“Duncan—he is still alive!”
“He will have to remain that way. We can spare no more time, Alix. Come.”
Getting out of Homana-Mujhar safely proved more difficult than getting in. Twice Duncan had to fend off Solindish soldiers and Alix shrieked once as a wounded Atvian rose from the floor. A thrown knife bearing Carillon’s royal crest quivered in the man’s back and she looked up to meet Finn’s eyes across the corridor.
“So, meijha, you still trail after my rujho.”
Alix, faced with Finn’s obvious exhaustion and blood-smeared features, laughed at him. “Aye, I still do. And ever will.”
Finn smiled at her and retrieved the knife that was now his, shooting his brother a searching look. Duncan gestured for him to follow and they moved down the corridor silently.
“The prince?” Duncan asked hoarsely.
“I left him in Shaine’s own chambers, effectively dispatching two Atvians. Our princeling has learned how to kill. He did not need my help.”
“Are you ready to go from this place?”
Finn laughed shortly. “Though I hate leaving such work unfinished, I am more than ready. All we do here is die.” He sighed. “We will take Homana-Mujhar another time.”
“Carillon might not wish to go.”
“He will when I have told him. He may be my liege lord, but I have more sense.”
“Do you?” Alix demanded, grasping Duncan’s belt as they moved.
“Aye, meijha, I do.”
“Well, rujho,” Duncan said, “perhaps you have gained some in the past months. You never had any before.”
Finn, affronted, followed them as Storr moved closely at his heels.
They found Carillon where Finn had said and convinced him to join their flight from the palace. He was not particularly happy with the idea, but gave in when Duncan explained their chances. Carillon sighed and pushed a forearm across his damp forehead. His hair had dried into unruly curls.
“This way,” he said and led them through winding corridors.
Twisting and turning in the bowels of the immense palace, they followed the prince out of Homana-Mujhar, glad of a respite. They found no Atvian or Solindish troops and it gave them all a chance to breathe again.
Alix followed Carillon out of a recessed doorway into the small bailey at the back of the palace. Behind her were Duncan and Finn, murmuring to one another in the Old Tongue she had not yet quite learned. Then she came to an abrupt stop as Carillon halted before her, and stepped around him to question their pause.
She came face-to-face with a cloaked figure very like the man she had slain in the streets of Mujhara, and suddenly she was very afraid.
A gloved hand slid the hood back, baring exquisitely fine features and a sweetly beguiling smile. “Alix,” he said softly. “And my lord prince of Homana. I could not have hoped for better fortune.”
“Tynstar…” she whispered.
Duncan stepped beside her, keeping her between himself and the prince. Finn stood at Carillon’s right hand, making certain the prince had room to use his sword. Storr, hackled and growling, waited at Finn’s right side.
Tynstar smiled. “A tableau. I have before me the three men most responsible for attempting to ruin Bellam’s bid to take Homana.” His black eyes flickered. “And the woman.” He moved closer soundlessly, staring into her face. “Alix, I said you should remain insignificant. You have not heeded me.” She swallowed heavily and fought down the fear that threatened to turn her knees to water. The man who had been so kind and unassuming when first they met displayed his true colors to her at last, and she understood the magnitude of his dedication to his dark gods.
Tynstar smiled more broadly. “Shaine is dead. And Keough. Even Prince Thorne lies dying of a Cheysuli knife. You have accounted for a large toll, this night.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “But it is for naught.”
“Naught!” Carillon echoed.
“Aye. Bellam holds Homana-Mujhar. Homana is his.”
“Yours,” Alix said softly. “Homana is yours.”
The Ihlini smiled sweetly.
Carillon’s hand settled on his sword hilt. Tynstar’s eyes moved from Alix to him.
“Were I you, my young Mujhar, I would leave Homana-Mujhar instantly.”
Carillon’s hand twitched. “You tell me to go…”
Tynstar affected a casual shrug. “You are nothing to me. Bellam wants you for parading before his men, and to show the Homanans your defeat, but I see no use in that. It only makes a man determined to have retribution.” A hand gestured smoothly. “You have seen what such desires have done to the Cheysuli.”
“The qu’mahlin is ended,” Carillon snapped. “Ended. The Cheysuli may come and go as they please, as before.”
Alix felt the surge of joy in her chest, but did not move. Before Tynstar, she could not.
The Ihlini gestured toward the small gate in the high walls. “Go, my lord, else I change my mind.”
Carillon drew his sword. Before he could complete the action of lifting it against Tynstar he was rudely halted. He uttered a single choked-off cry and the Cheysuli blade clanged to the stones from nerveless fingers. Carillon, collapsing like a drunken man, fell forward to his hands and knees in front of the sorcerer. His head bowed as if in submission.
