Shadows and Light

by Anne Bishop

  “Of course not,” Neall replied hotly. “She’d never say anything even if —”

  “If what?” Ashk said, just as hotly. “If you think she doesn’t enjoy your lovemaking, you should pay more attention. The two of you —”She broke off, trying to hold back feelings that had been building inside her for months. “You’re more like your father than you know.”

  “What do you mean?” Neall asked.

  Ashk laughed softly, a pained sound. “Kief used to worry over whether or not he was good enough for Nora, whether or not he pleased her as a lover. Your grandmother didn’t approve of him, you know, because he wasn’t a witch’s son or even pure Fae. But he loved Nora, and she loved him in that quiet, deep way she had. She planted beans that first summer. Lots of beans. Because they were his favorite. He didn’t understand it was a declaration of love, didn’t understand that passion doesn’t always burn hot and bright on the surface, not when it’s deeply rooted in the heart.”

  “I remember them,” Neall protested. “I remember their laughter, how they looked at each other. I was a child when they died, and maybe I didn’t understand what those looks meant, except that I always felt warm and safe, but I would have known if they were unhappy with each other. I would have felt it.”

  Ashk leaned against the nearest tree. “You can’t see how you and Ari look at each other. For me, it’s like seeing Nora and Kief again. The way you work together, laugh together, squabble about chores. The way you both look on some mornings, it’s obvious you spent a long night in bed and didn’t spend much of that time sleeping.” She sighed, closed her eyes. “There are times when I’ve come here and seen this dark-haired woman hanging out the wash. I almost call out Nora’s name before she turns and I know it’s Ari.” She opened her eyes and fixed her gaze on Neall. “It’s easy for passion to blaze for a short time when you don’t have to consider all the small day-today things that make up the rest of a person’s life. It flares hot and burns out quick, unless it’s nourished. When it came down to a choice, Lucian couldn’t offer enough to give her a reason to stay. Consider that the next time you doubt, young Lord of the Woods. A Daughter of the House of Gaian chose you over the Lightbringer, the Lord of the Sun.”

  Neall picked up a small dead branch and idly broke it into pieces. “I don’t remember my grandmother. When did she die?”

  “She hasn’t yet.” Ashk saw his eyes widen. “She lives on Ronat Isle with her Lord of the Sea, her selky man.”

  “But —”

  “Cordell’s gift is water, but it’s the wildness of the sea that calls to her, not the quieter songs of rivers and streams. This Old Place is too far away from the sea for someone like her. By the time I came to live here, she had left for good, leaving Nora and the land in her own mother’s care.”

  Neall snapped to attention. “Came to live here? This wasn’t your Clan?”

  No matter how she turned, she was still caught in those emotional thorns. “No. But I needed _a different place _so my grandfather brought me here where I would still have kin. That’s why —”She bit her lip.

  “Why what?” Neall asked quietly.

  “I didn’t know.” The words burst out of her. “I was nineteen when Nora and Kief died. My path wasn’t something I could change, so I couldn’t keep you here with me.”

  “Ashk.” Neall reached out to touch her arm in comfort.

  She stepped away from him. “I thought it would be for you the way it had been for me. People who were kin who would become family. I thought they would take care of you.”

  “They did take care of me.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “No, they didn’t. ‘Poor relation.’ I know what that means among the gentry in the human world. They had no right to say that to you. They had no right.”

  Neall sighed. “Ari cares about me. I think she’s colored things blacker than they were.”

  “And I think you try to heap flowers over a pile of shit to cut down the stink. It doesn’t make it any less a pile of shit.”

  He said nothing for a long moment. “You told me I had to leave in order to learn the ways of my father’s people. And I did. And now I’ve come home. If I’d never gone to live with Baron Felston, I never would have known Ari. Shadows and light. Isn’t that what you keep showing me during these walks through the woods? She’s my light, Ashk.”

