by Jean Johnson
"Mother!" Solyn huffed. "As if I'd... ugh! We're going to be wrapping and waxing cheese, Mother, not making babies!" Clutching the amulet, she grabbed Traver by the wrist and hauled him out of the healing room. "Come on—I've parked a barrow cart by the kitchen door. We made sixty pounds of cheese this morning. Or at least it feels like it," she muttered, hauling him through the front entry and back to the kitchen. "Everyone contributed buckets of milk last night. You start loading them into the cart, and I'll grab the cloths Aunt Hylin boiled for us yesterday."
It didn't take long for them to load up the narrow, two-wheeled cart, nor did it take much effort for Traver to heft the handles up and start guiding it around the house and down the sloping, shallow-stepped paths. The hard part was making sure the cart didn't get away from either of them; the return trip, burdened with fewer cheeses, would be much easier to make.
"You'll have to direct me," he grunted, braking the cart by leaning back as it bumped and rattled down a set of uneven stone steps. "Some things are coming back, but my memory's still unreliable. Sometimes I recognize a location, and other times I'm all turned around. I'd rather just have you lead the way."
"Right." Since they weren't alone—it seemed like they were never alone—Solyn bit back what she wanted to say. Instead, she gestured at the trees lining the bottom of the valley. "It's a lengthy walk. We're going up-valley this time, to a cave near Tunric's mine shafts. I brought some bread and water and a few plums to eat. You're pretty much stuck with me for the rest of the afternoon; less time, if you can at least remember how to press and wrap cheese."
Personally, she doubted it. The real Traver knew how; they'd been making cheese runs together for ages. His mother, Tenaria, was the woman who specialized in goat's milk cheese, just as her own mother was known for ones made from cow's milk. An impostor might know a bit about farming or pick it up easily, but cheese-making was an art; any lack of knowledge would show.
"Ah," he murmured. "No wonder your mother thought we, um... needed..." He trailed off on a cough.
That, too, was an oddity. Most of the ones I think are shapeshifted men, they're awfully randy, Solyn thought, puzzling over the differences. They'll leer, they'll smirk, and like Tarquin, they'll even try to steal a kiss. But this one—if he is one—is, well, uncomfortable about it. Except he really knows how to kiss, and something like that surely takes practice?
Thoughts circling uselessly, Solyn gave up on them. Nothing could be settled until they had privacy, and they wouldn't have privacy until they reached the cheese caves. She searched for an innocuous topic. "So... any thoughts about the Early Harvest Faire?"
"I... think I'd enjoy it?" he offered. She couldn't tell if he shrugged, since his shoulders were straining to brake the cart over a steep spot. He continued after the barrow reached a more level section. "I really can't remember my last Faire. Most of what I remember is working hard—which doesn't seem fair, you know."
"Oh?" she asked, wondering if she should offer to take the cart on some of the more level stretches. "Why not?"
"Why should I remember the boring bits after being knocked silly, when the exciting and fun and lovely bits are so much more interesting?" Traver asked her, flashing her a grin.
Rolling her eyes, she didn't dignify that with a response.
Finally, her ring twisted on her finger. She almost missed it, washing the whey from her hands in the basin provided near the cave entrance. Thankfully, her father had crafted it with a set of rounded notches along each edge. The bumping sensation was distinct. About time. Who in the Gods' names could've been so close as to have heard us, yet not be noticed by either of us?
Drying her hands on the scrap of linen hanging from the iron washstand, she hurried back into the lantern-lit depths of the cave. Once upon a time, the place had been a mining tunnel, but the vein of silver had long since run out. Now it was used to store cheeses and other goods which needed to be kept cool.
As she hurried deeper into the mine, the tangy, pungent smell of greenvein mold and wooden racks mingled with the scents of salt-rubbed cheeses in various stages of aging. The place reeked of age-old family secrets to her senses, but at least it was a familiar smell. The way her best friend was acting, on the other hand, stunk of much fresher ones. "... Traver? Where are you? Traver?"
He had washed his hands before her. Solyn knew that much. He had moved back, and she had stepped up to the basin to wash her own, and... and he had vanished. The man walked too softly; that was another point against him being the real Traver. Making her way back to the front of the cave, she called his name again as she moved.
