by Anne Bishop
So his kitten was learning the Arcerian way of hunting, and the human ways that Lucivar had quietly taught him. That much exposure to humans had whetted KaeAskavi's curiosity about humans—which brought them to the reason for this journey.
While on a solitary prowl, KaeAskavi had wandered too close to a human village in Glacia and had met a human she-kitten. Instead of being afraid of a large predator, she had been delighted with him, and they became friends. After many secret meetings throughout the summer and early winter, the she-cats, both human and feline, had found out about the friendship—and neither had been pleased.
So KaeAskavi had turned to him, wanting his approval of the friendship to this young human female.
In a way that his mate never would, Kaelas could understand his kitten's fascination with the human she-kitten. KaeAskavi was a Warlord Prince, and Warlord Princes found it harder to do without female companionship. It would be many many seasons before KaeAskavi or the little female would look for a mate. If the she-kitten was a suitable friend, why not let them have each other for companions?
Not that he particularly liked humans. He had never forgotten the hunters who had killed his own dam. But some humans were capable of being more than just meat. The ones who belonged to the Lady, for instance. And the Lady's mate. Despite having only two legs and small fangs, there was much that was feline in that one, and he approved.
So he would look at this little female, and, if he thought she could be accepted by the kindred, he would ask the Lady to look at her, too. The Lady would know if this was a proper friend for his kitten.
Suddenly, the wind shifted so that it was coming from the village, still a mile away.
Kaelas froze. Blood and death scented the air.
*Della!* KaeAskavi lunged forward.
With one swipe, Kaelas bowled the kitten over.
*When blood and death are in the air, you do not run toward it,* Kaelas said sternly.
*Della's village!*
Using Craft, Kaelas probed the area around them. The season humans called spring had already come to other lands, but here winter still had fangs—and deep snow.
*Make a den. Stay hidden,* Kaelas ordered.
KaeAskavi snarled, but immediately rolled to a submissive posture when Kaelas stepped toward him.
*I can fight,* KaeAskavi said defiantly.
*You will hide until I call you.* Kaelas waited a moment. *What does the kitten's den look like?*
From KaeAskavi's mind, he received an image of a small human den, open ground, and then a thick stand of trees where KaeAskavi had waited for his friend.
*Stay here,* Kaelas said. *Make the den.*
Kaelas didn't wait to see if KaeAskavi would obey him. Wrapping himself in a sight shield and air walking so that he left no prints in the snow, he headed for the village, his full, ground-eating stride covering the distance within minutes.
The air near the village smelled of fear and desperation as well as blood and death. His sharp ears picked up the sounds of fighting, the clash of human weapons.
He cautiously used Craft to probe the village and bared his fangs in a silent snarl as he detected a Green-Jeweled Warlord Prince. Something about that one's scent...
Reaching a spot in the trees that looked directly on the back of the she-kitten's den, he heard a female scream and a male's roar. Then a window opened. A young human female climbed out the window and jumped into the snow. But when she tried to rise, she fell again, lame.
Kaelas burst out of the trees, charging toward the spot where the she-kitten lay at the same time an Eyrien Warlord came around the corner of the house. Spotting the she-kitten, the Eyrien raised his bloody weapon and moved forward for the kill.
The human male sensed no danger until eight hundred pounds of hatred slammed into him.
Kaelas bit off the arm that held the weapon while his claws tore open the belly. One blast of psychic power burned out the human's mind, finishing the kill.
He paused to bite some clean snow. Like its psychic scent, there was something about this human that tasted like bad meat.
He shook his head, then turned toward the girl, who was staring at the dead male. *Little one,* he growled.
She pushed herself up and looked around desperately. "KaeAskavi?"
*Kaelas,* he said. With the same gentleness he used with his own kitten, he seized her by the middle and loped off with her, heading for the shelter of the trees.
She made no sound. She didn't struggle. He approved of her courage. And now she was an orphan, as he had once been.
Choosing a spot where the snow had drifted deep, he set the girl down on air, quickly dug a small den, set the girl inside it, then covered up most of the entrance. *Stay,* he ordered.
