I was happy to have the warm, dry clothing. The base of the outfit was a pair of wool pants and a loose, comfortable shirt of the same material. A heavy jacket, lined with some kind of fur, laced over the blouse. I pulled the boots up over the pants to just beneath my knees; they too were fur lined, amazingly warm and comfortable. Once I was ready, Pratl escorted me to the largest hut at the center of the camp, to meet with the leader of the Frektane. I could only hope that Pratl was right and I would be allowed to stay; I did not know what I would do otherwise.
Frektane was still physically young, his body lean, but his face was marked by a series of scars across his left cheek and brow. I had never seen a wolf with such striking blue eyes; they had to be the reason for the tribe’s name. If I had not been raised among serpents and falcons, whose eyes were often jeweled tones seen nowhere else in nature, I would have called such eyes impossible.
“Oliza Shardae Cobriana,” Frektane greeted me stiffly.
“Forgive my father for not standing,” another man said, making me jump as I noticed him for the first time. Also whipcord lean and obviously strong, and with the same vivid blue eyes as Frektane, this had to be his son, Velyo. “He injured his leg earlier this winter, and it still pains him.”
The words were polite, but something about his tone made me feel as if an insult had been spoken.
Frektane responded by instantly rising to his feet. “My son makes much of a minor ailment,” he responded, glaring at the younger wolf before he turned to me.
Sensing an argument I did not know the heart of, I did my best not to get into the middle of it. “If I have come at an awkward moment, I apologize.”
“My father and I were simply discussing … matters of little importance,” Velyo answered. His father said something to him in their native tongue, and he smiled. “Kind, Father, of you to offer. But since I was the one who insisted we let Oliza stay, I will assume full responsibility for her.”
“How long are you here?” Frektane asked me, ignoring Velyo.
“I was brought into this area against my will,” I explained. “I fear traveling too soon may make me sick again. If it is not a hardship, I ask your permission to remain for a few days, until I am stronger.”
Frektane made a disgusted sound, but before he could speak, Velyo assured me, “A few days will prove no hardship for us.”
Again Frektane grumbled to his son in their language. This time, Velyo replied, “You are alpha, leader of this land and its people. Say the word, and I will see to it that everyone too weak to provide for the pack is removed.”
He had hit a nerve, for suddenly Frektane crossed the room, favoring his right leg just slightly. “Watch yourself, Velyo.”
“You’re weak, Father,” Velyo snarled. “This winter has been good to the pack, because I have led the hunts down the river. Hunts your injury kept you from. Before you talk of denying Oliza a few days to rest, consider how many of our resources you devour. You’ve been slower every run this season. The cold is in your bones. You’re old, wolf.”
I jumped back as Frektane threw Velyo into the wall. “Not old enough that a pup like you can challenge me.”
Velyo snarled at his father as he pushed himself back to his feet; then he glanced at me. “I’ll escort Oliza while she is here.”
“See that you do.”
“I apologize for that little scene,” he said, as if I had witnessed some minor spat, instead of part of an ongoing power struggle between father and son. “You may think our ways harsh, but in this kind of world, it is necessary to rule firmly. Laxity is what causes a pack to starve in the winter. My father’s strength has been failing since he was injured last fall. I won’t let him bring our entire pack down by refusing to admit it.”
“I suppose I’m lucky to live in a more moderate climate,” I answered, trying to remain polite despite my desire to argue. The wolves had different values than I did. As Velyo had said, this pack lived in a difficult land, where strength was necessary for survival. “Wyvern’s Court has never had problems with starvation, for which I am grateful.”
Velyo nodded. I couldn’t tell if it was in agreement or approval or neither.
I wondered how Kalisa was doing. If she had needed my parents’ support, what had happened when they had suddenly been pulled back to Wyvern’s Court to deal with events there after I had disappeared?
Velyo seemed to be waiting for me to speak again, so I searched for a safe, neutral question. “How many people are in Frektane? It seems so quiet.”
“Few more than a dozen winter here,” he answered. “The weaker ones separate and travel south, nearer to your court. They trade among the human cities or stay with other, more southern packs. You have probably seen them with the Vahamil, though I imagine your position leaves you little time to idle with common wolves. In spring or summer they will return here to the main encampment.”
“What about the children?”
“They travel if they are old enough,” he answered. “Otherwise, they stay here and people such as Ginna take care of them. Mostly they stay out of the way. Father does not like for them to get underfoot.” Wyvern’s Court had such a different opinion about children that I could not immediately think of an appropriate answer. Luckily Velyo chose that moment to offer, “If you would like to get word to your people, our relations with the Vahamil are good enough that they would not object to our sending a messenger through their lands to Wyvern’s Court. You can wait here until your guards arrive to see you safely home.”
“I would appreciate that,” I said, and felt some of the tension in my neck begin to dissolve. A messenger from the Frektane could travel more quickly than I would be able to even in perfect health, which meant that my people would hear from me sooner. It had already been too long. “Do you know anything about Kalisa’s condition? She was injured shortly before I was taken from Wyvern’s Court.”
“Injured?” Velyo asked. “I hadn’t heard. Do you know how serious it is?”
