Shadowlands (9781101597637)

by Malan, Violette

  He lifted his wine, and put it down again without drinking. “You should have told me,” he said. “Trust must work both ways.”

  I loosened the muscles of my jaw. “Okay,” I said. “But I saw this as someone else’s secret, not my own. I made a judgment call, and I’m sorry you got caught in the middle.” Well, maybe not strictly the whole truth, but close enough to save the moment. “It’s going to happen that there are things I can’t share with you.” His face began to cloud over again. “Even if this wasn’t one of those things,” I added quickly. “Nothing’s changed. Wolf is still the person we know, whatever he might have been in the past.”

  Hawk cleared his throat, and I was happy to turn away from Alejandro’s still suspicious face. “But you will acknowledge, that having been what he has been, we must question him,” Hawk said. “You said you could prove your assertions?”

  “I can.” I looked over my shoulder at Alejandro. He’d gone back into the kitchen for a bowl of olives and was just placing it on the ledge of the pass-through. “Do you have something from any of these People, a possession or piece of clothing that I could get a reading from? What about the Troll? You said he was still alive, could I touch him? Or what about something from his apartment?”

  Hawk turned his dark amber eyes to Alejandro. “She is a Truthreader?” he asked. I was just getting offended that he hadn’t asked me directly when he looked back at me and smiled. You would have thought it was Christmas day and he was a kid with a new toy.

  I felt Alejandro looking at me. His face was still stiff, but he gave me the tiniest of nods, telling me he was going to let me handle it. I breathed a little easier. He was going to forgive me.

  “I can give you a demonstration if you’d like,” I said, though from the look of delight still on his face he wasn’t going to need it. I was just about to ask him to let me have his watch when he spoke.

  “I have an excellent idea,” he said, his voice rumbling with eagerness. “Would you be willing to come to the Lands to gather truth from Mountain Crag?”

  Ooh. That was the question, wasn’t it? Even the thought of having to go to the Lands made me shiver, and swallow carefully.

  “Has he been Healed?” Alejandro cut in before I could answer. “If the Troll has been Healed, then the traces of the Hound would be gone from him, as they are from me, and Valory might very well read nothing from him.”

  I saw right away where he was going. “But if his apartment hasn’t been cleaned—or even if it has—I’ll be able to get a reading there. Whatever or whoever attacked him will at least have brushed up against something in the struggle.”

  “Then it is back to Segovia,” Hawk said, “and Jenaro’s apartment.” I noticed that when he spoke of the Troll’s human life, he used his human name. “I can take us there directly from the crossroads.” He looked at the table. “Once we have eaten.”

  “Whenever you’re ready,” I said.

  “It is very good of Valory to agree to help with this,” Alejandro said, his eyes fixed on his own plate. That was as close to an olive branch as I was going to get at the moment.

  “Happy to help,” I said.

  “I will be happy to learn that Wolf is innocent.”

  I looked at Hawk. “He is.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  THE CRACK! OF DISPLACED AIR was muffled by thick carpets and heavy curtains. Wolf breathed in the faint saffron scent that lingered in the High Prince’s Royal York apartment. Eyes closed, he listened, letting ears and nose tell him that he was alone, the apartment empty. He went into the tiny kitchen and opened the refrigerator. This was the closest thing in the whole of the Shadowlands to the type of magic one found in the Lands. Here, food appeared, fresh and tasty, whenever he opened the door. Of course the scents told him that it was brought by humans, replenished on a regular basis, and did not appear out of some quality of the refrigerator itself. Today there was fresh fruit, new cheeses—one with a pleasant blue marbling—and a tub of an almost liquid creamy substance with a pleasingly sharp taste. The dried and cured meats were the same that had been there before he’d left, but better wrapped than he had left them. There was also a brown paper bag with small dark seeds in it that smelled profoundly of ganje.

  He had found and informed two more of the People Alejandro told him about. Both Riders, they had been living in a place called Mumbai. One had received his news with joy, and had set out immediately for the nearest Portal. The other was even more uninterested than the Troll Jenaro had been.