Alix gasped and moved forward. Duncan caught her arm and pulled her back.
“Wait…” he breathed.
Tynstar’s eyes were expressionless as he looked on Carillon’s taut shoulders.
“I hold your life, Shaine’s heir. I could crush your heart in my very hand, yet never touch you. I could steal the very breath from your lungs in an instant. I could make you blind, deaf and dumb with no more wits than a mewling infant.” His teeth gleamed in a terrifying smile. “But I will not.”
Alix, angered by his words and that neither Duncan nor Finn moved against the sorcerer, jerked free of Duncan and walked toward Tynstar. She stopped at Carillon’s side.
“If you take his life, you must also take mine. Do you think I will stand by while you use your dark arts against my kinsman? I am of this House also, Ihlini!”
Tynstar lifted a gloved hand as if in benediction. Another shudder wracked Carillon’s body and Alix sucked in a frightened breath.
“I can harm none of you with my arts,” Tynstar said calmly, “and my strength is lessened within your presence. But there is enough left to me. Carillon is solely within my care. Speak again, Lindir’s daughter, and see the result.”
“You cannot touch me, Ihlini,” she whispered. “My own magic is stronger than any other Cheysuli’s. I have only to show you my wolf’s fangs, and you will die as Keough did, of fear alone.”
Tynstar’s eyes narrowed. “It is true, then, that Lindir gifted you with the Old Blood of this land.” He smiled and shrugged. “Well, I can wait. Time is nothing to a man who is already three centuries old.”
He glanced regretfully at Carillon. Slowly the prince gathered his strength and got shakily to his feet, lifting the sword loosely as he rose. He stared in cold fury at Tynstar a moment, then looked at Alix. His hand touched her arm.
“I heard, cousin. And I give you my thanks.”
Tynstar stepped back from them smoothly. His beguiling smile blanketed them all.
“Bellam will hold Homana-Mujhar, Carillon, and you will have to fight him for it. But not this night.”
He raised a hand, called purple flame hissing from the darkness, and disappeared.
Epilogue
The darkness, illuminated only by eerie Ihlini flames as purple demon fire consumed the magnificence of Homana-Mujhar, was oppressive. Yet somehow they gathered the surviving Cheysuli warriors and left the palace, forsaking the Homanan city Bellam of Solinde had won.
Carillon said very little on the long ride back to the Keep, so many leagues into Ellas, but Alix knew he had not given himself up to depression. Carillon, the boy-prince who had grown into a king, planned.
When at last they reached t
he Keep and the warriors scattered to their pavilions and women, Carillon solemnly accepted Duncan’s invitation to stay in the slate-colored clan-leader’s pavilion.
And it was there, six days later, he told them his decision.
Alix shook her head repeatedly. “You should stay here. Here.”
He sat before the fire cairn in his scarred leathers and crusted mail. His wrists, though nearly healed, displayed the deep wounds left by Atvian iron.
Carillon’s blue eyes were steady. “Bellam sends troops to find me. He is not a man who gives up easily. The Cheysuli have suffered enough at Shaine’s hands; I will not have them dying because the Mujhar’s heir shelters in their Keep.”
“You are the Mujhar,” Finn said quietly.
Alix glanced at him and saw the odd calmness she had come to acknowledge in him. For all the confrontation within Homana-Mujhar had changed Carillon, it had also worked its power on Finn.
Carillon gestured dismissively. “It is a title, Finn; no more. And empty. Bellam—on the throne of Homana—claims it his.”
“Homana knows it false,” said Duncan in his husky voice. Alix still winced when she heard it, fearing his normal tone would never return; knowing Duncan, like Carillon, would carry his scars for life.
“Homana is a defeated land,” Carillon said quietly. “It is folly to deny it. To survive, Homana must do Bellam’s bidding…for a time.”
“And Tynstar’s,” Alix said softly, shivering.
Finn shrugged casually. “We need only wait, Carillon. You will take back Homana-Mujhar.”
The last surviving male member of the House of Homana sighed heavily. “Not, I think, for a long while. Thorne heals in Atvia, swearing he will avenge his father’s strange death.” His eyes flicked to Alix, who stared fixedly at the fire cairn. “Tynstar and his Ihlini buttress Bellam’s hold on the thrones of Homana and Solinde. This land’s strength is diminished, and must renew itself before the battle begins once more.” He smiled faintly. “I cannot ask my battered realm to go so quickly into war again.”
