tickle the river dwellers into his hands. He did well, too, catching three good-sized fish. As he cleaned them with his new knife, Ychass started a small fire. She took care with the fuel so there would be little smoke. Karivet watched her preparations until, very pleased with himself, he settled down for a nap.
The day passed quietly. Late in the afternoon, they gathered for a meal of fish stew and journey bread, then stored their gear and set out.
The walking was harder than in the desert. The grass hid the occasional unevenness of the ground, and sometimes the stems tangled up around their feet, trying to trip them. No one actually fell, though, and despite their stumbling, they made reasonably good time. At sunrise they halted.
Days passed uneventfully, and they began to be lulled by the emptiness of the plains. They didn't quite grow careless, but they began to forget why they were being careful. It was clear they had eluded their Khedathi pursuers—Ychass told them that the stony heath stretched for several days' journey before it came to an end near one of the most populated stretches of shapeshifter territory. It was likely the Khedathi would have their hands too full of their own fates to worry about the motley company, no matter how desperately the travelers were wanted in the City.
In all this time, the group's biggest worry was food. Their supplies, though they had been augmented by the Khesst, would not last forever. Since the plains were less harsh than the dry lands, Ychass suggested they try to live off the land. Everyone helped. Karivet and Iobeh caught fish in the river, and Remarr often snared rabbits. Ychass showed them some tubers and a type of reed that stewed up well, and Zan and Vihena grew adept at gathering them.
As the days passed, they began to leave the plains behind them. Now, as the river climbed, they saw occasional trees, the edible reeds became scarce, and the days were cooler.
Their night travel became treacherous; they could only travel when there was enough moonlight to see by, since a false step could have disastrous consequences. They developed a new pattern, starting out before sunset and going until it was fully dark, then resting until moonrise and traveling until moonset; if they could, they traveled a little farther in the cold gray hour before sunrise. This slowed them down, and Ychass chafed at the delay. The only comfort they could hold out to her was that they were able to avoid eating any of their dried supplies, since they had more waking time during the day to seek food.
Near moonset one night, when they were all tired from an arduous stretch of climbing, they reached a place that sent shivers up and down Zan's spine. Off to their right the river hissed and frothed at the bottom of a deep, narrow gorge. The landscape around them was strewn with huge boulders that loomed half buried, like ruined statues. The waning moon played hide-and-seek with scudding clouds, making the boulders' shadows seem particularly deep and mysterious. Zan, walking beside Ychass, hesitated and put out one hand to stop the shapeshifter. Ychass looked at her in the dark, a question in her mind. Vihena joined them, her blade whispering out of its sheath.
"What's wrong?" she breathed.
Zan shrugged her shoulders.
"Uncanny place," Vihena agreed. "Shall I go first?"
Zan forced a smile. "No, I'm just letting my nerves get the better of me. I didn't mean to alarm you."
Vihena stepped back a pace and Ychass met Zan's eyes. Just nerves?
I don't know, Zan admitted. Do you feel it?
Ychass shook her head. Zan stepped into the shadow of the first boulder. A faint sound made her look up. She froze, battling panic. She was practically nose-to-nose with a large feline. It had human eyes. Deep in its throat, a growl began.
What do you want? Zan thought at it fiercely.
Its head jerked back in surprise. Then it growled more loudly. Several other big cats slunk out of the shadows, blocking her path.
We want the renegade, the cat responded, and perhaps your lives as well. You trespass.
We mean you no harm, Zan thought. We are merely passing through your lands on a quest for the gods.
The shapeshifter's thoughts quivered with unpleasant laughter. Indeed. Then undoubtedly your divine patron will stop us from doing as we will. The renegade is ours.
The other shapeshifters knit their thoughts with those of the first. It was an unpleasant sensation, the feeling that their minds were joined into a suffocating whole colored with ugly anticipation, through which Zan's and Ychass's mental voices could not pierce. The cats turned toward Ychass menacingly. You are nameless, renegade—Outcast, rejected, rebuffed. Their thought-voices battered like a strong wind. We denounce you; we deny you; you have no place with us. We make you unchanging, unnamed, unliving. We take your name; we bid your shape; we destroy your being. You are kinless, spiritless, nameless.
Zan saw Ychass's desperate eyes. She grabbed her arm and shook it. You're not nameless, she thought fiercely. You're Ychass. They can't do this to you!
We bid your shape, they repeated. Their united thoughts swamped Zan's mind with malice. She wanted to slam mental gates against them, but she couldn't leave Ychass to face them alone. Hound, they went on inexorably. Hound to grovel and cringe. You who were too proud to obey us will be forced to lick the heels of the City folk.