  “Nothing for me there,” he’d said dismissively. “Minor son of minor family, neither Singer, Warrior, nor Healer. What’s there for me but service to someone stronger, more important? Better I stay here, where I am of consequence and have a place, family, children.”

  Wolf had left him to his Internet empire.

  Wolf pulled a bottle of beer out of the refrigerator and twisted off the cap. Not quite as good as it would have been coming out of a barrel, he thought, but still an elegant compromise for a people whose barrels had no magic. He went into the sitting room and stared out of the window at the train station across the street. He went into the bedroom, where the bed had been made up and the curtains opened. He returned to the sitting room and stared at the bookshelves before returning once more to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and stood contemplating the contents. He wasn’t hungry, he decided, and let the door swing shut.

  He leaned back against the granite-topped counter, bracing his hands wide. He’d been focusing hard on his task, hard enough that he’d managed to avoid thinking about his meeting with Moon—about what he had and hadn’t told her—but he could not do this forever. She’d agreed with him that he should try to rescue as many of his old Pack mates as he could. Would she have agreed so readily if she had known one of them was his brother?

  While traveling he had found several other faint trails, old scents that would eventually lead him to one of the People, and one or two of the newer, strange scents that were most likely those of stable Hounds. But he had chosen not to follow those trails. He was certain none of them was Fox’s, and surely it would be best to approach Fox first? The Pack would follow its Leader, and if he could persuade his brother…Wolf swallowed as the beer in his stomach roiled.

  Persuading his brother. That had been where this difficulty began. Fox would not even be a Hound if Wolf had not—No. He pushed himself away from the counter, pushing the thought away with the same action. He would not think of that.

  Wolf sank into one of the soft chairs next to the fireplace and shut his eyes.

  “L’as tu vu?” Nik scanned the expanse of the Royal York’s lobby as if he could spot the Rider himself.

  “Même pas son omber,” Yves Crepeau said. “Not since I arrived, in any case.” He was sitting with an e-reader in a wing-backed chair that gave him a good view of the main doors, the circular staircase, and the elevators.

  Nik took out his cell phone, stared down at it, and then thrust it back into his jacket pocket when he realized he hadn’t even registered the display. Calls to both Valory and Alejandro were going straight to voice mail, so either their phones were off, or they were somehow out of range. He eyed the bank of brass-decorated elevators. Alejandro did say he was going to talk to other Riders. And this guy was another Rider.

  “I’m going up.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  Nik stopped in his tracks. “Not a good idea to risk both of us, Yves.”

  “Not a good idea to risk yourself. Poco said—”

  Nik looked away, sighed, and looked back. “Look, I don’t know what Poco’s told you, but you can see for yourself that I’m fine. I’ve had more experience than most of you put together, so—”

  “So that is precisely why we are concerned.”

  Nik’s mouth snapped shut. It wasn’t everyone who would interrupt him like that.

  “You are like the captain of the ship,” Yves said, his quiet voice steady and matter-of-fact enough that Nik
couldn’t take offense. “Yes, you give us orders, and we obey you. But if we see you putting yourself in danger?” Yves raised his index finger, started to point and then, as if noticing what he was doing, lowered his hand again. “The captain does not leave the ship, Nikos—how many times does television get this wrong?—the captain sends others.”

  Nik looked away again, but when he looked back, Yves was still scrutinizing him, head to one side. The man was right, and Nik knew it. But. “Don’t push that analogy too far, Yves. Sometimes, the captain sends the crew to safety, and then he goes down with the ship.”

  “Not on my watch.” Yves grinned at him. “Sir.”

  Nik shook his head. “Okay. Fine. But this time, as a special favor to me, you’ll wait down here. Got it?”

  Yves’ eyes twinkled. “Oui, mon capitain.”

  He slapped his friend on the shoulder and turned toward the elevators.

  The knock on the door startled him, and Wolf almost Moved without thinking. But this could be someone looking for the High Prince, or at least her human persona. Even if it were one of the servants in the hotel, he should probably answer.