"I'm here. I stepped out to use the bushes." His voice came from ahead, out by the entrance. She hurried back in time to see him rinsing his hands at the basin. He gave her a lopsided smile. "So. The cheeses are in the presses, having the last of the whey squeezed out overnight. Which means we come back tomorrow for salting and wrapping, right?"
"Right," she agreed. Then planted her hands on her hips. "But we're not leaving just yet. I want to have a few words with you, first."
He glanced at the cave mouth, then lifted a damp finger to his lips. Wiping off his fingers, he shooed her deeper into the cave. "Not up front. I'm tired of people constantly hovering near—within eyesight, if not always earshot."
She blushed at the implications. "Traver Ys Ten, if you think for one moment I brought you back here for twining... Well, you're obviously not acting like yourself."
He flashed her a grin, tucking her behind a row of shelves. "Maybe I'm just looking at you with fresh eyes."
That made her roll her eyes. "Ugh. Just stop it, please? I know we're finally alone. You don't have to act around me... because I know you're not the real Traver Ys Ten. If you were... I think the sunsets are particularly orange at this time of year. What do you think?"
He gave her a blank look.
Her hopes fell. "You're not the real Traver. And that means I'm going to have to do something about you. Don't even bother lying."
Kenyen lost his smile. He glanced nervously at the passage back to the cave entrance. "Hush..."
Seeing his worried look, she held up her hand, displaying the silver ring on her middle finger. "What, the real one didn't tell you about this? Or our code phrases?"
Looking back at her, he blinked. "I... don't remember?"
Solyn poked him in the chest, emphasizing each point. "You. Are not. Traver. You are too confident. Too self-assured. Too graceful. Too... manly. Too strong—and too tall... I think." She frowned a little in thought, then shook it off. "But that doesn't matter. I'd swear you were one of them, but you're also... too nice!"
His brows lifted. "Well, as far as accusations go, that last one isn't too bad."
Again, she rolled her eyes. "Traver! Or whoever you are. Ugh... sometimes I think you are still him, and others... Well, there's only one way to be sure-sure."
She reached for his forehead. Kenyen flinched. He hadn't formed the skin-flap to hide his fake Banished brand because he hadn't needed to form it, save for at the bonfire gathering last night. His hair was pulled back in a braid, to hide the fact that he couldn't quite get the curl right, but she wasn't after his hairline. She was after one of the short, wispy hairs that had escaped his plait.
"Ow! Why'd you pull that out?" he demanded as quietly as he could. Kenyen scowled at her, rubbing the stinging spot just above his left temple. "What was that for?"
"Kuzon-ghiff!"
The odd words triggered a sneeze from him. It also writhed the finger-length wisp of hair in her grip, twisting it into a loose knot. Kenyen frowned, confused. "What...?"
"It's the one truth-sensing spell I know. If it tightens the knot," she explained to him, her chin lifted belligerently, "then you're telling the truth. But if it loosens—and especially if it straightens—then I'll know it's a lie. And I want the truth from you. Who are you, really?"
He studied her for a long moment, then looked back at the entrance. "That's a dangerous questi
on, if we're not truly alone."
"You will answer me," she ordered. "I'll not let you leave until you do. Don't think you can get past me."
"Shhh." Eyeing her slender frame, Kenyen didn't believe she could stop him. Not a warband-trained shifter. But he didn't contradict her statement. Lowering his voice, Kenyen murmured. "I will answer, if you speak softly." Waiting for her to nod, Kenyen sighed when she remained stubbornly silent. "Fine. Please, just listen to me. All the way through, before you go running and screaming."
Solyn watched the loosely knotted hair. It squeezed tighter, sliding on the side of the truth. She nodded. "Alright. Speak."
"You're right, I'm not the real Traver Ys Ten. My name is Kenyen Sin Siin, and I am from the Shifting Plains—but not as a Banished criminal," he stated quickly, cutting her off before she could do more than open her mouth. "I actually came here with a group of fellow Shifterai to look for a group of Banished criminals, who we feared were committing further crimes along our borders."