Under her hand Zan could feel Ychass's form begin to dissolve. No! she flung at them, desperation ringing shrilly in her thought-voice. Her hand gripped Ychass's arm even more tightly, as though her touch could anchor Ychass in her shape. You are not nameless! You gave me your name, Ychass: I give it back. Her thought-voice suddenly gained authority and power. I give you back your name! You are Ychass! YCHASS!
&nb
sp; The shapeshifters' united thought unraveled abruptly into confusion. Thoughts spun in Zan's mind like sparks when a fire has been kicked. Namegiver! one of them thought; half a title, half an accusation. Zan felt the hairs prickle on her forearms. Beside her, Ychass drew herself up.
Go! Ychass told them. You are powerless to harm me—you cannot take my name! Go! I do not need a place with you; I will make a place of my own! I do not need your kinship; I will make ties of my own! You cannot touch my spirit; it is beyond your reach! Go hence!
It would seem we cannot punish you as the law bids, one of the shapeshifters said, but still you trespass.
Zan tried to feign unconcern. I told you: we are questing for the gods.
They changed shape so quickly it was dizzying. For a moment five huge falcons hung on the air. I doubt that will matter to the Temple, but we will tell them. We go. We will return. In a flurry of wings, they departed.
"Well," said Vihena. "What was that all about?"
"They tried to punish me for returning here," Ychass replied. "They tried to make me a hound for the tribute. They failed, and they fled."
"Why didn't they attack us?" Remarr asked. "There were five of them and only six of us. Surely the odds weren't that long."
"'Tsan upset them. She hears thoughts. They were unprepared for that."
The others seemed satisfied, but Zan thought uneasily, There was more to it than that, wasn't there? I wish I understood all that name business.
Still playing innocent? Ychass retorted, cynicism bitter in her thoughts. Don't you think you're overdoing it?
I don't understand, Ychass.
Then you have infallible instincts, 'Tsan. But I'm being ungrateful. Once again I must thank you for my freedom. I gave you my name, but I must admit I never expected you to give it back. I suppose it's overly cynical of me to wonder what else you want from me?
"I don't want anything from you," Zan said softly. "Can't you believe that?"
The shapeshifter shrugged her thin shoulders, but her smile was calculating, and her thoughts said no.
***
Khehaddi had not spent a restful night. She had found it impossible to sleep with one hand chained to the wall and her mind full of questions and worries. She had been separated from the members of her patrol, and she did not have any way of knowing how they were faring. And she kept tormenting herself by wondering whether she had done the right thing when she ordered them to put away their weapons and go peacefully with the shapeshifters. She had gambled all their lives on the chance that the shapeshifters would be reasonable—and none of the tales her people told encouraged her to think it a wise risk. But they had been outnumbered, and truly in the wrong, and she could think of no other action that promised even a slim chance. It had been a long, doubt-filled night, and it was with a feeling akin to relief that she heard footsteps coming toward her cell. One way or the other, the waiting would soon be over.
It was not the guard Khehaddi had expected. Instead, a woman in a plain, undyed caftan put the key to the lock and stepped inside. She was strange to Khehaddi's eyes; her long hair was light brown, her skin was not as fair as a Vematheh's but rather sallow, and her eyes were peculiar, a gray so pale it was almost colorless. She regarded Khehaddi impassively. When she spoke, her voice had a curious sibilant accent, and her words came slowly, as though she were unused to speech.
"So you are the fool who thought to invade our lands with a troop of ten."
"We are not invaders, Lady. We seek fugitives. Their trail led us into your land."
"Fugitives from City justice who survived the dry lands? At least tell a believable lie, Khedatheh."
Khehaddi clenched both fists and fought her temper. This woman did not know it was a death insult to accuse a Khedath of lying; it was not her fault. She exhaled slowly. "I do not tell lies, Lady, good or bad. There was someone from the desert to guide them in the dry lands."
"So. Who are they whom you seek?"
Khehaddi shrugged. "There are six of them. Two children from the forest, a man from the desert, a woman from the City, a stranger, and one of your people."
For the first time an emotion registered on the shapeshifter's face: surprise. "Of my people? Who?"
"I do not know her name," Khehaddi replied. "She was a slave in a City merchant's house."
The woman's breath hissed between her teeth. "So. That one. It is death for her to come here. She knows that, and she is no fool. Why do you believe they came into our lands?"
Khehaddi turned her free hand palm upward. "We followed their tracks. They led across the river and into the stony heath."
The woman was silent. Khehaddi watched her anxiously, but could read nothing in her impassive face.
"Lady, I will make you a promise," Khehaddi said when she could bear the silence no longer. "If you free me and the others of my patrol, we will not rest until they have been taken."
