by JANRAE FRANK
Dynarien threw his arms around Willodarus, hugging him tightly. "Thank you, father. Thank you."
"That isn't the only reason I came looking for you. I know she's raiding soul vaults, taking terrible chances as usual. But when Dragonshead fell, I knew I had to find you both. That soul vault predates the Age of Renewal. It's been added to since then, but some of those oldest souls could be dangerous or simply too potent for you to control. I want to sift through the contents with you and take those away."
"I do not see a problem with that," Dynarien said. "What do you think, Talons?"
The assassin stood up and joined them. "I have no problem with it either. We don't want to let loose something that might get out of control and cause harm."
Willodarus smiled at her. "You have not introduced us, Dynarien."
Talons watched as the young god she had written off as an irresponsible rakehell inexplicably blushed.
"Father, meet my partner in crime, Talons Trollbane, joint paladin to Hadjys and Dynanna."
"Oh, so they're doing that again, are they?"
Dynarien's blush deepened three shades. "Talons, meet my father, Willodarus, god of the woodlands and wild creatures."
* * * *
With more than ten thousand souls it quickly became apparent that this would take days, perhaps even weeks, to settle out. Each one had to be carefully Read and examined: no one wanted to release a monster on the world. Talons watched Willodarus create a gate. The first to come through were his sylvans. Talons had never suspected that sylvans came in so many sizes and combinations of colors: the only thing they all shared were the slanted eyes and pointed ears. The first ones through were a band of Night-Elves, glistening black skin with a sapphire hue and the narrowest slanted eyes Talons had ever seen. Their hair was pale, ranging from pure white to cornsilk. Some had strands of brilliant red and black in their hair. She wondered if that was natural or dyed.
The Night-Elves immediately set to putting up a large pavilion and several smaller tents.
Next came a rush of little people through the gate, laughing and hollering, poking each other, dancing and teasing. At first glance Talons thought they were children. The tallest of them was a female who barely stood taller than Talons' waist. They had oversized pointed ears, gaudy clothes, and backpacks. The female wore black clothes, a pointed hat, and carried a twig broom as if it were a staff of office. She came up to Talons, bowed politely, and extended her hand. Talons grasped it out of reflex. She had a strong grip.
"I'm Sugar Maple," the female said. "Paladin supreme of Dynanna. We're the Badree Nym."
A male, almost as tall as Sugar Maple, wearing a leather jacket and strange glass and leather eyepieces perched atop his leather headgear; pie pans hanging from his belt on tiny hooks, joined her. "Remember me? I'm Pieface. I advised you on that troll."
"Yes. I remember you," Talons said.
"We brought your squires with us."
"Squires?" Before Talons had time to consider that Jysy and Arruth swarmed her, taking her down in the grass, laughing, and searching again for the non-existent tickle spots. "Hey! Get off me! Shit."
Sugar Maple bent politely over the tangle of arms and legs. "We'll be putting up yours and Dynanna's tents."
Just then Talons caught sight of what looked like a thin, whimpering vampire being dragged across the grass by five or six happily chattering Badree Nym, one of whom was trying to force a large slice of pie between the vampire's tightly clenched fangs.
"That's it," Talons said. She threw Jysy across the grass into a bush, and then sent Arruth rolling. "Ground rules: No tickling. No tackling. Good manners and behavior. Act like adults! Otherwise I'm taking both of you over my knee and spanking hell out of you!"
Jysy and Arruth brushed themselves off quietly and returned with solemn faces.
"Furthermore, if you're going to tell people you're my squires, then you're going to act like ones."
"Okay," they said in unison.
"If we behave, can we get some goggles?" Jysy asked.
"What's that?"
Jysy made circles with her thumbs and forefingers, putting them to her eyes. "Like Pieface. That's what he calls them."
"If that's your bribe, I'll pay it." Talons pulled some coins from her pouch, placing two silver pieces in each girl's hand.
They backed off, still looking chastened, but when they were far enough away, they stuck out their arms and ran off, crying "Vroom! Vroom!" leaving Talons looking mystified.
