by Eileen Wilks
Great. "We have problems with that type back home, too. A lot of them live in the Mideast, but some—oh, never mind. I'm so tired my brain's derailing. The main thing I want to know is, what is ashwa?"
Daniel's eyebrows lifted. "Where did you hear that word?"
"I heard it, that's all. What does it mean?"
His gaze flicked quickly to Steve and back. He didn't answer. Just then Gan came hurrying up. "I'm ready to play poker. I want my chocolate, too. Maybe I could have two chocolates this time. I really need two chocolates."
Cynna pulled her bag over. "Tell you what. I'll give you two chocolates if you'll go play poker with Steve up near the horses. I want to talk with my father by myself for a little while." She looked at Steve. "Okay with you?"
Steve shrugged. "I guess."
Once the other two had left, Cynna looked at her father. She didn't say anything. Just raised her eyebrows and waited.
For a minute she didn't think he'd answer. That anger was in his eyes again, the anger she'd glimpsed once before. Finally he nodded once. "You might as well know. Ashwa is the agreement signed by the five major power groups in Edge that Gifted humans are to be sterilized."
"What?"
"Hush!"
She lowered her voice. "It seemed strange I never encountered any Gifted humans, but I thought it might be something about Edge itself. I never dreamed…"
"They're afraid of us." The bitter twist to his mouth might have been a smile. "Not without reason, I suppose. Look at what's happened on Earth, where humans have had free rein. The other races have mostly died or been driven out."
"Because the magic died! God, are they just ignoring that? We've been cut off from the other realms, but surely they know about ambient magic being real low until the power winds changed things."
Daniel shrugged. "I'm telling you what everyone here knows—or thinks they know. Humans tend to take over by virtue of numbers. We're the most fertile of the races, and if they didn't take steps to keep our population down, we'd outbreed them all. If Edge were part of Faerie rather than being autonomous—"
"Wait, wait. You mean Edge isn't part of Faerie? It's high magic, and sidhe live here."
"To be part of Faerie, a realm must belong to the two queens, Winter and Summer. The queens don't govern their realms directly, but they have some essential laws—they're called, jointly, queens' law—that are binding on all those in their realms. Edge was given to the gnomes. Queens' law doesn't apply here."
"And what does queens' law have to say about humans?"
"It's not what it says. It… parts of queens' law are actual laws the way we think of them. Written rules. There aren't many. There's one about death magic, for example. It's utterly forbidden. But other parts of queens' law are, well, more like natural laws that are imposed on the realms by the queens."
Cynna was beyond skeptical, but kept her voice polite. "They can impose natural laws on several realms?"
"Sounds godlike, doesn't it? I have to say, when I first came here, I thought that's what the queens were—not actual gods, but a religious mythos used to explain the way things worked. I was pretty damned superior then." He shook his head, rueful. "Didn't I have the answers these backward souls lacked? But the queens are real, sweetheart, and they're not gods, however they may seem to mortals like us."
She knew someone like that. Sort of. The lupi's Lady, the one who'd created them and who they insisted they didn't worship. They just did what she said on the very rare occasions she deigned to speak to them through their Rhejes.
For a moment Cynna remembered a voice, the voice, the one she'd heard in a church one night… "They don't, uh… I mean, these queens haven't created any races, have they?"
"No!" Daniel was startled. "No, as I said, they aren't deities. They're High Sidhe, which means they're both immortal and extremely powerful, but they can't create life. Except in the sense all beings do, I suppose."
Cynna dragged her mind back on topic. "And these queens have imposed a natural law on their realms that affects human fertility?"
"It affects all fertility, I'm told, but the ones most affected are humans. If the population of any race in any of their realms grows too large, they stop having babies for a time."
"Jesus."
He nodded. "Here, lacking queen's law, the other races came up with a different way of limiting our numbers. In high magic realms, those with magic are more fertile than those without it. By sterilizing all humans born with Gifts, they limit our overall fertility."
