Sons of Destiny Prequel Series 003 - The Shifter

by Jean Johnson

  When I do meet her, I'm warning her about Tarquin's suggestion the moment I can. And I'm going to ask her to tell me all the fighting spells she does know, so I know she'll have good ones ready if she ever has to defend herself.

  Kenyen wrinkled his nose. Not from the pungency of the cheeses around them, but from the list of choices she had given. "That's not a lot of offensive spells. Plenty of defensive, but... well, some of them, I don't know why you even bothered to list them."

  Solyn shook her head. "It isn't always about scorching, or... or zapping. The sticky spell, I could use that to glue someone's foot to the ground. Or their arm to their side. It's all in thinking up new ways to apply what you know."

  "Except these are shifters," he reminded her, dipping his brush back into the lamp-heated pot of wax between them. The newly pressed cheeses had been wrapped in clean cloths to wick away the last of the whey as it escaped. These were some of the rounds from an earlier pressing, ones ready for protective waxing. "I'm not sure how well that spell would continue to stick in the face of our abilities. Most of what we do in the warbands is go up against feral livestock, bandits, or locals rebelling against the law, and mostly only in the neighboring kingdoms. We almost never go up against an evil mage, and the three times we did where I was along, either we knocked them out fast and wrapped them in bluesteel, or we killed them equally fast."

  "Most of the surrounding kingdoms don't have that many mages, compared to the edges of the continent," she agreed, painting her own cheese with the green-dyed wax. "You'd think that after almost two hundred years, the ways of magic would have settled back down, but the birthrates have stayed low in Correda, and from what I hear, in Zantha and Morna as well."

  Kenyen shrugged. His brother was more the type to think about such things, but he offered an idea of his own. "Maybe the explosion that destroyed the capital was a curse? Magic can be pretty potent when hurled with enough emotion behind it. Even we Shifterai know that much."

  She snorted and dipped her own brush, coating the last bit of unwaxed cheese exposed on the round braced in her lap. "Even an ungifted farmer can hurl a curse and make it stick, if they really, really mean it. It won't be as strong a curse as a real mage's efforts, but... Well, whatever happened at that last Convocation of the Gods, they had plenty of mages in attendance, so any one of them could've been at fault. Or even a dozen of them."

  "Whatever happened, it destroyed the Empire. Lucky us, we get to live in the shattered remnants of whatever was left." Kenyen chuckled wryly. "Literally, in the case of Shifting City."

  They both reached for the maker's stamp at the same time, with his hand covering hers. He smiled at her and squeezed briefly, then withdrew his touch with a flick of his fingers, indicating she should go first. Nodding, Solyn picked up the stamp from the low table and pressed it firmly into three different spots on the soft wax. Setting the stamp back on the table, she twisted to put the cheese on the nearest shelf. The act of stretching forced a grunt out of her.

  "Umff... I'm getting stiff and sore, sitting in one spot for too long," she grumbled. "We're about halfway done. How about we do something different for a bit?"

  "Like what?" Kenyen asked, stamping his cheese before handing it to her. Setting aside the thick linen drop cloth that caught the excess wax, she stood to place it on the shelves. That meant Solyn had to bend over to rearrange the cheeses, and that in turn meant he found himself admiring her rump as it wiggled and swayed with each movement. There was nothing wrong, culturally, in enjoying the view, and it was a rather nice view in his opinion.

  "Oh, I don't know. Stand and stretch, talk for a bit..." Glancing over her shoulder, Solyn caught him staring at her backside. She blushed and finished moving the newly waxed cheeses as she spoke. "This section is almost full. We should just go ahead and move to the next alcove, since we still have another twenty cheeses to do, and there's only room for three or four here."

  He set aside his own drop cloth. "That'll help with the stretching, I suppose."

  Mindful of the flames in the heating lamp, Kenyen picked up the hot pot of wax and set it on the table, then carefully moved the combination of brass stand and three-wick lamp. Once it was positioned, he came back for the pot of beeswax. Solyn, writing down the tally numbers for the current set of cheeses, joined him in moving the little worktable, picking up the cloths and brushes, the writing brush, inkstone and stick, and the thick-paged, age-stained ledger.