  There was a glass lens set into the door, which revealed and magnified the outer corridor. Wolf would have preferred to rely on his own senses, but the person standing on the other side of the door had that same scent/not scent that he had noticed before. An Outsider?

  The lens distorted size, but not coloring. The Outsider was much shorter than Wolf, but with a distinct Moonward look to him. Curly black hair, cropped close to his skull. Skin like ivory with an undertone of olive. The only non-Rider feature was his very dark eyes. And his rather prominent nose. What would bring him here? Wolf opened the door.

  The man nodded at him. “You’re the Rider? Stormwolf? The one who took Valory that day? I’m Nikos Polihronidis.” The human stuck out his hand. “Call me Nik.”

  At the mention of Valory, Wolf had a sudden image of her dark red hair, her pale skin, and her golden-caramel eyes. Her smile had been warm, and her eyes understanding, carrying concern without pity.

  “Does Valory send you?”

  “Not exactly. Can I come in?”

  Wolf backed away from the door and the Outsider entered, looking around him with a small smile, as if pleased by what he saw.

  “My business partner would love this place,” he said, his smile fading as he turned back to where Wolf leaned against the closed door.

  “If Valory Martin did not send you…?”

  “I was hoping I’d find her here, or maybe you know where she’s gone? Or Alejandro Martín?”

  Wolf moved his head from right to left in slow arcs. “I have seen neither Valory Martin nor Graycloud at Moonrise since the day we were all in the square.” Since that night, was more accurate, but the human did not need to know this.

  “Graycloud? Okay.” The man took a deep breath. “I represent a group of people who’ve been injured by the Hunt,” he continued. “Has ‘Graycloud’ mentioned this to you?”

  Wolf studied the man, head to one side. “You represent? You are their…leader?” He had almost said Pack Leader, but if these were the Outsiders, he did not wish to reveal his own connection to the Hunt.

  “In a manner of speaking, yes. I’m the Senior—”

  “The Senior?” Wolf gestured, and the Outsider preceded him into the sitting room. “You have lived very long?” If this was one of the Hunt’s early victims, it was possible he had insights Wolf would find useful. He pulled a chair out from the dining table, waited until the Outsider accepted it, and then sat down himself.

  The man studied him a while, head tilted to one side, before responding. “I’m not the first, if that’s what you mean, but I might very well be the first to live.”

  Wolf blinked. “The same might be said of myself.”

  “You survived the Hunt?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes. Do you mind if I ask you how…” Wolf didn’t know how to continue.

  “I was found by monks, wandering on the side of the road, where the Hound had left me. They thought I was witless and took me in.” His eyes grew darker as he looked back through his memories. “They didn’t let me kill myself, not even through neglect. They thought it was a sin. It still is, of course, the sin of despair, to be exact.” Nik looked at him sideways, the corner of his mouth twisted up in a grin. Then his eyes narrowed. “But you know about that, don’t you? Despair, I mean.”

  Wolf wondered what could be showing on his face. “Are you a Truthreader also?”

  “Nope. Just been around a long time, like I’m saying. It’s interesting that the—” he gestured at his face. “The facial expressions, that kind of thing, seem to be the same for all of us.”

  Wolf resisted the urge to wipe his hands over his face in an attempt to wipe away what was apparently written there. “How did you live?”

  Nik leaned back in his chair, more relaxed now, as if he was gaining in confidence. “They put me to work, caring for the sick and dying. And one day, I was there at just the right moment, and the dra’aj that was leaving a dying woman—not that I knew what it was then, you understand—her dra’aj entered me, and I was well again.” Once more he smiled that twisted grin. “A miracle.” He shrugged. “So I looked for others like me, through the hospitals and hospices, and eventually we found out what was really happening to us, and now, here we are.” He spread his hands again.

  “You worked to save them, the others of your kind.” Wolf felt a kinship with this man, this human Outsider, that was most unexpected.