What she would learn later was that a very few of the Badree Nym, one of them being Pieface, could worldwalk and brought back strange objects and stranger stories. The two girls were pretending to be something called an aeroplane.
* * * *
Hadjys' entourage came last. Talons sat on the grass, watching them emerge from Willodarus' gate. There was really nothing for her to do: Her presence was demanded as a matter of form, since the original agreement was between herself and Dynarien. She nibbled on a sandwich that Jysy had brought her in a lunch bucket along with a small round of nutty cheese, some fruit she did not recognize and a flask of light, sweet wine. Jysy was taking the squire bit far more seriously than her sister.
Shadow creatures with glowing golden eyes carried boxes through. Talons had no idea what they were. She became aware of someone sitting nearby, just out of reach, eating fruit.
"Those are the Shadonmi," a familiar voice said and as Talons turned to see who spoke, she caught the scent of roses.
"Dynarien."
He waved his hands at her palms outward. "I know. No touching. I just wanted to talk. I like watching them come out."
"Can't object to that."
Dynarien smiled. "The Shadonmi are very strange. They reproduce by budding."
"Really?"
"Yes. They're one of the original inhabitants of our world. Several tiny pockets of near extinct races, which were clinging to life, were saved when the Big Nine arrived. The entire race pledged itself to Hadjys. Many of them serve in his Nine Hells. The shadow hounds are another race that was saved."
"I've seen Brundarad. He runs with my friend Hanadi."
"Hanadi Majios?"
"Uh huh." Talons fell silent for a time, and then said, "This whole thing is turning into a circus."
"It always does. Especially when one of the Nine gets involved."
"Like your father."
"Yeah."
"You sound like you don't like these things."
"That is dead on." He grinned at her. "You want to see my quiet spot? No touching. Just a quiet place to sit."
"Okay."
They walked down the rows of tents busily appearing down the greensward, past some booths where various creatures were offering items and food for sale. They passed a group of Badree Nym dancing around the thin, whimpering vampire. One of them, his black hair slicked back, dressed in a lacy white shirt, a black silk jacket with a wide band around his waist and black pants. When they got closer, Talons saw to her horror that this Badree Nym had long fangs.
"Fangs?"
"Yes. That's Drakengrim. The vampire belongs to him."
"What?"
"Well, it's a long story. That poor vampire thought he was biting into and turning a child. But he'd gotten one of the Nym by mistake. Drakengrim only fangs fruit. But he's been following that vampire around ever since – it's been centuries – shoving pie down his throat at every opportunity. Now the vampire is such a nervous wreck he can't eat anything and blood upsets his ulcers. I suspect that Drakengrim's magic is changing him. All Badree Nym have a poltergeist effect that protects them. But they also have affinities. Transmogrification is Drakengrim's talent."
"This is getting weirder and weirder."
"Tell me about it. But they're Dynanna's folk, not mine. The Nym are very good-hearted, but sometimes their magic and their perception of reality gets out of hand. The vampire has been begging them for centuries to leave him alone. They refuse to believe he really means it and are tryi
ng to teach him to play. The Nym are nearly indestructible and their magic is strong enough to take the top off a mountain. Most of it's unconscious which makes it worse. Sort of 'Oops! Your house just fell down. Oh, but I didn't mean to do it.' That kind of thing."
"You mean the stories aren't exaggerated?"
Dynarien rolled his eyes. "They only scrape the surface. But you can understand now why they and Dynanna are so in love with each other."
"Uh huh. I'm going to be stuck here for a while. So I've got to co-exist with them. Suggestions for handling?"
"Ground rules: don't scare them and don't make them cry. Beyond that it's all luck. Or talent. I don't know. I don't think anyone does. Take your clues from their names. They're really nicknames. Pieface is obsessed with pies, especially apple, the sweeter the better. Some of their names aren't benign. Take that little blue haired one over there. That's Glacier. She works in ice. A rather nasty fishermon read her out one day. Savage and unnecessary. She got to crying so hard ... she was totally broken-hearted ... lost control of her magic and created a glacier which rolled over the fishermon and demolished a nearby goblin village. All without realizing she was doing it."