  “If I hadn’t left my family and gone wandering, I wouldn’t have ended up here in the western part of Sylvalan,” Kief had said. “I wouldn’t have ended up with Nora.”

  “Come on,” Neall said quietly when she didn’t respond. “I’ll walk you back to the Clan house.”

  A subtle change in the woods instantly commanded her attention. The power was old and waning, but it still called to her.

  “No,” Ashk said. “I have other business. You go home.” He studied her a moment, then bowed and turned to leave.

  “Neall.” She hesitated, then decided she could tell him this much. “Ari planted beans this year. Lots of beans. Because they’re your favorite.”

  She watched him absorb the message. Even after he left, she remained where she was, sensing his presence in the woods. When she was certain that he wouldn’t come back, she turned and followed the trails that led to the oldest part of the woods.

  She walked for several minutes, listening to the chirping of birds and the chattering of squirrels. Finally, she saw the stag, standing so still beside the girth of an old oak tree. If he’d been a true deer, his antlers would have been young and velvet-covered in this season instead of a full, mature rack. But he was one of the Fae in his other form.

  “Kernos,” she whispered. It had been many years since he’d been the Green Lord, since he’d been the Lord of the Woods. That didn’t matter. Not to her, anyway.

  She approached him slowly, bowed when she stood before him. “You honor me with your presence, Grandfather.”

  He didn’t move. Just watched her with those dark eyes.

  “There are shadows gathering in other parts of Sylvalan,” she said quietly. “If they aren’t stopped, they’ll creep into our part of the land, too.”

  He turned and walked up the trail, his left hind leg dragging a little, just as it did in his human form ever since the brain seizure three years ago. He’d regained most of his strength, but his left leg still dragged a little and his speech was a bit slurred.

  Obeying the silent command, Ashk followed him.

  The Clan where he lived was a day’s journey from here. He shouldn’t be traveling so far alone. Not anymore. Not that there was anything that would dare touch him while he was in her home woods.

  He had been there for her. Always. He had taught her to be a Lady of the Woods, and he’d trained her to be so much more.

  He was the one who had knelt beside her the first time she’d made the transformation to her other form. He was the one who had petted her, soothed her, encouraged her while the rest of her family recoiled from what she’d become. A rare form. Dangerous. Nothing was safe from her in her other form.

  She followed him until they came to a meadow deep in the heart of the woods. He bounded forward into the sunlight. She remained at the edge of the woods, in the shadows, pained by the knowledge that he was no longer fast enough to outrun a predator, no longer strong enough to stand and fight and win.

  He looked back at her, waiting.

  He used to bring her to this meadow to play. He’d change into the stag and let her chase him. When she was young, he ran just fast enough to let her almost catch him, just fast enough not to bruise her pride. When she got a little older, he ran faster, making her work to keep up with him.

  She remembered the day when she caught up to him, ran side by side with him. She remembered the day when she realized she could outrun him — and still ran beside him.

  And she remembered the day when he stopped suddenly and she ran past him. They’d stared at each other in that sunlit meadow, and she’d felt his silent, final command.

  Taking a slow,
deep breath, Ashk stepped into the meadow, changed into a shadow hound. The stag bounded away.

  Her gray, black-streaked coat stood out against the sunlit green, but in the shadows of the woods, or in the moonlight, she would blend in, a predator who wouldn’t be seen until her fangs sank into a throat. There was nothing in the woods — not stag, not wolf, not wild boar — that could stand against her in this form.

  The shadow hound raced after the stag, snarling and snapping at his heels, running just fast enough to give him the thrill of the chase but not fast enough to bruise his pride.

  Chapter Four

  Hearing the bell that rang in the Inquisitors’ study room, Ubel headed for the door that led down to the confession chamber he and the other Inquisitors had helped Master Adolfo create in this country house that had been lent to them by a Sylvalan baron. His stride was swift yet unhurried, the only outward sign of his confidence in the security of his position, which was something the other Inquisitors envied — especially since last autumn when the Master Inquisitor returned from this magic-blighted land to the safety of his own country.