Alix met his eyes at last. “Where will you go?”
“We are safe here, across the Ellasian border. Your Keep has been left unbothered by High King Rhodri’s soldiers for years. I think no one will mind a lone prince wandering through. I will fade into the land for a time.” Carillon’s faint smile, older now, came quickly. “But I will not risk another Cheysuli life until it benefits us all.”
“It matters little that we risk ourselves,” Duncan said quietly. “The prophecy says one day you will ascend the throne of Homana. One day…you will.”
“The Cheysuli throne, Duncan?” Carillon mocked, and grinned. “I have not forgotten.”
“Nor have we.”
Carillon abruptly got to his feet. He stared down at Alix.
“Cousin, once you told a naive, arrogant princeling the truth of Shaine’s qu’mahlin, and he denied it. He even denied you. I am sorry for it. You are wiser than any I have known.” He reached down and took her hand, pulling her to her feet. “You have been truer to your blood than I could ever hope.”
“Carillon…”
He shook his head and released her hand. “I have a horse. And, I believe, a shapechanger sworn to be the Mujhar’s liege man. Like his father.”
Finn rose and grinned into Alix’s stricken face. “There, meijha, you rid yourself of me at last.”
She said nothing, unable to speak past the pain closing her throat.
Finn looked at Duncan. “Rujho, care for your cheysula. She is not one to be treated lightly.”
Duncan smiled and rose, sliding a hand around Alix’s waist. With the other he held out the black war bow, ornamentation gleaming.
“Here, my lord Mujhar. Finn will show you how to use it.”
Carillon hesitated. “But only a Cheysuli may shoot a Cheysuli bow.”
“Traditions change,” Duncan said softly.
Carillon took it silently. Then he walked from the pavilion like a man turning his back on a past, intent on making a future. “Storr!” Alix cried.
The wolf’s eyes were warm. Tahlmorra, liren.
Alix watched in mute pain as Finn followed Carillon, silver wolf flanking him. She was hardly aware of Duncan’s hands settling at her hips, pulling her close against him. She was conscious only of the deep anguish and regret swelling in her breast.
“They will be well, cheysula.”
“Why must they both go?”
He laughed softly. “Have you not longed for Finn’s absence from your life?”
She swallowed. “I have…grown accustomed to him. That is all.”
“The Mujhar is ever served by a Cheysuli, as Finn said in Homana-Mujhar. As Hale served Shaine. And even before.”
Alix stared out the open doorflap and wiped quickly at the tears on her face. “I cannot see Finn and Carillon accomplishing much more than argument!”
His hands tightened. “Argument, as you should know, has its place. I am certain Shaine and Hale argued, on occasion.”
“Look at the result.”
Duncan moved behind her and gently rested his chin on her head. “Carillon is not his uncle.”
“No, he is not.” Alix sighed heavily. “He is only Carillon.”
“He will come back.”
Alix stiffened, but refused to turn to him for fear she would see something she could not bear.
“Duncan…do you speak of tahlmorra?”
“Perhaps.” He turned her until she stared into his face. “Do you think Finn and Storr will allow their princeling to stay long from their home?”
Something fluttered briefly within her. In amazement Alix put a hand to her stomach, then smiled and placed Duncan’s hand there as well so he could feel the child move.
“When Carillon returns, cheysul, he will have a new kinsman to see.”
“And a realm to win back from Bellam,” Duncan said gravely.
She stared into his solemn yellow eyes. “Can he accomplish it? Does the prophecy say he will accomplish it?”
He smoothed back her hair with his free hand. “I cannot say, small one. It is Carillon’s tahlmorra.”
Carillon’s tahlmorra… she echoed sadly within her mind, and instinctively sought an answer in the power the gods had given her.
There she found it, and smiled.
Click here for more titles by this author
DAW titles by Jennifer Roberson
THE SWORD-DANCER SAGA
SWORD-DANCER
SWORD-SINGER
SWORD-MAKER
SWORD-BREAKER
SWORD-BORN
SWORD-SWORN
SWORD-BOUND
CHRONICLES OF THE CHEYSULI
SHAPECHANGERS
THE SONG OF HOMANA
LEGACY OF THE SWORD
TRACK OF THE WHITE WOLF
A PRIDE OF PRINCES
DAUGHTER OF THE LION
FLIGHT OF THE RAVEN
A TAPESTRY OF LIONS
THE GOLDEN KEY
(with Melanie Rawn and Kate Elliott)
ANTHOLOGIES
(as editor)
RETURN TO AVALON
HIGHWAYMEN: ROBBERS AND ROGUES
The Shapechangers Page 27