"Everyone knows this, right? It isn't some deep, dark secret, but they tried to keep it secret from us. From those of us from Earth, I mean."
"Were you likely to trust them, help them, if you knew about ashwa?"
"Hell, no." Not then, anyway. But she'd seen more of this world. Specifically, she'd seen the Ahk up close and personal. Cynna chewed on her lip. "You work for the gnomes. You wanted me to Find the medallion for them."
Daniel sighed. "The gnomes enjoy deceit. They prize a good lie, but they are basically fair. They say the medallion will cause havoc in other hands, changes no one can predict, changes that might devastate the people here. I think that's probably true. They're also the least likely to instigate a war over the bloody thing. They can fight, don't get me wrong. But the Harazeed gnomes remember the Great War too well. They'll go to great lengths to avoid open conflict."
She considered that and several other things in silence, rubbing idly at her stomach.
Cynna couldn't feel any change there yet. No pooch. She hadn't had morning sickness or noticed any other physical sign of the little rider's presence. And yet, the baby was becoming real to her. Still mostly a future reality, a matter of looking forward and thinking things would go a certain way and there would be a baby.
Her baby. Hers and Cullen's.
She looked up. "Dad?"
Daniel's breath caught. His smile wobbled. "Yes, sweetheart?"
"Cullen said you had a bit of a Gift. A charisma Gift."
His face went through so many emotions she couldn't sort them all. "Yes. Yes, I know about ashwa personally. That's what you're asking, isn't it? You're the only child I'll ever have."
"Did the gnomes do it?"
He gave a single nod.
Cynna dragged in a huge breath and let it out slowly.
He'd been sterilized by the gnomes, and he still thought they were the best bet to hold the medallion. "I need to think things over."
Tentatively he reached out and touched her hand. "You need some sleep, too."
She found a smile. "Of course."
But her mind, slippery thing that it was, didn't help her line up plans for escape or locate any previously overlooked options. As soon as she lay down, she was too tired to think at all… almost too tired. Because one thought did intrude just before sleep dragged her down.
Those with magic were more fertile in high magic realms.
Earth was becoming higher magic… not as high as Edge, certainly, but more than it had been for about three thousand years.
Cullen had gotten her pregnant right after the power winds blew.
Maybe the lupi wouldn't have such a big problem with fertility anymore.
Oh, my. She really hoped she saw Lily again, so she could tell her. Or warn her.
* * *
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
They were better than halfway down the mountain the next day when the mountain moved.
Cynna had been through an earthquake before. She'd even been outside when it hit—in a forest, of all things. A forest in California, part of a national park, where she'd been hunting a missing twelve-year-old. It was been a small quake, but still pretty spooky.
She hadn't been on horseback, though. Horses do not like earthquakes.
They were spread out when it happened, headed across a tilted cup of land with a fairly shallow grade. Trees surrounded the cupped meadow—mostly evergreens, but a few stubborn oaks, too, their winter-brown leaves still clinging to thei
r limbs. It was probably pretty here in the Day Season. Beneath the thin snow cover was lots of dead grass.
Grass and snow, with dirt beneath rather than rock—it could have been a lot worse.
The moment the land started to dance, so did Cynna's horse. The screams didn't help. Those big, bad Ahk warriors were yelling like crazy. Cynna had a few moments to think she was doing okay, staying on her frantic horse in spite of everything. Then the animal reared.
She lost the stirrups, felt her butt leave the saddle, and grabbed—but there was no pommel on the saddle, and the fistful of mane she did seize slipped right through the stupid mitten. She ended up on her back with the breath knocked out of her.
By then the ground had stopped moving. She lay flat, caught in the wide-eyed terror of a spasming diaphragm. She could not inhale. Endless seconds later Steve's face hovered over her. "You okay? Cynna! Hey, you okay?"