"We split up to cover more ground after we found some disturbing evidence of their activities in these mountains, and that's when I ran across the real Traver on the way here," Kenyen confessed. Her gaze darted between his face and the knotted strand of his hair, which had tightened. "I heard his story about shapeshifters taking over the faces of local townsfolk, and it matched with some of the things we'd found... but before I could help him get back to the others, he was ambushed by the man you call Zellan Fin Don."
Solyn sucked in a breath, startled by that news. The hair was still closely knotted. Licking her lips, she asked. "Is he... is he all right?"
"For now. I saw him last night," Kenyen added. "He's being fed and watered, but they're holding him captive somewhere—I couldn't tell you what roads to take from here, since I don't know the area well enough, but it's in the root cellar of some isolated shepherd's hut. They've told him that once they get whatever it is they want, he'll be let go... but I'm pretty sure they're lying."
That made her wince. "Mother..." she breathed. Solyn checked the wisp of dark brown hair in her grip—still knotted tightly—and met his confused look. "They're after something my mother made. You don't need to know what."
Kenyen shook his head. "I think I do. Because they want me—in the guise of Traver—to worm my way into your family's graces and get it. They won't tell me what it is just yet, since they don't quite trust me enough. Probably to make sure I won't run off with whatever it is myself. But whatever it is, they are willing to kill for it... and that means the real Traver's life is on the line."
She mulled that over, nibbling on her bottom lip. Occasionally Solyn glanced at the hair. Now that he wasn't speaking, it slowly relaxed into its neutral, half-knotted state. "I'm not sure..."
Not sure what she was thinking, Kenyen offered, "Maybe if I knew what to avoid telling them, I wouldn't accidentally let the wrong thing slip. Have you considered that? My goals right now are to get Traver, you, your family, and myself out of this mess alive, then to get word to the other Shifterai about what's been going on in these mountains, and finally to find some way of stopping these shifters, of bringing them to justice."
The hair knotted itself tightly, and stayed knotted for several seconds after he finished speaking. It finally relaxed as the silence stretched between them. He was telling her the truth. Solyn sighed. She wasn't the best mage out there, lacking as she did anything resembling real training, but this was one of the spells she had mastered. With the real Traver's help, no less. "Alright. I believe you. I just... you're not him, and yet..."
She blushed. The pink tint to her cheeks, visible in the light from the oil lamps hung around the cave, intrigued Kenyen. "And yet...?"
Her cheeks warmed further. Solyn tried to dismiss it, turning away from him. "It's nothing."
Catching her hands, Kenyen gently held her still. "Oh, no, you don't. You're the one person I have available to help me pretend to be Traver well enough to fool these curs. What is it?"
"Nothing." She tried tugging her hands away but couldn't shake his grip. Not without losing the enspelled hair. The moment she released it, the truth-telling magic would fade and she would have to pluck a fresh hair and start all over again. Sighing, she gave up trying. "You're just... I wasn't attracted to Traver the entire time I knew him, until... well, obviously I'm still not attracted to him. But don't let that go to your head, shifter! You've stolen his face. I don't like that."
Flushing at the compliment, Kenyen cleared his throat. "Actually, it was his idea." She looked up at him, and he nodded at the strand of his hair, still pinched between her thumb and forefinger. The knot had tightened. "Neither of us wanted to be in this situation, but we are. He's been smart about it, playing along. So have I. As much as we'd wish differently, this is what we've had to do.
"Now, you tell me the truth, Solyn," he ordered her, watching her carefully. "Is my kissing you breaking any oaths you gave to my counterpart? And is it making you uncomfortable? Because I'm being pressured to court you fast, to seduce you into bringing me into your family and win their trust before you or they can ask any questions about my differences. These Mongrel curs are expecting me to kiss you. If I don't at least act like I'm willing to comply, they'll suspect I'm not what I'm pretending to be. Toward them, I mean."
That made her blush harder. Reluctantly, she muttered, "No, we haven't broken any promises. I just, well, panicked when Tarquin the Pushy kept trying to kiss me, and I blurted out that Traver had already asked me to marry him. He didn't really believe me, but Traver—the real one—was willing to play along. But then he had to go with the caravan, and... He was supposed to head down to the Morning River Valley, then cut north and head for the Plains, but he did manage the formal visit to my parents before he left. Or was supposed to leave."