I shook my head. “Serious enough that she wanted to meet with my parents, but I don’t know more than that.”
“Perhaps I will accompany you when you travel south, to check in on Vahamil.” His thoughtful tone gave me a chill before his expression cleared. “In the meantime, join me for some dinner. You look half-starved.”
The main encampment of the Frektane tribe was a very somber place, especially compared to the Vahamil’s near my home. In addition to despising little children running about, making noise and getting underfoot, the alpha also disapproved of “frivolous” activities such as dancing and singing, which had always kept Kalisa’s tribe active and alight with laughter.
“Someone will bring my father his supper. He prefers to eat in solitude,” Velyo explained to me as we entered a central hut where the air was filled with the scents of roasting meats.
A young woman tended the hearth, but she stood the instant she saw Velyo, brushing ash from her hands. Two others sat at a long table in the back of the room, and they also stood hastily.
“This is Lameta’s first winter in Frektane,” Velyo told me, nodding to the hearth mistress. He greeted her in their native language, and she gave a half curtsy, never looking away from him. There was respect in her eyes, but I could tell she was also wary. I tried to keep an open mind, though from what I had seen and heard so far, I would not have wanted to be one of Frektane’s and Velyo’s subjects. They ruled with a fist that was a little too iron for my comfort.
We were served roast venison, with a warm, sweet sauce, and hot spiced wine.
“I’ll warn you, meals in the winter can be somewhat repetitive,” Velyo said apologetically. “I suspect Lameta dipped into the fruit stores tonight after she heard we had company.”
As we turned to sit at the table, the two who had been sitting there went to serve themselves. Others came in from outside, as if they had been waiting for a dinner bell, and finally Lameta herself took a plate.
They had been waiting for Velyo, I
realized. The pack didn’t eat until its alpha had taken his share. I knew that law from my studies, though it was one of many that Kalisa enforced only in formal situations. Usually she preferred to give the first share to whichever hunter or tradesman had contributed the most to the meal.
“I have never been to your Wyvern’s Court,” Velyo said. “Tell me of it?”
I did my best to describe my homeland, from dancers to singers, merchants to scholars. Velyo listened quietly, nodding occasionally or quirking a brow when I said something he found curious.
“Do you have a mate waiting for you at home?” he asked finally.
His tone was innocent enough, but there was something about the way he looked at me that made my skin crawl, as if a hundred spiders had suddenly scampered across it.
“I have not yet chosen my king,” I answered.
“I had forgotten that your people are born to royalty, or marry into it. It is a precious luxury.”
“I assume that the alpha position in the Frektane must be hereditary, since the pack’s name obviously refers to your line.”
He sounded as if he was reciting as he explained, “It is not a matter of birthright, but breeding and education. If one of my wolves proves himself better qualified to lead the Frektane after my father no longer can, I will have to step down, but like my father, and his before him, throughout my childhood I was given the lessons I would need to take over as alpha once it is time. For nine generations we have led this pack, each Frektane alpha choosing a strong mate who will add worthy qualities to the bloodline. My mother could bring down a wild boar in her human form while armed with no more than a dagger. She could track antelope through pouring rain, and shoot an owl from the sky in the dead of a moonless night. My father has done a great many unwise things in his life, but choosing his mate was not one of them. I only hope I can choose a mate who will prove as fine a queen as my mother was.
“She truly earned the right to run by my father’s side. It is good that she did not live to see him in his current state.” He hesitated, then added, “Though at least she would have had the courage to put him down.”
I had no desire to address the possible euthanasia of a man who by my standards was perfectly healthy. No wonder Kalisa had called her allies to her side when she had been injured, if this was how neighboring packs—not to mention her own—would view her weakness.
I steered the conversation back to a topic I understood all too well; I was the heir of not just one but two monarchies, and I understood the care that had to be taken in choosing a mate. “Have you made your decision?” I asked
“No.” He stood up abruptly, without bothering with the dishes. Someone would clean up after him, I was sure. “There are women in the Frektane who are good hunters, women who are good leaders, women who are intelligent and women who are brave. It is rare that one finds all those traits in a single place. I thought I had once, but … I was incorrect.”
Betia? I wondered. Pratl had said that she had had a falling out with Velyo. But the look in Velyo’s eyes warned me not to inquire further.
I was exhausted from my travels, even more tired by how carefully I had tried to watch my words with Velyo, and worried I had accentuated Kalisa’s troubles by revealing her possible vulnerability. I was relieved when Velyo offered to escort me back to my room, because I would be able to rest.
The doorway was covered by heavy furs, and Velyo brushed them aside, allowing me to slip through the narrow opening. Someone had built the fire up before we arrived, so the room was warm despite the winter chill outside.
Velyo followed me inside and then, as if just deciding, said, “I think I’ll join you.”
“Excuse me?”
Had he been serpiente, accustomed to sleeping innocently among friends, I might have assumed that his offer was platonic, but as far as I was aware, the wolves did not share that particular custom.
He walked toward me, his stride graceful and soundless. “I said, I think I’ll join you. It’s a cold night.”
