The Shapechangers

by Jennifer Roberson

  The Solindish soldier made no move against Duncan. He stood braced, ready to fight, yet did not step in against his shapechanger enemy. Alix saw the Ihlini come out of his crouch and realized the Solindish man acted only as a decoy.

  Her cry of warning was lost in the Solindish soldier’s shout. Alix spun and set the baby down in the darkness near a wall, dragging the knife from her boot. Then she pushed herself free of the wall and ran toward the Ihlini.

  She saw Duncan stiffen spasmodically as the sorcerer snaked a gleaming wire around his throat. Both hands flew to the wire and clawed at it, seeking to rip it away. But the Ihlini stood unmoving, slowly tautening the thin garrote until blood broke from Duncan’s throat.

  “No!” Alix shrieked.

  The Solindish soldier stared past the Ihlini and his prisoner in alarm. His sword shifted, rising, and she realized he would move to stop her.

  But she could not hesitate. Her fear had been replaced by the overwhelming need to strike down the Ihlini who threatened Duncan. Her veneer of civilization and gentle ways was stripped from her easily, leaving her naked before all men, and she knew herself as capable of slaying a man as any warrior.

  Duncan’s knees buckled. The Ihlini stood firm, bending slightly as he tautened the garrote even further. Alix was oddly aware of the flash of the Solindish sword as she stumbled to a halt behind the sorcerer. But it did not matter. She lifted the knife, clutching it in both hands, and brought it down with all her strength.

  The shock ran through her arms as she drove the knife through leathers and into the flesh of the Ihlini. She felt him stiffen spasmodically, crying out. One gloved hand clawed briefly at his back, fingers stretching and scraping, then it dropped slackly at his side. The sorcerer sagged over Duncan and fell into the street.

  Alix heard the soldier swear a violent oath, unable to decipher his words. She saw the malevolent gleam in his eyes as he lifted the sword over one shoulder, preparing to unleash the killing stroke. Somehow, she was unafraid.

  “By the gods!” cried a clear voice, “you will not!”

  Dimly she heard the clatter of hoof on stone and saw the horse rearing behind the soldier. Before the Solindish man could turn, a flashing sword swung through the air in a swift arc and severed head from shoulders.

  Alix staggered back, gagging, as blood sprayed from the falling trunk. It splattered over her face and clothing, staining her hands as she raised them to cover her eyes. Then she peered through her fingers into the blazing blue eyes of the prince of Homana.

  Instantly she forgot Carillon. She stumbled forward, reaching frenziedly toward the sprawled bodies. Blood ran through the cobbles, muddying the ash and dust, but she ignored it all as she clawed at the Ihlini’s still form.

  Alix tugged ineffectually at the heavy body until Carillon flung himself from his horse and helped her, dragging the slain sorcerer free of Duncan.

  “No!” she cried, falling to her knees. “No!”

  The wire, she saw, had fallen partially free of Duncan’s throat. It had bitten deeply but had not yet sliced into the vulnerable windpipe. Carefully she pulled the wire away and threw it into the street, moaning as she saw the livid discoloring as blood stained his neck.

  “He is alive, Alix,” Carillon said, kneeling over the warrior. “Alive.”

  She put gentle fingers to his bloodied throat, feeling the erratic pulse-beat. Carefully she cradled his head in her lap, fighting back the rush of bile into her throat as she realized how close he had come to death.

  Duncan’s hand twitched and moved instinctively to the empty sheath at his belt. Carillon reached out and stopped the searching hand.

  “No,” he said clearly. “We are not your enemy.”

  “Duncan!” she cried. “Duncan…”

  His eyes opened and blinked. For a moment he said nothing, lying limply against her lap, then bolted upright into a sitting position. Carillon moved back, squatting, and Alix hastily wiped tears off her cheeks. Duncan, in all his Cheysuli pride, would not want to see her cry.

  Duncan looked silently at the body of the Solindish soldier. Then his eyes traveled to the felled Ihlini, lying so close. After a moment he put bloodstained fingers to his throat.

  He looked directly at Carillon. “Tell me I did not hear her,” he rasped. “Tell me I somehow imagined she was here.”