"Only things didn't work out that way," Kenyen agreed under his breath. "Well. If I'm not breaking any vows between you, that does make me slightly less uncomfortable, at least."
The way he phrased it made Solyn eye him warily. She didn't know whether to be offended by that statement or not. "What do you mean, slightly less uncomfortable? You didn't exactly kiss me like you were uncomfortable with it!"
That made him wrinkle his nose. "On the Plains... maidens aren't to be kissed. At all. That's reserved for marriage. You're not a Shifterai, and the rules for outkingdom women are a bit less restrictive—mostly it's making sure you fully agree and aren't coerced, and that it doesn't go against local customs. But you didn't know who I was at the time, which is why I didn't want to kiss you without... Unfortunately, Tarquin is one of them, and he was testing me, to see how much 'loyalty' I retain to the Plains."
"Loyalty?" Solyn asked, relieved he wasn't offended at the thought of kissing her. And slightly annoyed with herself that such a thing should even matter. Another thought crossed her mind. "Wait—if maidens aren't to be kissed at all, how can you possibly be so good at it?"
He blinked at the question. Solyn blushed, realizing how blunt that statement was. Before she could retract her curiosity, he cleared his throat and spoke.
"We have a special rank of priestesses whose duty is to instruct young men on how to... kiss women, and so forth... so they'll be good husbands. They also tend to the physical needs of the men who aren't married. And the earth-priestesses instruct our maidens on what to expect and how to... so on and so forth... so that it's enjoyable for both parties," Kenyen stated, hedging around the direct words for such things.
Tugging her left hand free, Solyn fanned herself. "Goodness," she mumbled. "That's a bit more... um... organized than the Corredai way."
He released her other wrist. "It's our way of showing respect. Which is why these curs who are impersonating people are trying to press me to show disrespect by seducing you. They have a long history of not respecting women."
Solyn considered that. "Didn't you also say that there are a different set of rules for dealing with outkingdom women?"
"The woman has to be mature
enough to handle a frank discussion, as well as fully grown and not still developing physically," Kenyen told her. "She cannot be married to anyone else. She has to be fully aware and consenting... and it's strongly discouraged from, um, I believe you call it 'twining completely' unless one or both parties is wearing... well, something like this."
He pulled the amulet from the pocket of his gathered trousers, displaying it for a moment, then tucked it away again. Face warm, he cleared his throat. Solyn, equally uncomfortable, sought for something else to discuss. She recalled her earlier question.
"What was that you mentioned about loyalty, to the Plains?" she asked. He started to shrug, looking like Traver but not moving like him; the difference, knowing that he wasn't the real Traver Ys Ten, disturbed her. Solyn interrupted him. "—Wait, could you show me what you really look like? Your face is Traver's, but you just don't molelike him, and it's bothering me."
Nodding, Kenyen relaxed his shifted features. It felt good, like stretching and relaxing a muscle that had been clenched for too long. His clothes didn't change and his hair remained braided, but it darkened and turned straight. His face shifted from oval to more heart-shaped, he gained a thumb-length in height, and the proportions of his muscles shifted, filling out more evenly over his body, rather than concentrating in his shoulders, calves, and thighs.
He spread his arms. "This is the real me. Take a good look. I won't be able to stay this way until after the real Traver is free and these members of the so-called Family Mongrel have been dealt with."
Solyn glanced quickly at the hair still clutched in her hand. It was firmly knotted, proving this was the shifter's true form. She nodded and studied him. He was actually kind of handsome. Most of it, she could still sense lay in the confident way he stood in front of her, neither hunching his shoulders nor ducking his head. Solyn nodded again when she had his face and figure committed to memory. "Thank you."
"Thank you for believing me," he murmured. Reluctantly, Kenyen shifted back. The process of turning himself into Traver Ys Ten took three times as long as returning to himself, particularly as he had no mirror to consult. Once he felt confident in his shape, he spoke again. "I'm sorry; I'd stay in my true shape, but it takes concentration to put on another man's face, and I can't risk anyone wandering in here and finding us together like this—as it is, I'm thoroughly nervous that one of those damned shifters is still outside, watching us."