  That reminded her of the papers she had snuck into her dinner bag. Setting everything on the table once he had it positioned, Solyn diverted to the oilcloth sack. "I brought some folding paper. It's not much; I had to cut it down small and pack it carefully so it wouldn't get bent prematurely on the trip down here. But I do have six sheets, and the ledger ink will do. Why don't we write out those messages?"

  "Are you sure about that?" Kenyen teased mock-solemnly. "It does involve more sitting."

  The dirty look she shot him was worth it. Chuckling, he set up their workspace for waxing, then followed her to the alcove where the ledger was normally kept. Kenyen picked at the bits of beeswax on his hands. The stuff clung, even when mixed with plant-based waxes to modify it better for food preservation.

  "Here—manumundic," Solyn chanted, covering his fingers with her own. He sneezed as the magic cleaned both of their skin, quickly turning his head into his shoulder. She patted his pink-scoured flesh and released him. "Our hands need to be clean before I unwrap this paper—wait, didn't you bring the ink?" she asked, peering at his empty palms, then past his shoulder. "Go on, fetch it! The ledger table has a clean brush pen we can use."

  Kenyen obediently followed her command, fetching the bottle in question. Unsure of how long this letter-writing would take, he paused to blow out the three flames flickering under the beeswax. It wouldn't do for the ceramic pot to get hot enough to crack and leak, permitting the wax to catch on fire without their being close enough to notice right away. There didn't seem like much to catch on fire down here, since the tunnel had literally been carved out of rock, but between the wax-covered wheels and the wooden racks supporting them, he didn't want to take that chance.

  "What did you... oh, you blew out the wax lamp?" Solyn asked, turning away from the folded packet of papers. At his confirming nod, she smiled at him. "Thank you. It won't take that long to reheat it. Now... oh, bother." Her ring squeezed on her finger. Dropping her voice, she hissed, "Someone's coming—quick, your face!"

  Not sure how quickly whoever it was might approach, Kenyen pulled Solyn close. Putting his back to the rest of the tunnel, he kissed her as he shifted his body. Lightening his dark brown locks, he kinked them into soft curls, then broadened his shoulders. Only then did he start altering the rest, shaping his flesh to match the image held in his mind. He was getting better at holding the shape of Traver Ys Ten, enough that he could no longer remember how to shape himself as small and mottled as a hunting cat, but better wasn't yet perfect. Better wasn't as fast as the shape of a stripe-cat, his oldest and most familiar shape.

  Not a lot of his attention was going into the kiss; most of it focused on rounding and lengthening his face, altering his nose and his brow, his cheeks and his chin. Solyn didn't seem to mind, however. She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into his frame, tilting her head with a sigh of what he hoped was enjoyment. She was the one who nibbled on his lips even as he flattened out the natural bow on the upper one, making it smoother, more like Traver's.

  "... Oh!"

  Finally confident of his face, Kenyen broke off their kiss. He peered over his shoulder, trying what he hoped was an awkward, embarrassed expression. He blushed at the sight of Reina—a real blush, not a faked one—and reluctantly let her daughter go. "Uhh... hello."

  Solyn greeted her with equal awkwardness. "Um... Mother. Hello."

  Reina eyed both of them, empty basket handle clutched in her hands. "Well. You are wearing those amulets, I trust?"

  "Mother!" Solyn exclaimed, blushing.
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  "Alone down here together, for hours on end?" Reina asked, arching one brow. "As far as euphemisms go, 'waxing the cheese' isn't one that normally comes to mind for such—"

  "Please!" Kenyen interjected firmly, as Solyn's face headed toward purple. He gave the older woman a quelling look. "We haven't been doing that."

  "It was just a kiss, Mother!" Solyn added, recovering some of her composure. She felt flustered, but it truly had only been a kiss. "We're taking a short break—to stretch," she asserted firmly as her mother lifted one brow again, "—and then we'll go back to work. Cora's Truth!"

  Reina eyed both of them, then shrugged. "Whatever you see fit to do, you may do... so long as you wear those amulets. And so long as you realize Ysander isn't going to wait forever for the two of you to make your twinings the married sort." She shrugged blithely, turning away. "But what do I know? I'm just a mother, here to pick up a couple of cheeses..."

