Carillon let her melt against his chest, sobbing quietly. Her fears of suggesting an intimacy she was not due faded away as she sought solace in his strength. His arms slipped around her and held her close, for the first time since they had met.
“You will come with me when I am released,” he said into her tangled hair. “They cannot keep you.”
She lifted her face. “Duncan has said I must stay.”
“I will take you back with me.”
“How do you know they will let you go?”
He smiled wryly. “I am worth too much to my uncle for them to keep me long.”
“And I?”
“You, Alix?”
She wet her lips. “If I am what they say, then I am the Mujhar’s granddaughter. Lindir’s daughter.”
“So you will admit to shapechanger blood if only to get royal blood as well,” he said, amused.
Alix pulled away from him. “No! I only seek acknowledgment…the truth! Carillon, if I am Shaine’s granddaughter—will he not free me from this place?”
“Do you think the Mujhar will acknowledge a half-shapechanger bastard granddaughter?”
She recoiled from the cruel question. “Carillon—”
“You must accustom yourself. If what the shapechangers say is true, we are cousins. But Shaine will never claim you. He will never offer a single coin for your return.” Carillon shook his head. “They are harsh words, I know, but I cannot let you expect something you cannot have.”
She set cold hands against her face. “Then you will leave me here.…”
He caught her arms, pulling her hands from her face. “I will not leave you here! I will take you to Homana-Mujhar, but I cannot say what your reception will be.”
“You would not have to tell him who I am.”
“Do I say you are my light woman, then? A valley-girl I have been seeing?” He sighed as he saw her expression. “Alix, what else would I tell him?”
“The truth.”
“And have him order you slain?”
“He would not!”
His hands tightened on her arms. “The Mujhar has declared the Cheysuli accursed, outlawed, subject to death by anyone’s hands, Do you think he will gainsay his own purge for the daughter of the man who stole his daughter?”
Alix jerked away from him. “She was not stolen! She went willingly! Duncan said—” she broke off abruptly, horrified.
Carillon sighed heavily. “So, you accept their words. With so little a fight, Alix, do you deny your Homanan blood and turn to the shapechangers?”
“No!”
You are Cheysuli, liren, came the hawk’s golden tone. Do not deny yourself the truth. Remain.
Alix ripped the doorflap aside and stared into the sky. Cai drifted far above, floating on a summer breeze.
“I must go!” she cried.
This is your place, liren.
“No!”.
“Alix!” Carillon moved to her and grabbed her arm. “To whom do you speak?”
Homana-Mujhar is not for you, the bird said softly.
“I cannot stay,” she insisted, amazed at her willingness to speak to a bird. “I cannot!”
“Alix!” Carillon exclaimed.
She gestured wildly. “The bird! The hawk! There.”
He dropped her arms instantly, staring at her in alarm. Slowly his eyes went to the graceful hawk.
“Let me go with Carillon,” she pleaded, knowing only that the bird sought to keep her.
I cannot gainsay you, liren. I can only ask.
Alix tore her eyes from the hawk and looked beseechingly at Carillon. Frantically she reached out to catch her hands in his black leather doublet.
“Take me with you. Tell the Mujhar whatever you choose, but do not make me stay in this place!”
“You understand what the bird says?”
“In my head. A voice.” She could sense his shock and sought to convince him. “Not words. A tone…I can understand what he thinks.”
“Alix…”
“You said you would take me,” she whispered.
He put out a hand to point at Cai, ruby signet flashing. “You converse with animals!”
Alix closed her eyes, releasing him. “Then you will leave me.”
“Shapechanger sorcery…” he said slowly.
She looked at him, judging his face and the feelings reflected there. Then his hands grasped her shoulders so hard it hurt.
“You are no different,” he said. “You are still Alix. I look at you and see a strong, proud woman whose soul is near to destroyed by these shapechanger words. Alix, I will still have you by me.”
You are meant for another, the hawk said gently. The prince is not for you. Stay.
“By all the gods,” she whispered, staring blindly at Carillon, “will none of you let me be?”