She curled up in a small, shivering ball.
He loped back to the human den and passed through the wall next to the window the girl had come from. The room smelled of her—and other things, bad things.
The door leading into the rest of the den was open. He could see a bloody female arm. Sensing no life, he didn't bother to go over and sniff her to be sure.
He wished Ladvarian was there with him. Despite living almost all of his life among humans, he didn't understand them as well as the dog did. The dog would have known what the little female needed most.
He thought for a moment. She would need human fur. Using Craft, he opened the drawers and wardrobe, and vanished everything inside them.
What else would Ladvarian bring? Looking around the room, he vanished the puffy bedcovering that smelled of feathers. The kitten could be wrapped in that and kept warm. The urgent need to leave this place pushed at him, but he thought for a moment more.
Kindred had little use for things, but...
He saw it, lying next to the bed. At first, he felt blind hatred, but when he went over to sniff the white toy cat, he realized it had been made from fluffy cloth and not Arcerian fur as he'd first thought. It smelled strongly of the she-kitten—and, fainter, the she-cat's smell was there, too. And there was a psychic smell on it, a smell he associated with the Lady. The High Lord had called it love.
Vanishing the toy, he moved cautiously toward the open door. The dead female had a knife still clutched in one hand. She had fought a stronger male in order to save her kitten—as his own dam had fought against the hunters so that he could escape.
He thought, looking at her, that if she could know her kitten was safe and protected, she wouldn't mind the little female being among the Arcerian cats now.
Passing through the back wall of the house, he stopped near the dead Eyrien male. Using Craft, he passed the remains through the first few inches of snow, then pushed them down deep. The snow was stained with blood and gore, but he didn't think anyone would be looking for this one right away. And until they dug up the body, they wouldn't know that the human hadn't been killed by one of his own kind.
Hurrying back to the trees, Kaelas summoned KaeAskavi. *Come quickly... and silently.*
Reaching the makeshift den, he dug out the entrance. Calling in the puffy bedcovering, he laid it on the snow, using two spells he had learned from the Lady—a warming spell on the inside and a spell to keep the covering dry on the outside. Lifting out the she-kitten, he awkwardly wrapped her in the covering.
She just stared.
Feeling uneasy, he sniffed her carefully. She wasn't dead, but he knew those staring, unseeing eyes weren't good.
Sensing KaeAskavi's approach, he lifted his head. He could detect the faint shadowing of the lighter-Jeweled sight shield, and softly growled approval.
*Della!* KaeAskavi sniffed the bundled female.
*Take the she-kitten to my mate,* Kaelas said. *Use the Winds as soon as you reach a thread you can ride. The little one needs help quickly.*
*My dam will not accept a human kitten in her den,* KaeAskavi protested.
*Tell her the human she-cat fought against hunters to save the kitten—and died.*
KaeAskavi stood perfectly still
for a moment, then said sadly, *I will tell her.* Carefully gripping the covering with his teeth, he trotted off with the she-kitten.
Kaelas waited, keeping track of them through a psychic thread. When he felt KaeAskavi catch the Wind that would take the young cat closest to the home den, he turned back to the village.
3 / Kaeleer
The Green-Jeweled Eyrien Warlord Prince looked upon the carnage with satisfaction. This Gate was now secured for the Dark Priestess's use. She had already selected the sixty pale-skinned, fair-haired people who would replace the ones he and his men had just slaughtered—people she had acquired at the last couple of service fairs. As long as the village looked inhabited and the people appeared to be going about their usual business, he doubted anyone would give any of them a second look. And if a visitor should know the village well enough to realize that the people were all strangers, what was one more corpse?
He turned as the Warlord who was his second-in-command approached. "Did that old bitch Priestess send the message?"
The Warlord nodded. "Sent to Lord Morton, the Glacian Queen's cousin and First Escort."
"And he usually responds to those messages?"
"Yes. And he usually comes alone."
"Then we'd better figure on having company soon. Assign five men with longbows to take up a position behind the landing web."