  Loading three rounds into her basket, Reina strolled back out of the winding tunnel, leaving them alone once more. Embarrassed, Solyn covered her face. She stayed that way until the ring spun on her finger, reassuring her they were alone. Slumping, she dropped her hands, then fanned her overheated face. "That was awkward."

  "We're alone again?" Kenyen asked her. Solyn nodded, turning back to the table. He nodded as well. "Right. Let's get those messages written and sent."

  Taking his hands in hers, Solyn muttered the spell her mother's approach had interrupted. "Manumundic!"

  Kenyen hastily turned his head into his shoulder, muffling his sneeze. He gave Solyn a sheepish look. "I'll have to get better at suppressing the urge to do that."

  Contrite, Solyn wrinkled her nose. "I should've remembered an allergy potion, myself. You'll just have to suffer until I can make one, I guess. Okay... let me prepare the first paper..."

  His nose itched. From her first murmur, his nose stung and itched. Kenyen tried rubbing it discreetly, then pinched it openly. As her power rose, so did the sting deep in his nostrils, like smelling something acrid, though not unpleasant. He sneezed twice more, then the itching subsided. When she beckoned him over, Kenyen sniffed hard to clear his nose as he picked up the pen.

  "Who is the first person you want to write to?" Solyn asked him. "Hold that person's name, face, mannerisms, and all of who they are, firmly in your mind."

  "Ashallan," he stated, holding the image of the foremost of the three princesses in his mind. He had given a lot of thought to who he would contact and what he would say. Picking up the pen, he dangled it over the ink jar. "Do I start writing now?"

  Solyn nodded, shifting a little farther away. She watched as he frowned in concentration for several moments, dipped and tapped the pen, and stroked small, neat lettering onto the prepared sheet. It didn't take him long, but then the sheet wasn't very large.

  Ashallan Nur Am, Cat, Lion;

  Nespah Valley the correct one. Multiple curs in area, twenty-plus. They want something dangerous. Trapped into imitating endangered local; being watched but have ally. Need help rescuing local. Be discreet; ask for greenvein cheese.

  Sin Siin, Cat, Tiger

  Lifting his hand from the page, mind still focused on thoughts of Ashallan, with her middle-aged features, her long, dark brown hair, Kenyen nodded at the message. "That's it. What now?"

  She nodded. "Give it a few moments to dry. You might want to step back and get ready to sneeze again."

  Stepping back, he gave her room. She peered at the inked sheet, counted quietly under her breath, and finally nodded. As Kenyen watched, she picked up the sheet and started folding it diagonally, then crosswise. To his surprise, she sang as she worked. The words and the power behind them made his nose itch once more, but the tune was nothing more and nothing less than a children's melody, the kind he himself had sung back on the Plains. Different words entirely, but the same rhythmic, happy tune.

  He almost sang along. Catching himself, Kenyen kept silent while she worked. The paper folding was fascinating, each bend simple enough on its own, but when put together, complex. By the time she finished, the square of paper vaguely resembled a sharp-beaked bird with its wings upraised, and no legs.

  Solyn stopped singing. She eyed her creation critically, turning it over to check all sides. Running her fingers along each leading wing edge, she made them curve, then held the bird by its folded paper breastbone and pulled on the tail. The wings moved, flapping down and up with each tug.

  Startled, Kenyen blinked, then tentatively touched his nose. "I didn't sneeze?"

  Solyn smiled. "No, you didn't, because the movement isn't magical. If you fold it right, the pressure on the paper makes the wings flap. That's what makes the flying spell possible. They do have a limited range, but Teshal isn't even half that—I've successfully sent bird-notes to tea caravans stopping in cities on the far side of the Morna River. I can even show you how to fold a non-magical one afterward, if you like. Here, hold firmly in your mind the memory of the person this message is for, and paint their name on each wing."

  She had folded the bird so that the writing was on the inside. Kenyen had plenty of room to write Ashallan Nur Am on each wing. When he finished, he asked, "How will she know this is a message that needs to be opened up and read?"

  "It'll flutter around her hand until she tries to catch it. The moment she does, it'll unfold on its own and she'll be able to read the message inside. Anyone else would have to tear it open, and they'd be fighting the power of the spell to do so. It's not quite a reliable means of secret communication, but it does resist casual spying," she told him. Instead of reaching for the paper bird or the pen, Solyn plucked the next sheet from the pile. "We'll do all of them up to the part where you paint the name on the wings, then I'll bind the flying enchantments in place all at once. Let me get the next one started..."