  Despite his alacrity in answering the summons, he heard the bell ring again — faintly now, since he’d almost reached the stairs that led to the cellar. The Master must be feeling impatient.

  Ubel smiled. Not an indulgent smile, but a smile of relief. Adolfo had been too lenient these last few months, too _ passive. He drank too much, and he no longer exercised his rod to maintain his vigor. The battle he had fought in Sylvalan last summer had left its marks on him — both physically and mentally. But, perhaps, wringing a confession out of this particular captive had restored some of the Master’s potency.

  As Ubel entered the confession chamber, Adolfo turned to face him. The Master Inquisitor, the Witch’s Hammer, was a large man, middle-aged and scholar’s face and gentle brown eyes that never revealed the man’s razor-sharp mind or burning dedication to the task that had consumed most of his life.

  “Ah, Ubel,” Adolfo said. “My left hand.”

  There was something sharp, almost hateful, under the words.

  Ubel ignored it. It was one thing for a man like Master Adolfo to want assistance in softening a witch to confess her crimes. It was quite another to need assistance. The fight with the Gatherer had left Adolfo with a useless, dead left arm. “What is your will, Master Adolfo?”

  “I’m done with the bitch,” Adolfo replied. “She has nothing more to offer us. Take her back to the Old Place where you captured her and release her.”

  Ubel looked at the young Fae woman, who was staring at him with terror-blind eyes. She was securely strapped to the worktable, so there was nothing she could do to avoid any of the softening necessary to extract a full confession.

  “It’s doubtful there are any Fae remaining in that Old Place to see her,” Ubel said. He’d made sure of that. After he, along with a double handful of Inquisitors and guards, had killed the witches who had lived in that Old Place, his men had waited at the end of the shining road that led to Tir Alainn. When it started to close, the panic-stricken Fae who came down that road to reach the human world were easy targets. A few had escaped the arrows, but far more had fallen. The last one to stumble into the human world before the shining road closed was this young Fae female. He’d captured her and brought her back to the manor house for Master Adolfo to question.

  “It doesn’t matter if the Fae see her or not,” Adolfo said. “Someone will find her, sooner or later. She will serve as a warning to everyone in Sylvalan that even the Fae cannot escape the Inquisitors’ justice.”

  Ubel nodded, still studying the woman. “We’ll cut the bindings around her legs after we reach the Old Place.”

  “There’s no need. She can untie herself once you leave her.”

  Ubel looked at the bindings around the woman’s legs. He looked at the hands Adolfo had pounded with a mallet until all the bones had broken. He smiled. “Very good, Master Adolfo.”

  “But take the spiked bridle when you leave,” Adolfo said. “There’s no point in wasting good workmanship. And,” he added softly, “I have hope that I will need that particular bridle again for another Fae bitch.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Ubel saw Adolfo shiver, saw the way the older man’s right hand trembled as he brushed it over his head, and knew Adolfo was thinking about the Gatherer. Just as he knew she was the reason the Master Inquisitor hadn’t ventured away from this house since he’d arrived in Sylvalan a few weeks ago to oversee the continued purge of the witches in this land.

  “The barons’ council will meet at the end of next week,” Adolfo said after a moment. “Once you’re rid of the bitch, I want you to take three Inquisitors and ride to Durham. Be alert. Listen well. The procedure we introduced in the spring has been successful in solidifying the eastern barons’ position and their alliance with our own goal to rid the land of magic. Now they have to convince the other barons in Sylvalan to follow their lead. I want to know who is resistant. They will have to be dealt with.”

  And we’ll walk the streets of Durham pretending to be visitors or merchants from Wolfram, trying to eavesdrop on conversations instead of being able to demand answers from any man, no matter his rank. “Yes, Master Adolfo,” Ubel replied, then regretted saying anything at that moment. Adolfo wouldn’t ignore the surly tone.