The Warlord studied the carnage. "If Morton sees this, he might just catch the Winds again and go back to report."
"Then I'll just have to make sure I provide a strong enough lure to get him off the landing web but still within easy range of the bowmen," the Warlord Prince said. "The old Priestess is dead?"
"Yes, Prince."
He heard a faint, pain-filled cry. "And the young Priestess?"
The Warlord smiled viciously. "She's getting the appropriate reward for betraying her own people."
4 / Kaeleer
Daemon followed Khardeen into the house. "It was kind of you to invite me to dinner."
"Kindness has nothing to do with it," Khary replied.
"There's no sense having you rattle around by yourself while you're waiting for Jaenelle."
He'd accompanied her for much of the Spring visit to the Kaeleer Territories, but when it came time to visit the kindred, she had gently but firmly suggested that he go on to Scelt, where she would meet him. They would spend a few days here before visiting the rest of the Territories on this side of the Realm. "Well, you didn't have to give up an afternoon to show me around Maghre. I could have wandered about the village by myself."
"That wasn't kindness either," Khary said after requesting coffee and cakes. He settled into a comfortable chair by the fire. "It got me out of the house. As for dinner, it'll be a pleasure talking to someone who isn't going to snarl at me because of a queasy stomach."
"Is Morghann feeling all right otherwise?" Daemon asked, taking the other chair.
"Oh, she's doing fine for a dark-Jeweled witch in the early stages of pregnancy. Or so Maeve tells me often enough." Khary's smile was a bit rueful.
"But a Territory Queen who's suddenly restricted to basic Craft while she carries a babe is not a Lady with a smooth temper."
"Since you both had to stop drinking the contraceptive brew for this to happen, you're not entirely to blame," Daemon said with a smile.
"Ah, but I'm not the one who loses my breakfast. That seems to make a difference. And there are other—frustrations—for her at the moment. You didn't hear the tussle this morning? I'm surprised since your house is barely a half mile from ours. I was sure all of Maghre heard her shouting this morning."
"At you?"
"No, thank the Darkness. At Sundancer." After thanking the maid who brought the tray, Khary poured the coffee. "Morghann wanted to go riding this morning. Maeve, who's the Healer in Maghre, had said it was fine. Jaenelle had said it was fine as long as Morghann felt well enough."
"But?" Daemon said, the coffee cup halfway to his lips.
"Sundancer didn't think it was fine. He said that since mares in foal weren't ridden, he didn't think a human mare in foal should ride."
"Oh, dear," Daemon said—and then laughed. "No wonder you wanted to get out of the house."
The door opened. Morghann scowled at the tray, then at Khary. But she smiled at Daemon.
Setting his cup down, he rose to give her a kiss. In the months since he'd come to Kaeleer, he'd learned the value of these little gestures of affection—and he'd learned to take pleasure in them.
Khary, he noticed with some amusement and a good dollop of sympathy, had also risen but had wisely not tried to approach his wife.
A maid appeared at the door. "Would you be wanting a cup of that herbal tea Maeve made up for you, Lady Morghann?"
"I suppose," Morghann growled.
Giving Khary a quick glance, Daemon put on his best smile. "Darling," he said to Morghann, "I'm so glad you joined us."
"Why?" Morghann said darkly as she took a seat.
"Because Jaenelle's birthday is in a couple of months, and I wanted your advice about a gift."
As they discussed ideas, Morghann became involved enough not to notice she was drinking a Healer's tea instead of coffee. She even nibbled a little piece of nutcake— which meant the men could have some without having the tray dumped over their heads.
At the end of an hour, Morghann rose. "I have some correspondence to take care of. I'll see you at dinner?"
"I look forward to it," Daemon replied.
She kissed his cheek—and then gave Khary a more generous kiss.
Khary waited a minute after the door had closed behind her. He lifted his coffee cup in a salute. "That was very well done, Prince Sadi. My thanks."
Daemon lifted his cup in response. "It was my pleasure, Lord Khardeen."