  Carillon began to smile. His eyes slid past Duncan to Alix, and his smile became a grin. Then he shook his head.

  “I will not lie to you, shapechanger. You have only to look.”

  Duncan winced and turned his head. Alix swallowed welling tears away as she saw the sliced welt rising on his throat, still weeping blood. But Duncan ignored it as he looked at her in dismay.

  “Alix…”

  She bit her lip in response to the ragged sound of his voice. Then she shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably.

  “I am sorry, Duncan, that you are burdened with such a disobedient woman. I am not at all the proper sort for a clan leader’s cheysula.”

  She saw his eyes travel over her blood-smeared face to the dark stains on her ragged shirt. One hand reached out and touched her arm, tracing the sticky flesh. Then he drew up his legs into a cross-legged position and sat there. Silent.

  “Duncan—” she began tentatively, then broke off as she recalled the infant. She jumped to her feet and ran, ignoring Carillon’s startled question.

  Alix knelt by the jerkin-wrapped child and smiled, gathering it up carefully. “There is someone you should meet, small one,” she whispered. “Someone very special.”

  She half-rose, cradling the child against her chest. Then something stopped her, cutting through her happiness like a scythe.

  The child was cold, too cold. He made no sound as her hand gently touched his face. Carefully Alix knelt back on the cobbles and fought down the sudden painful fear as she slid a hand beneath the jerkin and felt his body.

  Horror came slowly. Then the pain. “No!” she cried. “Not the child!”

  He lay unmoving, unbreathing. Alix shuddered over him, rubbing hands against his cold flesh as if her warmth would bring him back to life. She heard footsteps behind her and the clank of a sword sliding home in its sheath.

  “Alix,” said Duncan’s hoarse voice.

  She shook her head violently in denial, still rubbing the child’s cold flesh.

  Duncan’s hand was on her shoulder, pulling her away gently. “There is nothing to be done, cheysula.”

  She jerked away and knelt over the child. “He is mine. Mine! I will not let him die.”

  Duncan pulled her away. Dimly she saw Carillon kneel by the infant and touch a hand to its chest. Then he glanced up at Duncan and shook his head.

  “He is mine,” she repeated.

  “No,” Duncan said hoarsely. He put his hand against her stomach. “Here is our child.”

  She stared into his face. “I only put him down for a moment. You needed my help. The Ihlini would have slain you. So I put him down to go to you.” Her eyes closed. “Why did the gods make me choose between you?”

  Duncan sighed. “Do not torture yourself like this, Alix. It does no good.”

  “It was only a child!”

  “I know, small one. But he was more fortunate than most. He did not know what he faced, before it claimed him.” Something crept through his eyes and she saw the vestiges of remembered horror. “He did not know what it was to look into the eyes of death so close.”

  Alix shivered and pressed herself against him. “Duncan, I could not bear to lose you. I could not bear it.”

  “Well, you have made certain I will live a little longer.” He smiled crookedly at her and traced the bloodstains on her nose. “I have taken myself a warrior instead of a woman.”

  Carillon’s boots scraped against the cobbles. Alix looked at him and saw the weariness and determination in his face.

  He gestured toward the red walls rising in the near distance. “Homana-Mujhar, my friends. It waits for us.”

  Du
ncan nodded. Alix slipped from his arms, cast one more longing glance at the jerkin-wrapped bundle in the corner, then turned from it resolutely.

  But the pain remained.

  Chapter Three

  They found shelter in the shadows of the high walls, avoiding the Solindish soldiers who gathered in the torchlight spilling from sconces set into the red brick. Cai perched himself in a nearby tree, for the proximity of Ihlini kept him from conversing with Duncan, and even Alix felt the weakness in her mind. She did not wish to expend energy she might need later, so she kept herself from conversing with the hawk.

  Duncan leaned one shoulder against the cool walls and looked at Carillon. “We need a way in, my lord. As normal men. I have no recourse to lir-shape here.”

  Carillon’s hand idly caressed the hilt of his massive sword. “There is a way. I played here as a child, and I know all the secrets of this place. I am only glad the Solindish do not.”

  “Alone?” Alix whispered.