  “You have some objection?” Adolfo asked sharply.

  Ubel stiffened; then he turned to face Adolfo. “It insults our great work that we must hide who we are, that we must sneak in and out of the villages here like petty thieves.”

  Adolfo stared at him long enough to make Ubel uneasy. Then he said gently, “Last year, we came to this land as honest men to help the barons eliminate the magic that stood in men’s way. We did our work openly, educated the villagers and peasants alike so that they would understand what vile creatures witches truly are and why other females needed to be disciplined to keep them from being ensnared by the Evil One. Because we did the work openly, good men died, Ubel, including my own nephew. When it was over, I was the only one who was still alive.” His right hand lightly touched his left arm. “And even I, the strongest among us, the Master Inquisitor, the Witch’s Hammer …even I did not escape untouched. So we must fight in other ways this time. We must be cautious, careful. We must use all our skills to soften the land and the people until they are ready to yield to everything we will teach them. And they will yield, Ubel. They will yield because there will be no turning back. Then men will rule as they were meant to. But until that time comes, I will not trust the lives of my Inquisitors to the assurances of Sylvalan barons. Not again. So, for now, you must cloak your honesty and do the work secretly.”

  Chastened, Ubel looked at the floor. “Yes, Master Adolfo.”

  Adolfo walked to the chamber door. He turned, looked back at Ubel. “Keep me informed — and take care, Ubel. The Fae’s presence in this land makes our work twice as dangerous.”

  Ubel looked up, stood straight and tall, and said fiercely, “We will rid the world of the witches and the Fae.”

  “Yes,” Adolfo replied, giving Ubel a small but approving smile, “we will.”

  Ubel waited until he could no longer hear Adolfo’s footsteps before he turned his attention back to the woman strapped on the table.

  Her hair, dirty and tangled now, was a plain brown, but there were lighter streaks in it that were almost as blond as his own hair. Her eyes were a greener blue than his own eyes, and her face was shaped just differently enough that she would never be considered pretty in the human world. But it was her pointed ears that revealed the animal inside her — the animal that made her less than human and, therefore, expendable. If men could not control it or rule over it, a thing had no place in the world. Which meant her kind had to be eliminated because the Fae would never be ruled by men.

  And this one wasn’t even significant among her own kind. When he’d ordered his men to capture her, he’d dropped his bow and stripped off his coat, throwing it
over her head to confuse her if she tried to change into her other form to escape them. A little brown bird had fluttered beneath his coat.

  One of the men had emptied a food sack, and they’d put her in it. He’d felt her frantic movements all through the ride back to the country house.

  Just an insignificant little brown bird — with valuable information.

  “Change back to your human form,” Adolfo said. “We simply want to talk to you. We want to understand the Fae. Change back so we can talk, and then we’ll let you go.”

  And, oh, after a bit of softening, how that little bird had sung.

  The witches weren’t just the key to keeping the magic alive in the Old Places, they were the key that kept the shining roads open, giving the Fae access to the human world. That was why, after the witches in Wolfram had been eliminated, the Fae had disappeared, as well. By destroying one, the Inquisitors could destroy both kinds of creatures whose presence threatened men’s ability to rule.

  Turning away from the Fae woman, Ubel walked over to the bell rope and pulled it so that the bell would ring in the sequence that told Assistant Inquisitors that their presence was required. He would let the Assistants bring the woman up to the wagon while he prepared for the journey to Durham.

  He would be Adolfo’s eyes and ears. He would be the Master’s left hand. And he would make sure he was in a position to know which barons might try to thwart the Master’s great plans for this land.

  Chapter Five

  Lyrra followed behind the packhorse Aiden led. The forest trail they’d taken after leaving the main road wasn’t wide enough for them to ride side by side. Just as well.

  Tears stung her eyes. One spilled over, ran down her cheek. She brushed it away, refusing to give in to grief. Aiden would be grieving, too, but both of them needed to stay alert.