"I'll be careful with them." Talons thought about that and added, "Dynarien, you're very interesting when you're not trying to seduce me."
"Really?" His whole face brightened.
"Uh huh."
"The Eldari call them ver kinlehlahhan, children of laughter. And they're right. They're really right about that," Dynarien said, earnestly, watching for a smile, flooding her with more trivia.
They reached the edge of the forest on the north end of the greensward. Dynarien moved through the trees like a sylvan, scarcely disturbing anything. They came to a thick tangle of bushes, vines, and ferns. Dynarien dropped to the ground and wiggled through a narrow parting, coming out on the other side. Talons followed him. A river ran there; huge, thick ferns sheltered this spot so they could not be seen from the sides. Dynarien pulled off his boots and sat on the bank, dangling his feet in the water, waving and wriggling them like a kid.
"Now I can tell you secrets," he said. "Move closer."
"No touching."
"I promised, okay?"
"Okay." Talons settled next to him.
"This is strictly because it might help you. But you need to be clever to use it. The Badree Nym do not grow up."
"So?"
"They metamorphose. It only happens if they decide to grow up or if they get so injured they cannot survive."
"I thought you said they were indestructible."
"I said nearly indestructible. They form a chrysalis, cocooning to emerge as adults. Their adult form is very different from their childhood form. So much so that the adults do not admit to ever having been Badree Nym. They're a bit stodgy about this. I think this is changing, but that is how it is. If you figure out what their adult form is and ask for their childhood name, they'll give it to you. Many of the younger adults still harbor fond connections to Dynanna. I think eventually some of them will come back to Dynanna."
"What am I supposed to do with this?"
"Calling them by their childhood name will get you help when you need it."
"And what is their adult form?"
"I can't tell you. It would make father very angry. Now isn't this worth a kiss? Right here?" He patted his cheek.
"Dynarien, I can't."
"Why not? I won't do anything."
"I can't! I can't touch a male like that."
"You're saying can't, not won't."
Talons nodded. "Don't press me, I really don't want to talk about it."
Bi-kyndi killed males with a kiss or any other intimate contact. Normally the Sharani Readers caught the girls with those odd genes and trained them sexually from about age eleven so that they did not accidentally kill someone. Her grandsire found such training objectionable, despite knowing the risks, so Talons had never been trained. She wished she had been, but it was far too late now: fully mature bi-kyndi were simply too dangerous to train.
"Okay. Can we just sit and talk about others things?"
"Of course."
"Did you see the Night-Elves?"
"Yes." Talons thought about their exotic looks, black-sapphire skin and white hair, often with streaks of red and black, deeply slanted eyes.
"My mother is a night-elf."
Talons looked at him closely. "Really? Then why are you so light?"
"Father got Ishla to manipulate the genes so I would look almost the same as I had in my first life. Night-Elves are only found on the continent of Sealandia, mostly in the kingdom of Imralon."
Talons liked listening to him and found his stories interesting to the point of fascination. This time he told her about himself and, considering his usually carefree nature, the story was surprisingly dark. He was Willodarus' grandson in his first life. Melorien Trosdottir had been his betrothed. They were to be married, but Waejonan had wanted her also. He raped and murdered Melorien. Tros and Dynarien pursued him across the nine continents. They nearly caught him, but by then Waejonan had embraced the Hellgod, Bellocar, and become the first sa'necari. Waejonan ambushed them. Tros was slain outright; Dynarien had been killed in the first act of mortgiefan ever committed. Willodarus found them too late: but the surviving fragments of Dynarien's soul had lingered. So Willodarus gathered the pieces into a gem and saw to his rebirth as his son by a Night-Elf, the demi-god Mariko. There had been one unexpected complication: the pieces, too fragile to hold together, split and twins were born. He and Dynanna were two pieces of the same soul. That was how they always knew where the other one was when they needed to find each other.