Suddenly she sucked in a huge gulp of air. Blew it out. Did it again. Oh, air was sweet. "Yes, I'm… breath was knocked out. I don't think anything else… hey, no groping." Steve was running his hands up one of her legs and down the other. She managed to push up on one elbow and grin. "You'll give me ideas."
"You're all right?"
That was Daniel, who'd also dismounted. He knelt beside her as he spoke.
"Fine. That damned horse…" A weird keening got her attention. She sat up the rest of the way, staring. "I'm not so sure about them."
About half the Ahk were prostrated on the ground, their voices rising in an eerie ululation. Some of the horses liked that about as much as Cynna did—they were shying away.
Some horses were just plain gone, she realized. Including hers. "I guess they aren't used to earthquakes here."
Chulak hadn't dismounted. He bellowed something the charm didn't translate, then more words that it did: "This is not the displeasure of Hrvash! The mountain trembles because some fool has the medallion, a fool who does not know how to use it—or who uses it against us!"
The keening faltered. Stopped. A couple of the prostrate Ahk sprang to their feet and waved their fists in the air, yelling things about killing those who attacked them.
The others liked that theme, adding to it that "they" had offended Hvrash by attacking his holy mountain.
The mountain was holy? Someone should have told her. Maybe she wouldn't have cursed it so often. Cynna pushed to her feet, looked around for Gan. The little not-quite-gnome had been riding double with one of the Ahk, as usual. "You think the earthquake was caused by the medallion being in the wrong hands?"
Daniel grimaced. "I hate to agree with Chulak about anything, but it's possible. These mountains are supposed to be geologically stable."
Steve spoke slowly. "The Council thought the flood in that place—what was the name?—was caused by the disruption the medallion is experiencing."
"Experiencing? More like causing." Cynna frowned. She didn't see a small, orange body anywhere, either moving or still. "Where's Gan?"
"Some of the horses spooked, ran off ahead," Steve said. His own horse was placidly nudging the snow aside, hunting for grass to crop. "Her rider must have lost control of his mount."
"We'd better look for her. For my stupid horse, too." Cynna set off, limping slightly. Her hip hurt. She hadn't noticed that until she started moving. More liniment tonight.
Chulak assumed they were trying to escape. On foot. At a slow walk.
She glared up at him on his horse. They were surrounded by seven of the mounted Ahk. "Idiot. We're looking for Gan. For my horse, too, and I think you've got a few of those missing yourself. We'll be sure and let you know if we see them."
Ahk were so armored by their own superiority that they scarcely noticed insults—at least Chulak didn't. The big leader gave orders and his minions snapped to obey, trotting their horses toward the downhill exit from the little meadow. Rock and earth humped up at that end, with a single opening. Runaway horses would react like anyone in a panic, Cynna supposed, taking the easiest route—downhill, not up, and through an opening rather than clambering up the sides of the rocky hummock.
As soon as the horses and their riders moved out of her way, Cynna started walking again. So did Steve and, after a moment, her father, the two men leading their horses. Chulak stared at them with that massive indifference Cynna hated. He didn't bother to stop them.
"Guess someone gave him a clue," she muttered.
"You like to push it, don't you?" Steve said.
"Sometimes." When she was pissed all the way down. Like now. Why now, rather than at any one of a number of moments in the last days—or weeks—she couldn't say. She just knew she'd had enough.
Not that it changed anything.
She heard some of the Ahk calling out up ahead, but they were on the other side of the rocky hummock, which kept the charm from working, so she didn't know what they said. They sounded cheerful, not upset.
A few feet beyond the opening in the hummock the trail veered left, running between masses of trees. She hurried along it. Up ahead a bunch of horses blocked the path. She heard rocks falling. Laughter. A screech—Gan's voice. That had to be Gan. No one else was nearly that high-pitched.
Cynna lurched into an awkward run, her hip making her slow. Steve shot ahead of her.
More voices, and this time the charm worked: "Catch this one, then, little one!"
Gan screamed.
"Arkhar, you missed! Such a bad shot you are—she can't catch them unless they come much closer!"