"No," she replied immediately. "We will find them and deal with them ourselves. I will send you and your people back to the dry lands with a warning and a promise. Once we have been lenient and overlooked your trespass. A second time we will rend you all limb from limb, with no questions and no quarter. Do you understand? Will you promise to leave our lands and not return?"
Khehaddi nodded. "I understand. I give you my word we will not return, and I thank you for your graciousness, Lady."
The shapeshifter nodded. "I trust I will not later have cause to regret my leniency." There was threat in the long look she gave Khehaddi. Then she went away without looking back. A few minutes later, the guards came to open Khehaddi's shackle.
NINETEEN
Ohmiden woke with a start, his heart thudding painfully. He was not sure whether he had cried out. The dream had been vivid and terrifying, and what it said of the danger of the twins and their companions he didn't want to consider. If the gods were merciful, Eikoheh would be sleeping, unsuspecting. He eased himself up onto one elbow to see. The weaver's face was level with his own as she stood on the ladder to the loft. She raised an eyebrow.
"I made some tea when you began to dream," she said. "Why don't you come have some while you tell me about it?"
He hardly sighed. Much as he wanted to spare the weaver, he knew she was tougher than he liked to think—and shrewder. He would have to tell her all of it; she would resent any prevarication.
Eikoheh studied him over the rim of her mug. "Well?" she asked at last.
"It's not good," he said heavily. "My dreams are full of people wearing beasts' faces. I fear our friends have strayed into the country of the shapeshifters. I dreamed of a servant of the gods, a woman, who holds much power over them. She has two faces, neither of them kind." He fell silent.
"Two faces?" Eikoheh prompted. "What are they? Animal faces?"
"No," Ohmiden replied, remembering. "She wears a mask and carries another. They are rage and fear. The answer to either is often death."
Eikoheh was silent, pondering. Finally she nodded. "Then I will weave fear for her, deep fear. I will weave her a fear so full of awe that she will not dare to harm them."
The weaver's voice was so strong and certain that Ohmiden looked at her in surprise. "Will that work?" he asked.
The certainty evaporated as Eikoheh hunched a shoulder. "We can only hope."
***
"So," Edevvi said to her captain as they drew rein on the wide heath, "we go home? We leave the Utverassi to deal with our quarry?"
Khehaddi studied her lieutenant, seeing the unease lying behind her words, and shook her head. "I dare not. After all, there is a shapeshifter with them. I know she is Outcast, but so was the minstrel. They might somehow convince the Utverassi to leave them alone."
"But you can't mean to take us back into Utverassi lands," one of the others protested. "You told them—"
"I gave my word." Khehaddi cut him off. Though she smiled, there was bitterness in her tone. "That still has some value. No, we will not pursue the fugitives any farther. Rather, I think
we should wait for them. My guess is that the gods have set them a task to perform. If I'm right, they will have to return to Windsmeet. I suggest we make camp at that small spring we passed—the one nearest the hill. When they return, if they do, we will be ready for them."
"How long will we wait, Captain?" another asked.
She shrugged. "That is not a decision I can make on my own. Tholenn, Fenorreh, once we're out of Utverassi lands, I want you to return to the City and report to Belerann and the Lord. Explain the situation and return with orders. Is that clear?"
The two she had singled out nodded.
"For the rest of us," she added, "this means at least another two weeks, or three, in the dry lands. I trust no one is desperately homesick."
***
For the next few days, the companions traveled during the day. They reasoned that since the shapeshifters knew they were there, they might as well abandon secrecy and take advantage of the sunlight. It wasn't reasonable, Zan reflected, but traveling by day lifted her spirits, and she often found herself humming to herself in the crisp, bright mornings.
The terrain had changed again. They traveled in a wide valley carved by the river, through scattered copses of beech, ash, and birch. In the stretches of meadow they could see the mountains ahead of them: towering peaks brushed with white leaning against the clear sky. They were beautiful, but formidable. Every time Zan caught sight of them, she felt a clench of awe.
The twins enjoyed this leg of the journey; they skipped and danced among the trees, whistling birdcalls to one another in their pleasure to be in places that reminded them of home. Vihena often joined them, learning from them the calls of birds she had never seen. In the evenings Remarr played his harp and sang, and told tales that set them all to laughing—all except Ychass. The shapeshifter had always been aloof, but now she almost never spoke. She watched them with an impassive face, but her thoughts were full of the tag ends of old worries. Even Zan couldn't draw her out. Mention of the Temple had deeply troubled the shapeshifter, Zan gathered, but she was unable to cajole any further information.
Colors in the Dreamweaver's Loom Page 15