5 / Kaeleer
Morton took a couple of steps away from the landing web and froze, unable to take his eyes off the bodies lying in the snow.
What in the name of Hell had happened?
He felt a mild hum from his Ring of Honor, almost like a question. That snapped him out of his shock enough to create an Opal shield. He almost activated the shield in the Ring, then hesitated. That would summon the other boyos—and alarm Karla. He didn't want to do either of those things. Not yet.
He tried probing the area, but didn't pick up anything that would lead him to believe he was in danger. But he did sense the presence of several living people.
His first reaction was to rush forward to help the survivors. Then his training kicked in. Whatever had happened here was more than he could handle alone. And now that he'd been here for a minute, something more than the slaughter felt wrong about this place.
He took a step back, intending to catch the Winds, head for the nearest village, and bring back help.
As he took another step back, an Eyrien came around the corner of a building and saw him.
"Lord Morton?" the Eyrien called.
Morton didn't recognize the Green-Jeweled Warlord Prince. He tensed, ready to catch the Winds and run.
"Lord Morton!" The Eyrien raised a hand and hurried toward him. "Thank the Darkness, you got Yaslana's message!"
That name was enough to catapult Morton a few feet toward the Eyrien. "What happened here?"
"We're not sure," the Eyrien answered, stopping a few feet away. "Yaslana found tracks heading away from the Dark Altar. He took some of the men and followed them." He looked over Morton's shoulder, his face stamped with concern. "Didn't you bring any Healers?"
"No, I—"
It happened too fast. A blast of the Eyrien's Green-Jeweled power shattered his Opal shield at the same moment three arrows pierced his body. The Ebony shield in Jaenelle's Ring of Honor snapped up around him. Two more arrows hit the shield and turned to dust.
He used Craft to remain standing and cursed himself for a thrice-times fool for not activating the shield in the first place. But there was nothing they could do to him now, not even stop him from walking or crawling back to the
landing web and riding the Winds away from there. And the wounds, while painful, weren't that serious. He had an arrow in each leg and one in the left shoulder, but it was high enough ...
He felt a deadly cold filling in his limbs and knew what it had to be. Poison on the arrow tips. But how virulent a poison?
He saw the answer in the Eyrien's cruel smile.
He fell to his knees. No time to give all the warnings he needed to give. No time. So he focused on sending a warning to the person who had always mattered the most to him.
As the body's death closed in on him, he gathered his strength and sent one word. *KARLA!*
6 / Kaeleer
Karla sat at her dressing table, one hand braced on the table, the other pressed against her abdomen. The cramps didn't usually last this long, and they weren't usually this painful.
"Here you are," Ulka said sympathetically, setting a steaming mug on the dressing table. "This moontime brew will make you feel different in no time."
"Thanks, Ulka," Karla murmured. She had accepted Ulka into her Third Circle for the same reason she had accepted other witches from Glacia's aristo families—to placate them after she had exiled her uncle, Hobart. And while she didn't personally like Ulka, she had to admit the woman had been a solicitous companion this winter, fussing a little too much over the minor illnesses but having a good instinct of when to gossip and when to stay quiet.
As soon as the brew cooled enough, Karla took a large swallow. Making a disgusted face, she set the mug down. The brew had an odd, rancid taste. Hell's fire, had some of the herbs gotten moldy or gone bad somehow? Then again, a lot of things hadn't tasted quite right to her all winter. Or maybe she'd just gotten spoiled by the delicious-tasting brews Jaenelle made. It didn't matter how it tasted. It wasn't going to ease the pain if it sat in the cup.
As she reached for the mug again, she looked in the mirror. A chill ran through her when she saw the watchful anticipation in Ulka's eyes. "You poisoned it, didn't you?" Karla said flatly.
"Yes," Ulka said, sounding smug and pleased.
Karla felt her body sluggishly gathering itself to fight off the poison. Because she was a Black Widow, she had a stronger tolerance for poisons than other people would have, but even a Black Widow could succumb to a poison her body couldn't recognize or tolerate.