“Alix!”
But she tore herself from him and ran from them both, seeking escape in the forest.
She fled to a lush grassy glade lying in a splash of sunlight. There Alix sank to her knees and sat stunned, trying to regain control of her disordered mind. She shook convulsively.
Shapechanger! Spawn of a shapechanger demon and a king’s daughter! she cried within her soul.
Alix scrubbed at her stinging eyes with the heels of her hands, fighting back tears. She had never been one for crying, but the tension and fear of the past hours had taken away her natural reserve. She wanted security and solace like a child seeking comfort at a mother’s breast.
Mother! she cried. Was I birthed by a Homanan valley girl, or a haughty, defiant princess?
Alix felt the conflict in her soul. She longed for Carillon’s confidence in her Homanan origins, yet felt the seductive tug of mystery attending the legendary magic of the Cheysuli. And though Torrin had raised her to be fair to all men in her thoughts, even the Cheysuli, he had also instilled in her the apprehension all felt concerning the race.
She heard a rustle in the leaves and glanced up swiftly, frightened Finn had followed her again. She did not entirely trust his intentions, for all he claimed to be her half-brother. Alix sensed something elemental in him; untamed and demanding.
A hawk rested lightly on a swinging branch, feathers ruffling in the breeze. Though its coloring was the same, she realized it was not Cai. This hawk was smaller, more streamlined; a swift hunting hawk able to plummet after small prey and snatch it up instantly.
Alix shivered involuntarily as she thought of the deadly talons curving around the branch.
Have you decided to stay? it asked.
She stared at it, astonished to discover the great distinction between its tone and Cai’s. It regarded her from bright eyes, unmoving on the branch.
Do you stay? it asked again. Or do you go?
Resentful and defiant, Alix started to push the tone away. She would not allow the Cheysuli so to manipulate her mind. She would keep herself apart from them and their sorcery, regardless of the seductiveness of their power.
But even as she decided she felt the fear slip away, replaced by wonder. First she had spoken with a wolf, who seemed perfectly capable of speaking back; then Cai. And now this smaller hawk.
By the gods, the animals are mine to converse with! She took a trembling breath. If this is sorcery, it cannot be demon-sent. It is a true gift.
The hawk regarded her approvingly. Already you begin to learn. The lir-bond is truly magic, but does harm to no one. And you are special, for no other can converse with all the lir. Through you, perhaps, we can win back some of our blood-pride and esteem.
“You lost it through Hale’s selfish action!” she retorted, then winced at her audacity. Carefully she looked at the hawk to see if it was offended.
It seemed amused. For the Cheysuli, aye, it would have been better had he never set eyes on Lindir. But then you would not live.
“And what am I?” she shot back. “Merely a woman a foolish warrior wanted for his own.”
Finn does, occasionally, allow his emotions to ove
rrule his judgment. But it makes him what he is.
“A beast,” she grumbled, picking a stem from the grass.
He is a man. Beasts have more wisdom, better sense and far better manners. Do not liken him to what he cannot emulate.
Alix, startled by the hawk’s wry words, laughed up at him delightedly. “I am sorry he cannot hear you, bird. Perhaps he would reconsider his rash actions.”
Finn reconsiders very little.
She stared at the bird, eyes narrowing shrewdly. The stem she had picked drooped in her fingers. “If you are not Cai, who are you? Show yourself.”
Another time, perhaps, the bird said obliquely. But know I am one who cares.
It detached itself from the swinging branch and flew into the blue sky.
Alix dropped the stem and stared after the fleet bird dispiritedly. For a moment she had felt an uprush of awe and amazement that she conversed with the lir; now she was a frightened and confused girl. Slowly she got to her feet and wandered back to the Cheysuli encampment.
She was startled to find the tents pulled down and rolled into compact bundles. The warriors tied them onto their horses and made certain the fire cairns were broken up and scattered, Alix stood in the center of the naked clearing and realized her soul and self-image had been as neatly swept clean.