  “We all do, together. We still do. What’s happening now…” Nik rubbed his hand over his hair. “This concentration of the Hunt, well, it’s the worst thing we’ve ever faced. Alejandro’s recruiting Riders to help him against them—”

  “Against the Hunt? When did this happen?” Moon had said that the High Prince would ask Graycloud and Nighthawk to find the hidden People, but to attack the Hunt?

  “Since that day,” the man was saying. “They’re feeding all the time now and—”

  Wolf cut him off with an abrupt chop of his hand. “I know this.”

  The man’s face hardened. “Well, we’d like it to stop, and Alejandro—Graycloud—is helping us. He said your High Prince would help us, too, as soon as she could.”

  “I need to speak with Graycloud,” he said. And with Valory. This man Nik was not a Truthreader, but Valory Martin was. She would know exactly what was going on. She would help him. She knew his secret and was still his friend. Perhaps, in Valory’s company, the spinning of his thoughts would come to a rest, and he could see clearly what he should do next.

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to do, but all I get is voice mail—”

  “Come.” Wolf took the human by the arm and…Moved.

  “What—”

  Wolf became aware that Nik was squirming and let go of his arm.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” The man backed away from him, rubbing his arm and looking around him. But his face showed confusion, defiance, and perhaps a little awe. Not fear.

  Wolf blinked and shook his head. “I am sorry,” he said. “You agreed that we should speak to Graycloud, and so I Moved us.”

  “Well do me a favor, don’t do it again.” Nik swallowed. “At least, not without warning. I gotta make a call.” He pulled one of the ubiquitous cell phones out of the inside pocket of his jacket.

  An orange-and-white cat observed them, its head popping up from the over the back of the chair it had been sleeping in. It hopped to the floor and approached, placed its forefeet on his knee, and stretched.

  “Ow!” Wolf jumped backward as the claws dug in. The cat sat down, wrapping its tail around its front paws, and watched him. It blinked.

  “It’s okay, Yves, I’m still with the Rider. Right. Later.” Nik returned the phone to his pocket, and stuck his head into the kitchen. “Hello?”

  “There is no one here, only the cat.” Wolf squatted and held out his fingers. The cat
looked at him but came no closer. Wolf raised his head and sniffed. Another had been here, however, someone he knew. Nighthawk. So, it was possible that the two Riders had gone looking for others. But, in that case, where was Valory?

  Wolf eyed the Outsider, who was looking at a pad of paper on the kitchen counter. He turned back to the cat.

  “How long have they been gone?” he asked. “When will they be back?” The cat got to its feet and walked through the doorway into the kitchen.

  “Um, the cat doesn’t speak.” From the tone of his voice, the human wasn’t as sure of this as his words made him sound.

  Wolf nodded. “So I see.”

  Wolf picked up the pen that sat on the pad of paper, frowned, and put it down again.

  “Did you want to leave a message?”

  Wolf looked from the human to the pen and paper and back again. “A message?”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Probably not a good idea to let them know we were in the house.” Nik looked at him. “This thing you do, can all of you do it? Moving me around, I mean.”

  “Any Rider can, yes.”

  “Cool. Listen, I’d like you to meet my friend Elaine.”

  Walks Under the Moon massaged the muscles around her eyes, moving her fingers slowly, trying to ease away the feeling of exhaustion that claimed her.

  “Enough,” she said to the Singers sitting around the table in her workroom. “I believe we have sifted every Song, every partial lyric, pieced together every lost fragment—you must be at least as tired as I, and with nothing more to show for it but the same new thread.” She let her hands drop.

  “Ah, but at least this time the thread refers to a place, the mountains of Ice Tor,” the Sunward Singer, Cloud of Witness, said. “If, as we believe, the Moonward hero of one of my Song fragments is indeed the same person as the Moonward Rider mentioned in Piper’s fragment.”

  “But I think it is clear,” Piper in the Meadow added, “that that person definitely had possession of the Horn at one point in her career, and it is at least possible that she came from Ice Tor.”