I cross the room to take a closer look. When I draw near, it becomes clear that the movement is not from the shirt, but from some loose lauvan that cling to the neckline of the shirt. They are fading already from being away from their source for too long, but they still hold traces of their original orange color.
These lauvan are from Anna’s necklace. What a find—maybe I can finally get some information about these mysterious amulets that keep cropping up in my path. I carefully grasp the center of one lauvan and pick it up. It hangs limply in midair, wriggling in a feeble way. It’s very fragile. I close my eyes and attempt to glean some knowledge of its origins.
I expect to get a sense of location, or a pull toward a certain direction. Even, if I were lucky and knew the originator of these lauvan, a sense of personality. What I get instead is blankness. Blankness, and a faint whisper of wordless murmuring.
What the hell? Maybe the lauvan is too far gone to be of any use. I toss it down in disgust. Anna will be able to keep her secrets for another night.
“Merry? Are you coming in?”
Anna’s voice makes me forget my annoyance at the useless lauvan. I take a deep breath.
“This is your last chance to walk away from this bad idea, Merlin,” I chide myself quietly. “You could go back to your hotel room, watch a movie, go to sleep, wake up nice and early for your work on the lauvan. It’s not too late.”
But it is too late. My breath comes more quickly at the sound of running water from the shower. Anna’s lauvan-touching abilities beckon to me.
I want the novelty. I want to feel something I haven’t felt ten thousand times before. I want to feel alive and fresh, young and new, like the world is full of limitless possibilities and is waiting for me to discover them. For a moment, when Anna touched my lauvan, it almost felt like that again.
There’s no choice anymore. It’s too late.
I strip off my shirt, hop out of my pants and socks, and pad over to the bathroom. The shower stall is steamy but Anna’s dark silhouette appears through the foggy glass. I slide in behind her so we both face the showerhead. The only thing she wears is her necklace.
I don’t care what she’s hiding, or how she’s able to use the lauvan. I only care that she can.
“Touch me again,” I whisper in her ear, and slide my hands down her hips. “Like you did at the mountain.”
CHAPTER XIII
Dreaming
I awaken to a sharp pain when my back rolls over onto a stone. I gingerly shift off the stone and open my eyes. The half-full moon has almost set, and it filters through a swaying oak to fill the meadow with dappled light and shifting shadows. The wind rustles through trees in the forest behind me. I shiver in the coolness and look for my cloak to cover our naked bodies.
Or just my naked body. Vivienne is nowhere to be seen.
I flop back down to the ground in disappointment, only to be met by the same unyielding stone as before. I curse and sit up, reaching for my clothes which have seemingly scattered themselves far and wide. The search for my boot takes too much time before my ale-befuddled mind remembers to feel it out using the lauvan.
Where did Vivienne go? Did she sneak back to her temporary quarters with the other women? She certainly isn’t the regretful type and she seemed to enjoy herself. The Roman custom of containing their women never really caught on in these parts, and she isn’t one of the timid ones. I scuff my boot against the ground, sighing. Who am I to chastise Arthur for not knowing much about women? I’m not doing so well myself. The blind lead the blind nowhere fast.
I shake my head, trying to formulate a plan. Head back to my own bed, yes. Good idea. I latch onto the coherent thought and push through the grass in the meadow, its faint lauvan waving mildly in the moonlight. On the path to the villa, I brush against an errant lauvan. It jolts me to wakefulness and my nerves jangle. With difficulty, I focus and feel out the lauvan. Another jolt until I hold it firmly, and the sensation settles into wild fear and excitement. I know the owner of this particular thread. Vivienne passed this way, and discarded pieces of lauvan in her wake. It can happen in times of great emotion. The lauvan won’t last long—they’ll likely dissolve by sunrise—but they should last long enough for me to see where Vivienne went.
What happened to her? Now I’m afraid—did a wild animal scare her off? But then why the excitement? I pick up my pace and follow the lauvan fragments down the valley toward the villa. Each fragment I touch jolts me anew, and the last effects of the ale leave me.