Carillon came to her as she stared blindly at the swift alteration of the camp. He touched her hand, then folded it into his much larger one.
“I will be with you,” he said softly. “They have said I must go with them.” He grimaced. “They say I am not yet strong enough for the ride to Mujhara, but they did not lie about the wound. It is near healed, and I feel strong enough to fight any of them.”
She looked at the wrist and saw healing ridges marking the wolf bite. The swelling and seepage was gone, replaced by new skin.
They have healing arts at their beck, she said silently, unconsciously echoing Finn’s words.
“Well, my lord, perhaps it is best,” she said aloud. “I do not seek to lose you so soon.”
“I have said you will come with me to Homana-Mujhar.”
She smiled sadly into his face. “As your light woman?”
Carillon grinned and lifted her hand to brush his lips across her wrist. “If it must be done, Alix, I will not prove unwilling.”
She blushed and tried to withdraw her hand, but he held it firmly. He shook his head slightly and smiled. “I do not seek to discomfit you. I have merely said what is in my mind.”
“I am your cousin.” She did not entirely believe him.
Carillon shrugged, “Cousins often wed in royal houses, to secure the succession. This bond would not be a thing Homanans disapprove of.”
Alix tried to answer. “My lord…”
His brows lifted ironically. “Surely you can dispense with my title if we discuss our futures in this way.”
Alix wanted to laugh at him but could not. She had longed for such thoughts and words from him all through their brief acquaintanceship, though she had never thought them possible. Now she could not comprehend it. The revelation of her ancestry destroyed the roots she had depended on.
“I will wed a princess, one day,” he said lightly, “to get heirs for the throne. But princes have mistresses often enough.”
She heard the echo of Duncan’s voice in her mind, explaining the casual Cheysuli custom of wives and mistresses. An open practice she could not comprehend.
Yet Carillon offers me much the same… She shivered convulsively. Who has the right of it—the Cheysuli or the Homanans?
“Alix?”
She carefully freed her hand from his and met his blue eyes. “I cannot say, Carillon. We are not even free of this place yet.”
He started to say something, but Finn’s approach drove him into silence. Carillon glared at the Cheysuli warrior, who merely laughed mockingly. Then Finn turned to Alix.
“Will you ride with me, rujholla?”
She noted the change of address and felt a mixture of gratitude and resentment. She would acknowledge no blood relationship to him; nor would she accept the sort of physical commitment he wanted from her.
She moved closer to Carillon. “I ride with the prince.”
“And likely have him fall off the horse from in front of you.”
Carillon glared at him. “I will keep to my horse, shapechanger.”
Finn’s earring winked as he laughed. “You had better change your name for us, princeling, or you insult your cousin as well.”
“You seek to do that, not him!” Alix snapped.
He grinned at her, then shot a mocking glance at Carillon. “Have you forgot? You have gained more than just your light woman as a cousin this day. You also have kin among the rest of us.”
“Kin among you?” Carillon asked disparagingly.
“Aye,” Finn said equably. “Myself. She is my rujholla, princeling, though only by half. But it makes you and I cousins, of a sort.” He laughed. “I am kin to Homana’s prince, who would serve his liege lord by slaying us all. But to do that you would have to slay her, would you not?”
Color surged into Carillon’s face. “If I slay any shapechanger, it will be you. I leave the rest to my uncle the Mujhar.”
“Carillon!” Alix said, horrified.
Finn laughed at them both, spreading his hands. “Do you see, princeling? What you say of us concerns her. Beware your intentions, do you seek to keep her safe.”
Carillon’s hand dropped to the heavy sword belted at his hips; Alix was still amazed the Cheysuli had let him keep it. But he did not draw the blade. Finn smiled at them both and walked away, calling to another warrior in the Old Tongue.
“He only seeks to goad you,” Alix said softly. “To satisfy his own craving for a place.”
Carillon glanced at her in surprise. Then he smiled. “Do you prophesy for me, Alix? Can you see into my heart as well as his?”