  Duncan shook his head and felt gently at his bruised throat. “If you can, Alix, summon the lir. They will bring the warriors.”

  Apprehension flared in her. “But you said I should not use what power I have. Because of the child—”

  “We have no choice. If we are to succeed, we must get to Shaine.” His hand engulfed and pressed her shoulder. “Cheysula, I would not ask it otherwise.”

  She nodded and leaned back against the wall, detaching herself from immediate awareness. She no longer felt Duncan’s hand on her, or heard Carillon’s startled question. She was aware only of the heaviness in the air and the great effort it took to reach the lir.

  At last she felt Storr’s familiar pattern questioning her. Alix smiled weakly and told him to bring his lir, and the others. His acquiescence came just as her strength failed her.

  Alix sagged limply against the wall and felt Duncan catch her. He swore something in the Old Tongue that broke halfway through his exclamation and set her upright, pressing her against the wall. She heard Carillon’s sharp question, but Duncan made no answer. At last she dragged her eyes open and looked into their faces, seeing their mutual fear.

  Alix managed a faint smile. “They come. The lir, and their warriors.”

  “I am sorry…” Duncan rasped uneasily.

  She shook her head. “It—it was only that they are so far. I will be well enough in a moment.”

  Carillon flicked a dark glance at Duncan. “I would not use her so, shapechanger.”

  Duncan’s face hardened. “It is for your sake I asked it, princeling.”

  Alix put a hand up and pushed herself away from the wall, straightening her tired shoulders. “Enough of this. If you wish Homana reconciled with her Cheysuli forebears, you will have to begin with yourselves.” She glared at them. “Yourselves!”

  Carillon looked guilty. Duncan, mouth twisting in Finn’s ironic manner, nodded to himself.

  Alix sighed and rubbed wearily at an eye. “I think they come. Here is Storr.”

  The silver wolf came out of the shadows silently, feral eyes gleaming in the darkness. With him came Finn, who had a wide smear of blood across his jerkin and a victorious glint in his eye.

  “You wanted me, meijha?”

  “Duncan wanted you. And the others.”

  Finn glanced at his brother, then frowned. He stepped close and examined the bloody slice in Duncan’s throat. After a moment he stepped back and raised his brows.

  “Did you tangle, somehow, with an Atvian bowstring instead of an arrow?”

  Duncan smiled. “An Ihlini garrote, rujho.”

  Finn grunted. “They are ever troublesome. We should teach the Ihlini something, someday” His eyes belied the irony in his tone. “Rujho… you are not badly hurt?”

  Duncan shrugged. “I am well enough. Growing voiceless, perhaps, but you may prefer me that way.”

  Finn’s teeth flashed. “Aye, rujho, I believe I may.”

  The others had gathered. Alix saw not a single warrior was missing. She wondered, in remembered horror, how many men lay dead at shapechanger hands.

  “We will go in,” Duncan said in his broken voice. “We will go in and give what aid we can to Shaine the Mujhar.”

  “How?” demanded Finn. “We cannot seek lir-shape so close to the Ihlini. And we can hardly scale the walls without being seen.”

  Duncan gestured to Carillon. “The prince has said he can get us in.”

  Finn’s face expressed doubt. No one else moved, but Alix sensed their unspoken disbelief. Then Carillon shifted against the wall and stood upright.

  “You have little enough reason to trust me. It would be a simple matter for me to let you in and lead you into a trap of the Mujhar’s making.” He smiled grimly. “While I have not precisely been your enemy, neither have I been your ally.”

  “I think we are in agreement for the first time, princeling,” Finn said in careful condescension.

  Carillon, to Alix’s surprise, appeared unoffended. He smiled calmly at Finn. “You need my aid, shapechanger. Mine.”

  Finn grunted. “I need nothing of yours.”

  Carillon turned to Duncan. “I will get in, and then I will open one of the smaller gates. I leave it to you to rid yourselves of the Solindish guards.” He gestured toward the darkness. “It is but a short distance that way. I will meet you.”

  He faded into the shadows. Finn spat out a curse between his teeth and looked as if he had swallowed something sour.