The fragments grow more frequent on the approach to the villa, as if Vivienne were practically panting with excitement. I’m a little miffed—where were the lauvan fragments when I was pleasuring her? I don’t remember quite this volume back in the meadow. I sigh and vow to keep my big bragging mouth shut around Arthur in the future.
The main door to the great hall is ajar. I slip through and survey the room. Many of the visitors have simply keeled over in ale-induced stupors and now lie on the floor snoring. The torches are all extinguished and the fire is low. I pick my way through the bodies to follow the fragments. Every touch of fragment causes me to wince, the jolts so strong as to be almost painful. They lead me directly to the head table and behind it. I notice with approval that Arthur is not sprawled on the floor behind his seat. Puzzled, I wonder what Vivienne was doing here. Until I look up, that is.
The banner is gone.
No eagle stares disdainfully down at me, no serpent hisses a silent warning. The wall is nothing but blank stone with two blunt spikes where the banner used to hang.
My stomach clenches in horror. With the banner gone, stolen in the middle of the night, no less, Arthur will look weak and unprotected. The banner is validation that he is his father’s son in spirit as well as in body, and that he comes from a strong Roman lineage. And to have it disappear during the feast—there’s no way we can hide the fact that it’s gone.
Why did Vivienne take it? I look for more fragments but the trail ends here. All her worries must have been in getting to this point. Once she had the banner in her hands, the worst part was done. I imagine a look of calm satisfaction on her face and I clench my jaw in anger. Now I have to find her, before dawn, and the trail of lauvan leads nowhere but here.
I have another trick up my sleeve, though. Because of our lovemaking, we forged a connection that goes beyond those moments. I look down to my chest and see the expected rope of lauvan that leads away from me, toward the door of the villa. The threads of intertwined lavender and deep brown that join Vivienne and me are frail and tenuous, but that’s only to be expected from such a short-lived encounter where lust was paramount and love only a notion. I have seen the connections between two people truly in love—the lauvan-threads that span the distance between them are thick and solid, like knotted tree trunks or heavy rope. I pluck the lauvan connecting Vivienne and me. They will fade and dissolve over time without constant renewal. But today, they are enough.
And these tentative lauvan will lead me straight to Vivienne.
I pick my way through the snoring lords and their retainers, and slide out the door without moving it—I know from experience that it creaks dreadfully. Once outside, I check the lauvan—she’s heading due west. My eyes close to concentrate. Slowly, I sense her distance from me. She’s further away than expected.
Luckily, I know how to move fast when I need to.
Summoning my focus, I carefully touch my own lauvan with my fingertips. I manipulate them while I concentrate on the form I’m aiming to transition to. The transition is slow at first, but then with a rush my body melts into its new shape. My antlered form leaps in the air and springs forward to follow the lauvan toward Vivienne.
It doesn’t take me long to overtake her. My keen ears hear her panting as she walks quickly along the road. The panting that sounded so lovely only hours before now simply annoys me. I allow my body to switch back to its usual form, which it springs into with a feeling of release. I quietly walk behind Vivienne unti
l she is only ten paces away.
“Vivienne.”
She whirls around in a panic, a short dagger held in her shaking hand. Her lauvan sizzle out from her body like a porcupine. A little tension releases when she recognizes me, but not much. She keeps her dagger pointed toward me.
“Merlin. How did you find me?”
“Does it matter?” I take a step toward her, and then another. She holds her ground. “The more important question is, why did you take the banner?” A thought strikes me for the first time. The damn ale must have sapped my intellect until now. “Who are you working for?”
Vivienne worries her bottom lip before answering.
“The lady Morgan. She has as much right to the banner as Arthur does. More, in fact, since she’s Uther’s eldest child.”
“Morgan.” I shake my head, baffled. “What does she want with the banner? And if she has so much right to it, why did she send you to sneak it out in the dead of night?”
Vivienne lifts her chin in defiance.