Inwardly she flinched away from the reference to sorcery, and that at her own command. “No. I only say what I feel in him. As for you…” She hesitated, then smiled. “I think you will be Mujhar, one day.”
He laughed at her and pulled her into his arms, lifting her into the air. “Alix, I thank the gods I rode my warhorse through your garden that day! Else I would not have you sharing such wisdom with me.”
She grinned down at him, delighting in the feelings spilling through her body. His hands on her waist were firm and sure, possessive, betraying no signs of weakness from the wolf-wound. Alix let one hand curve itself around his neck, tangling in his tawny hair.
“And did I not share my wisdom with you when you trampled all my fine young plants?”
He spun her again, then set her down with a rueful grin. “Aye, that you did. You near made me ashamed of my birth.”
Alix laughed at him. “Even a prince can manage to go around a garden when his prey avoids it. I cared little for the fine clothes you wore or the gold you threw at me to pay for the damage.” She lifted her head haughtily, mimicking the actions of a highborn court lady. “I cannot be bought, my lord prince, for all you are heir of Homana.”
“But can you be won?” he asked steadily.
Her smile faded. She averted her face. “If I can be won, it is something left to me to discover. I cannot say.”
“Alix—”
“I cannot say, Carillon.”
Duncan came up before Carillon could speak again. He led a bay horse and carried the oddly compact bow he had polished the evening before. Carillon, looking sharply at it, sucked in his breath.
Duncan frowned at him. “My lord?”
“Your bow.”
The Cheysuli held it up. “This? It is not so much. I have better at the Keep. This is for raiding and hunting, and expendable.”
“But it is still a Cheysuli bow,” Carillon said seriously. “I have heard of them all my life.”
Duncan smiled briefly and held it out. “Here. But keep in mind it is not the best I have made.”
Carillon dis
regarded the modest statement and took the bow almost reverently, fingering his enemy’s weapon. It was finely crafted, age-polished hardwood. The grip was laced with leather to cushion a man’s palm. Odd runic symbols ran from top to bottom, winding around the bow like a serpent.
Carillon looked at Duncan. “You know what is said of a Cheysuli bow.”
Duncan smiled ironically. “That an arrow loosed by one cannot miss. But that is all it is, my lord; a legend.” His eyes narrowed in cynicism. “Though it serves us well. If Shaine’s troops fear a Cheysuli bow, it is all the better for us.”
“Do you say a man can miss with this bow?”
Duncan laughed. “Any arrow can miss its mark. It is only rare for a Cheysuli to loose one with poor aim.” His smile faded into implacability. “It comes from fighting for survival, my lord. When you are hunted down like a beplagued animal by the Mujhar’s guardsmen, you learn to fight back how you can.”
Carillon’s face tautened. “The legend of these bows was known before the purge, shapechanger.”
Duncan’s mouth twisted. “Then let us say the skill was refined by it, prince.”
Carillon thrust out the bow. Duncan took it without comment and looked at Alix. “It is time to go. Will you ride with me?”
Her head lifted. “I told your brother—I ride with the prince.”
Duncan handed the reins of the bay horse to Carillon. “Your warhorse will be returned when you are better, my lord. For now you may have mine.”
Carillon mounted silently. Before Alix could attempt a scrambling mount Duncan lifted her up behind the Cheysuli saddle. She looked down into his impassive eyes and felt a faint tug of familiarity. But he walked away before she could question it.
Finn, mounted on a dun-colored horse, rode up beside them. “Should the princeling falter before you, rujholla, I will be more than happy to take you onto my horse.”
Alix looked directly into his angular, mocking face and said nothing at all, ignoring him as pointedly as she could.
Finn merely grinned and fell into place before them. The journey was begun.
Chapter Six
The long ride took the heart from Alix as she clung to Carillon. She drooped dispiritedly against his broad back, longing for respite from the steady motion of the horse. Whenever Finn rode by she straightened and arranged her face into an expression of determined spirit, but when he left them she returned to her haze of weariness.
The Shapechangers Page 5