"Try it with a bigger one, Sithell. Maybe she can catch a bigger rock."
Steve shoved his way past the horses. "God damn you!" he yelled. "Stop it!"
Cynna squeezed between big, smelly horse bodies, getting switched in the face by one animal's tail, and came out in a wide spot in the trail. Or what used to be the trail.
Five Ahk were gathered at a drop-off where there should have been more trail. After ten or twelve feet of hole-in-the-ground, the trail resumed. A lone Ahk stood on the other side with his horse, running his hands over one of the animal's back legs.
On this side, one of the Ahk stood at the edge holding a rock the size of his head in both hands.
Steve stood beside him, quivering with anger. He didn't seem to be aware that the Ahk was two feet taller and a hundred pounds heavier than him. "I said put it down, motherfucker!"
The Ahk didn't have a charm to translate Steve's words, but he had a pretty good idea what the human was saying. That was obvious from the way he sneered when he spoke.
Cynna's charm said, "Maybe you want to catch it this time? But we didn't ask you to play, human." And he dropped the rock over the edge.
Gan screeched again, an ear-splitting howl that mixed with the sound of the rock crashing down and down and down.
"Chulak!" Cynna screamed "Get your ass over here! They're killing one of your hostages!"
Steve wasn't waiting on Chulak to sort things out. His fist shot out in a punch to the gut that startled the big rock-dropping warrior more than hurt him. The others started laughing even as Steve rammed his shoulder into the Ahk's belly, twisting his body—and shoving.
The Ahk teetered on the edge. And started to fall.
One gray hand shot out and seized Steve's arm. Steve threw himself back, pulling them both away from the edge before he was dragged to the ground. The big Ahk swarmed over him, teeth and tusks bared in a snarl made for nightmares.
He went for Steve's throat with those tusks.
Cynna's boot landed on his temple. Hard.
She hadn't been positioned right, so the kick wrecked her balance. She fell against another big, gray body. Two huge hands seized her arms, holding her upright. The Ahk she'd kicked shook his head once, as if puzzled. Then collapsed.
The one holding her spoke thoughtfully. Her charm said, "Good kick."
"Steve Timms?" Gan's voice rose from the hole, thin with fear. "Cynna Weaver? Are you killed?"
"Not yet," Cynna called back. She jerked away from the Ahk holding
her, moved to the edge, and peered down.
Some kind of sinkhole, she thought. But it was dark down there. She couldn't see a thing, not even a bright orange thing, so she sent her mage light down.
"Cynna," Steve said, his voice muffled, "when you get a chance, I could use some help getting this asshole off me."
"I'll do it," Daniel said. He sounded out of breath.
"You okay, Steve?" Cynna's mage light drifted down, and at last she saw Gan.
"Fine. Sure, I'm fine."
The hole was round. Was that normal for sinkholes? The sides were almost smooth, almost vertical. Impossible to climb. Cynna couldn't see the bottom. She did see the tree that, collapsing when the earth beneath it suddenly vanished, had wedged itself across the hole about twenty feet down. Gan clung to one of its branches.
Those miserable assholes had been chucking rocks at her. Big rocks. Even if they didn't hit her, they could have dislodged the tree.
Chulak's distinctive rumble made her turn. He still sat his horse, staring down at his men. Her charm whispered, "Sithell. Report."
The one who obliged with a terse account was short for an Ahk and built like a tank. The Ahk carrying Gan had, as they thought, lost control of his horse. The animal had been running flat out, with no chance of stopping when he saw the sinkhole. They'd jumped it—but the rider lost his grip on Gan. When the others arrived, they'd been so relieved that the horse took no hurt that they'd felt playful.
Chulak did not. "Which of you leathin thought I did not need so many hostages?" He paused. "Did one of you—any one of you—think at all?"
Sithell spoke respectfully. "It seemed the mountain had decided to swallow the orange one. We did not wish to argue with Hvrash's mate."