  Kenyen realized he was hungry. Getting up, he returned to the alcove with the bag of food she had brought. Inside were a couple rounds of flatbread, bits of cold roasted beef, thinly sliced onion, leafy greens of some sort, and a jar of pickle sauce. The sauce was an acquired Corredai taste in Kenyen's opinion, alien and a bit strange, but it wasn't too bad. Uncorking the jar, he sniffed at the paste inside, wondering if he wanted any on his flatbread. Huh... the smell goes with the scent of the greenvein cheese around us. I wonder if they taste good together?

  "... Kenyen? Where did you go?"

  "To fetch the food," he called back. "It's past noon." He recorked the jar and tucked it back into the bag. Picking up it and the waterskin, he carried both back to the ledger alcove. "As soon as we're done writing and folding, I figure we can eat. And since you're busy chanting and folding, I might as well set it up, right?"

  That earned him another smile. She was passably pretty under most circumstances, but Solyn's beauty truly blossomed when she smiled, in his opinion. Even the amused half smile she gave him, twisting up one corner of her mouth in teasing. "I'll have to keep cleaning your hands, though."

  "I'll suffer the sneezing," he promised mock-solemnly. Grinning with her, he settled the bag on the table, sneezed as promised when she cleaned his hands, and picked up the pen. "Ready for me to write?"

  "Remember, keep firmly in your mind who this new person is. Everything about them, their mannerisms, their nature, their voice and their face and their name, everything that makes them who they are, and the person you know," she instructed. "I'll go get one of the cut rounds so we can have some greenvein with our meal—you might as well have a taste of what we're trying to protect."

  Kenyen nodded absently. The next person he knew he wanted to contact was Manolo. The older shifter wasn't high-ranked in their expedition, but he was levelheaded and the one person whom Kenyen knew for absolute sure. The first letter had to go to Ashallan as the head of their little mock warband, but this letter was the one Kenyen was sure would get through. The message was the same; now that he had composed it to fit on the small square, it didn't take long to write.

  Once she started humming
and folding, Kenyen picked up one of the slices she had cut from the mold-mottled round of greenvein cheese. Eyeing the streaks of green warily, he braced himself and tried a nibble. And sneezed. Not just any sneeze, but a really good sneeze, the kind that wasn't too hard or too stingy. The kind that cleared his nose in just two deep breaths post-sneeze, allowing him to smell everything a lot better than before.

  I guess her magic literally made me allergic, he thought in wonder, listening to her chant away. Even more oddly, his nose didn't sting anymore, though she was still singing as she folded. Bemused, Kenyen nibbled again at the cheese. It had a good flavor, tangy and tasty. He liked it. Heh... I don't know much about magic, but if this stuff stops me from sneezing, I know many a husband down on the Plains, married to mage-wives, who would pay dearly for rounds of this. Being married to a mage is a rare treat, and we'll endure it for our lady's sake, but the chance to not sneeze would make a most profitable trade arrangement.

  Dutifully, he let her clean his hands so he could paint Manolo's name on the wings of the second bird. Then went back to nibbling more of the cheese while she started on the next page. The actual act of spell-cleaning his skin made his nose sting, though not enough to sneeze. But with the first bite of green-mottled cheese, the tangy-sharp flavor cleared away the itch. It must be the cheese. Definitely a point of trade to consider...

  Curiosity drove him to use the small spoon provided, dabbing a bit of pickle-sauce on the remainder of his cheese slice. The combination was sharper than expected, but very, very tasty. Catching sight of his actions, Solyn quirked a brow. He grinned back at her.

  "You know the drill. Hold in your mind an image of the person this message will reach..."

  * * *

  Seven

  They made two more messages, one to Asellah, the princess from Family Mustang, Clan Horse, and one to Narquen Vil Shem, the male who had headed for the holdings of the Mespak Valley to the southeast. Kenyen knew both of them well enough from their travels. The group had been together since setting out at midspring, after all. But he didn't know them quite as well as he knew Manolo.