“She knew Arthur would never part with it willingly.”
“Does she think it will give her power over the warriors? That they will somehow bow to her because she carries a moldy old blanket?” I make light of the banner, although I know its symbolism is important. But it’s not as important as action. “Arthur has made a name for himself. He’s won numerous battles, and has earned the lords’ respect. The banner is only a symbol. In Morgan’s hands, it would mean nothing.”
Vivienne stares at me, her expression unreadable. She keeps her dagger pointed at me, but her lauvan start to dance in agitation. She knows our little conversation is coming to a head. She wasn’t prepared to fight, only to run.
“She deserves it.” Vivienne’s voice is only a whisper. “She needs it.”
“I’m sorry, Vivienne. I can’t let you take it.” I run my fingers through the trails of lauvan that dangle and swirl from the banner. It is made of woolen threads, ancient but still from a living creature at one point. The lauvan are weak but present. I keep my eyes fixed on Vivienne’s, and my fingers gather as many of the banner’s lauvan as I can manage.
With a swift yank, I pull the lauvan toward me. The banner sails out of Vivienne’s startled arms and straight into my waiting hands.
Vivienne gasps with disbelief.
“The rumors are true. You do have magic.”
I raise an eyebrow as I fold the banner.
“You could call it that, I suppose.” I tuck the banner under my arm and wriggle a ring off the smallest finger of my left hand, a simple golden band with blue enamel worked into the surface. It was part of a larger gift of gold and silver from a grateful lord on the edge of the war council’s range, whose homestead we protected last spring. The ring is no more than a bauble I took a fancy to, although it’s worth more than my intended purpose for it. I offer it to Vivienne. “Here. Your wages for your work. I suggest you leave now and don’t come back.”
A long moment passes while she searches my face. She takes the ring without looking at it.
“You’re going to let me go.”
The memories of the last few days, and especially of last night, fill my head. I look down at the lauvan between us. How can I bring her to punishment when there is this connection between us, however ephemeral? What Arthur doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
I sigh.
“Call me sentimental.”
CHAPTER XIV
I awake with only the foggiest recollection of where I am. I open my eyes and wait for them to focus on my surroundings. Before they do, my leg moves against the slither of satin sheets. Of course. I swing my legs to the ground and stumble over to Anna’s bathroom.
On the way out, the green glow of the microwave’s clock informs me that it’s ten past four. I shiver. It’s far too early to be awake, and far too cold to be out of bed. I take the last seven paces to the bed and slide in, intent on nestling over to Anna to find some warmth.
But the satin on Anna’s side is cold, and I can’t feel Anna’s soft body anywhere in bed.
“Anna?” Where the hell is she? Does she ever sleep? There’s no answer from the living room, not that I expected one. I didn’t see her when I passed through.
I flop onto my back. Now I’m awake—curiosity and mild annoyance work like caffeine on my system. Where did she go? Yesterday morning she was at Mt. Linnigan when I found her. Would she go back?
And a better question is—why?
I jump out of bed, now too intensely curious to even consider going back to sleep. I throw on my clothes, neatly laid over the sofa arm since I undressed myself last night. The door makes only the slightest click when it closes behind me.
Outside, I pause to consider my next move. There are a few different ways I could follow Anna, but I recall my dream and decide to stick with the easiest. From my abdomen extends a thin rope of lauvan, heading northwest. The intermixing of Anna’s rich purple and my own chocolate brown is pleasing to the eye, and I admire it for a moment before focusing on my next task.
When I touch the lauvan connecting us, they tell me that Anna is some distance away. I’d better transform. No one is awake at this hour but I look around anyway, then gather the necessary configuration of lauvan and yank.
A few moments later, I’m soaring high above the roofs of Wallerton. The black tips of the Three Peaks are silhouetted against the cold light of the night sky. The Milky Way is clearly visible in this remote mountain town as a smear across the zenith. It’s easy to forget just how big and endless the night sky is when it’s always hidden by the lights of the city. For most of my life my sky looked like this—I don’t realize until I’m out of the city how much I miss it.