I took a step back, but the room was small, and I only succeeded in hitting the backs of my knees on a trunk that sat at the foot of the bed. “I’m sorry if I somehow gave the wrong impression, but—”
He caught my hand and kissed the back of it. “You are half serpiente, are you not?”
Insulted, I fought the urge to deliver an equally offensive and thus hardly politic reply. Instead I used his own logic against him. “I am also half avian.”
He shrugged. “You are also a guest in my camp. I thought you would be grateful.”
“I am grateful,” I answered, trying unsuccessfully to take my hand back. “However, I also—”
He stepped forward despite my protests, trapping me against the trunk. “You also?”
“Let go of me.”
“Relax,” he whispered.
“I am not interested,” I said bluntly, feeling my heart trapped in my throat. “Now kindly release me.”
I caught his wrist when he reached for me with his other hand, which made him chuckle a little. “Princess—” He yanked his hand back as he tugged on my wrist, so I ended up stumbling and falling against his chest. “I’m not sure you appreciate your position. There are many women who would be jealous of—”
“I’m not one of them,” I growled. The last of my respect for him had disappeared, and with it my trust that he wouldn’t force this. “I said, let go.”
When he didn’t, I twisted, driving an elbow into his stomach as I attempted to hop over the trunk and back into the center of the room. His grip loosened for a moment, but he didn’t quite release me; instead, he twisted my arm behind my back so that I fell, barely avoiding hitting my head against the corner of the trunk when my knees struck the ground.
Before I recovered, he pulled me to my feet and then shoved me toward the mound of blankets piled on the bed.
Furious and frightened at the same time, I managed to lash out once more, striking him in the chest with the heel of my boot. He doubled over, spitting out a string of curses in his own language that I never wanted to have translated.
I hurried back into the cold night before he could follow. I would just have to hope I was well enough to get by. I couldn’t risk staying at the mercy of Velyo Frektane. One or the other of us wasn’t likely to survive it.
“Oliza?”
I hesitated when I heard Pratl’s voice. “I have to leave,” I said quickly. “Thank you for your hospitality, and please thank Ginna.”
He glanced toward the cabin I had just fled, and winced. Then he drew a knife, and for a moment I thought he meant to stop me. Instead, he offered it to me, handle first. “Just to help you hunt on your way. Don’t use it on him.” He looked again toward the doorway as I took the weapon. “Go. I’ll try to delay him if he comes after you.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“You should not travel long alone,” Pratl warned. “You are not well.”
“I don’t think I have a choice.”
He nodded reluctantly. “Go. Be well.”
I ran, for the moment concerned more with removing myself from Frektane land than with choosing a destination.
Only after I was back in the woods did shapeshifting occur to me, and then I remembered that I did not have my wings.
Three weeks to Wyvern’s Court, Pratl had said; it would be more than three weeks if I had to travel alone without supplies through unfamiliar land. I knew that Wyvern’s Court had to be south from here, but I had never made such a trek by myself.
I tried desperately to take my wyvern form but again felt only a queasy rolling in my stomach. Desperate to reassure myself, I reached for my cobra form—and found nothing. Nothing.
The poison lingers. Dear sky, I hope it won’t linger forever. I knew that a similar poison was used by the dancers’ guild when a punishment required someone to be held in one form for some time, but that wore off in a few days at most. I hoped this would be the same. I had lost my avian form; I could not l
ose my cobra, too.
Had the lions stolen the poison while in Wyvern’s Court? I wondered. Or had their employer given it to them? They might even have had it already.
South, Oliza, my scattered wits reminded me. You don’t have the information you need to find answers, and you won’t have any more information until you get home. Your people need you. You’ve no choice but to walk, so walk. My fury at Velyo and at my situation in general kept me warm, and I made good time as I jogged and walked south through the night.
It was nearly sunrise when I grudgingly accepted that I needed to sleep. I wished I could make a fire, but my hands were shaking and I could barely keep my eyes open; the idea of searching for dry wood and struggling to make a spark was overwhelming. Fortunately, this night was not as bitter as the one before, and I was able to find shelter in a warm nook where a pine had been knocked down across a boulder.
I curled up inside, my stomach rumbling. I would need to figure out how to find food and make a fire later. But for now, sleep.
I woke near noon to find a furry gray-brown ball at the entrance to my little den. It lifted its muzzle and licked me when I blinked at it in confusion.
“Morning, Betia,” I greeted with a smile of relief. “Thank you for finding me and guarding my rest.”
The wolf yawned, stretched, shook herself and let out a little bark. Then she plodded to a large deer that she had obviously taken down earlier and saved for me.
“Thank you,” I said. And thank you, too, Pratl, for the knife, I thought as I clumsily butchered the deer. The tree I had slept under provided dry wood, so I managed to cook as much of the meat as we could consume right then.
Betia watched me with an intelligence and patience that said she knew what I was doing. I spoke to her as I worked, and while she didn’t respond, I had a feeling she understood much of what I said, too.
“I can understand why you ran away,” I confided when we began to walk again. The afternoon was bitter, but at least it wasn’t snowing. “I couldn’t stand Velyo, either.”
The Shapeshifters: The Kiesha'ra of the Den of Shadows Page 50