"I suppose, if the person who carried the Legacy of Waejonan were destroyed by something like a lifemage or the Spiritdancer, Dynanna and I would both have a complete and independent soul."
"And that's where you got the idea of getting these souls directly into rebirth."
"Yes. But it wasn't until about a century ago that Dynanna and I stumbled on the first soul vault. So that's when it really began."
Talons wanted to lean over and kiss him, but held back. It was just too dangerous.
* * * *
Dynarien sat morosely in his tent. It was a small tent; just room enough for a simple bed and a chest of clothes. He did everything for himself, refusing to have any of his catkins brought through to help him. It was his way of protesting the extravagance around him. He had stopped going out except to eat or when someone insisted on his presence. He only brightened up when Talons came by. Then they would walk about and talk. Sometimes they went to his quiet spot and sat together. He passed the three weeks it took to sort out the souls in this wise. On the last day, as everyone was packing up, Willodarus came to see him.
"What is wrong? I brought many lovely sylvans to delight you and you stayed in here?"
Dynarien sighed and shook his head, staring at his hands.
"Grandson, if I can help you I will. What is wrong?"
"I finally met a woman..."
"That you really like?"
"Love, father. Love. I think I'm in love."
Willodarus sat down on the chest of clothes and leaned closer to Dynarien. It had been four millennia since Dynarien's beloved Melorien was slain by Waejonan. In all that time Dynarien had had many lovers, but never claimed to be in love. "What is the problem?"
"She can't touch me."
"Can't?"
"Can't."
"Did she say why?"
Dynarien shook his head.
"Who is she?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"If you should change your mind–"
"I know."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MERISSA
Isranon had built a fire in a pit circled with rocks in the center of the cave and a bed of straw covered by a wealth of quilts and animal skins. Olin and Nevin nested with him, but they left whenever Merissa came to visit, which was frequently. He lay on the bed, cuddling with he
r.
It would be so easy to love you, he thought, and retreated from it into the castle of his silence before he could say it.
She sensed his retreat. "Like the wild cousins, Isranon. Nothing more. I'm not asking for anything more. And then let me feed you."
Love was not meant for such as I. Yet he took her face in his hands and kissed her.
* * * *
Merissa came downstairs dressed for riding and settled at the breakfast table. She put one bite in her mouth of the eggs Aisha had prepared and got an odd look on her face. She pushed her food around desultorily and finally stopped eating after a few bites. Merissa felt a trifle dizzy and nauseated, but was determined to ride out to the cave again to see Isranon. He had begun talking about going off to join his prince again. Each time he left to ride with his prince could be the last time she ever saw him. Until now she had always assumed he would come back. Seeing him nearly die had sobered her.
Aisha noted this change and came to her. "Are you ill? You're flushed." Aisha put a hand to her daughter's forehead and then her lips to be certain. "No fever. What is wrong with you?"
"Mother ... nothing. I'm just feeling a little off."
"Well, you're not taking off for those caves until the healer has Read you."
"Mother!"
"Upstairs," Aisha growled.
Merissa threw down her napkin and fled to her rooms. She sat down in an old rocker and drew her feet up under her, pressing her arms across her stomach. "I'm not ill," she said crossly when Aisha and old Baroucha arrived.
Baroucha moved to take Merissa's wrist to Read her body and then shook her head. "I don't need to Read her to see it in her face."
Aisha cast the healer a sharp glance. "What?"
Baroucha threw a sharp glance at Merissa. "You're pregnant, aren't you girl?"
Merissa's face filled with misery. "Yes."
Aisha's expression mirrored the war going on inside her. "Whose is it?"
Merissa dropped her gaze. "Isranon's."
Aisha's face softened. "You know that no lycan of good lineage will have you, knowing you are carrying a sa'necari cub."
Merissa winced. "I don't care. I won't marry them."
Baroucha growled at that. "Even for a princess ... a cub out of wedlock is an ugly matter. I could give you something to lose it."