The leftmost peak of Mt. Linnigan stands quiet and steam-free for now. I still have a few hours left before it starts up again, once the cable re-knots itself. I flap my wings to pick up speed. Since I’m up anyway, I’ll quickly satisfy my curiosity about Anna and then untangle the cable again. Maybe it won’t take me long. It will buy me more time, especially important with Jen visiting the site later this morning. I’ll feel out the presence first, though. I don’t like mysterious forces throwing me around without cause. Or with cause—no one tosses me around without retaliation.
The lauvan lead me straight to Michelson Lookout—no surprise there. But why is Anna so fascinated with the volcano? Is it just some sort of thrill-seeking urge? I find it hard to fathom why anyone would rise at four in the morning, hike into an off-limits park—Anna can’t fly, after all—only to sit and stare at the now-slumbering mountain.
When I’m close—the lauvan vibrate with a higher frequency when I brush them with a wingtip—I dip down into the trees and glide silently to the clearing at the lookout. I debate whether or not to change back to my human form—merlins are quieter with better hearing—but I don’t want to be distracted by bird instincts I can’t control. A great horned owl could make falcon-me zip away in fright.
A brief melting of my body and I crouch on the forest floor, breathing hard from the effort of holding my bird-form. Slowly I stand and creep forward on silent footfalls. I learned long ago how to move through the woods undetected. When you’re hunting and all that stands between you and the meat you need to survive the winter is your ability to step quietly, you learn fast or perish. I’m a survivor.
I’m lucky—a few thick bushes stand between me and the lookout clearing, perfect cover to remain undetected. The lauvan pass from me directly through the bushes to the other side. Anna is straight ahead. I creep around the bush and peek from behind a thick-trunked pine tree.
Anna sits cross-legged on the ground facing the mountain, right in front of a bench and beside the glowing lauvan-cable. I’m positioned so I can see her profile—her uplifted chin, her raised chest, her unbound hair cascading in a glorious river down her back. Her eyes are closed and she sways gently from side to side, as if she is underwater and waves push her to and fro. Three candles in a triangle formation before her illuminate he
r face.
I notice all this in the second before my eyes are drawn to the object between the candles. I stare, fascinated, captivated.
Anna’s necklace lies in a bundle on the ground. Last night I had glimpses of it in the dark, but my preoccupation didn’t allow for a close inspection. Now, however, it is clearly lit by the candlelight.
Or, it would be visible if it weren’t completely and utterly covered by lauvan. Bright orange strands lie so thickly over the surface of the amulet that it appears to me as a ball of orange twine. I have no idea what the pendant is—it could be a diamond or a locket or a plastic rhinestone for all I know. A thin stream of lauvan connect the necklace to the adjacent cable. Lauvan surrounding the necklace writhe and twist with great agitation. At least, if the lauvan were attached to a person I would say the person were agitated. I don’t know what it means for an object. Generally, object-lauvan calmly swirl unless they are being worshiped. I look sharply at Anna. Is that what she’s doing? Is this what Sylvana was warning me about?
I don’t have to wonder for long. Anna keeps her eyes closed but speaks in a powerful, authoritative voice.
“Spirits! Come forth! Anna Green invites you!”
Invoking spirits? That’s what Sylvana did. What the hell are these women playing at? Do they think there are actually elementals on some other plane of existence that will answer them? I shiver, remembering Sylvana’s strange reaction and words. I’ve never seen any tangible evidence of a spirit world, although I’ve known many fine men and women who swear it’s there. Surely I would have seen something by now, after a millennium and a half of life on this earth. The memory of Sylvana’s invocation springs to my mind. What did she hear? Why did she mention my father?
At Anna’s words the lauvan of the necklace pulse three times, giving off a brilliant flash of silvery light each time. Anna doesn’t notice, of course—her eyes are closed, but either way it’s the action of lauvan, invisible to all but me.
Ignition Page 11