  Duncan observed him impassively. “I trust him, Finn. He will do as he says.”

  “He is Homanan.”

  “They are not our enemy.”

  Finn’s eyes narrowed. “Then what of the qu’mahlin?”

  “It was begun by a single man, not by a nation. It can also be ended by a single man.” Duncan sighed and felt at his tender throat. “Shaine began it. Carillon, I think, is the man who will end it.”

  “Do not speak so much,” Alix admonished him, then shot Finn a scathing glance. “Carillon expects us, rujholli. Should we not go where he said?”

  He grinned at her and gestured with a flourish in the direction Carillon had indicated. When she did not move he shook his head reprovingly and went into the darkness. The others followed.

  Alix turned away as the Cheysuli slew the Solindish guards. Her flesh crawled as she remembered the sensations in her when she had plunged her knife into the Ihlini’s back. She would have run from the renewed violence had Duncan not kept her by him.

  As the last man died, the narrow gate swung open. Carillon stepped through. His leather-and-mail dripped with water, pooling at his feet. His hair was plastered darkly against his head, but his smile was subtly triumphant as he gestured.

  “There is a culvert few know about. Now, through here, if you please. And you are well come to Homana-Mujhar.”

  He led them into a small bailey, avoiding the larger one which opened onto the front of the massive palace. He paused as Duncan whispered to him, and waited as the clan-leader turned to his warriors.

  “It would be better to go in separately, should the Mujhar send men against us. Slay only if you must, for these men are not truly our enemies. When you can, make your way to the Great Hall.” He smiled at Carillon’s involuntary start of surprise. “Have you forgot, my lord, that Hale was my foster-father? I was here as a small child. I know this place.” He looked up at the dark bulk of stone. “A long time ago, I walked the halls and corridors with impunity. Shaine once called me by name and bade me serve him as well as Hale did.” His mouth tightened. “A very long time ago.”

  Finn stepped between them. “But I was never here, princeling. I was left at the Keep. You may serve as my guide.”

  Carillon turned away and moved toward the palace. The others melted away. Alix walked at Duncan’s side as they followed Carillon and Finn into the castle.

  They went unaccosted, though the servants and guardsmen within the halls grew red-faced or frightened as they saw the Cheysuli. Only Carillon’s presence kept the
guardsmen from moving against them, and Alix saw that Finn marked it. She wondered if it made a difference to him.

  At last they reached the hammered silver doors of the audience chamber she recalled so clearly. She felt a shiver of remembered apprehension run down her spine. Shaine had frightened her that day, before he made her angry. Then she smiled as she called to mind the Mujhar’s terror as Cai swept into the hall.

  “Borrowed glory,” Finn muttered. “Borrowed.”

  Alix glanced at him. “What do you say? This place is magnificent!”

  “This place is Cheysuli,” he retorted. After a moment his voice softened as he glanced around. “Cheysuli.”

  Carillon thrust open the unattended doors. Alix would have gone through immediately but Duncan held her back. She looked at him in puzzlement, then saw his gesture toward Carillon. Understanding, she stepped back.

  The prince entered the long hall slowly. He left a trail of water behind. For a moment Alix saw a vision of the tall prince forcing his way through the narrow culvert, and smiled. Then she went in with Duncan.

  Shaine sat upon the throne, hands clasping the curving lion paws. His eyes stared broodingly into the massive firepit. It had died to coals and the hall was chilly. The Mujhar seemed to notice no one as they approached the dais.

  Duncan paused at the firepit, allowing Carillon to continue on alone. Alix waited also, as did Finn. They watched as Carillon paced the length of the firepit and halted before the dais.

  “You, my lord Mujhar, have been a fool,” he said coldly.

  Shaine looked at Carillon. Slowly he rose to his feet, taller than his heir only by virtue of the dais, staring at him in amazement.

  “Carillon…” he whispered.

  “A fool,” Carillon repeated.

  But Shaine was not undone by Carillon’s unexpected presence. He was a king before all else, and could still command a powerful presence when he chose. “You will not speak to me until you find the proper words of respect to your liege lord.”

  The prince laughed openly. “Respect. You have earned none of mine, uncle.”