The Night Voice (5 page)

Wynn turned back before Shade entered, but Shade stalled in the doorway at the sight of her father, Chap.

“In . . . now,” Wynn whispered.

Shade's jowls wrinkled at that, though she padded in three more steps before stopping again.

“I have something to show you,” Wynn said to Wayfarer, and then leaned down to touch Shade's back as she closed her eyes.

There was one relevant past moment she shared in kind with Shade. Majay-hì, who used memory-speak among their own kind, had far more vivid powers of recollection. Wynn knew so from having shared in Shade's memories of what they had experienced together. She opened her eyes to meet Shade's crystalline, sky blue ones watching her without blinking.

“Show her,” Wynn said, cocking her head toward Wayfarer, “and be nice about it.”

Shade wrinkled her jowls again as she turned toward the girl.

Wayfarer backed up against the bedside. “What are you doing?”

“Something words can't do as well,” Wynn answered. “Don't be afraid. Shade has something I want you to see . . . experience . . . and it is nothing frightening, I swear.”

Shade crept in on Wayfarer and stood waiting. When the girl finally reached to touch the side of Shade's face . . .

Wynn couldn't help but remember once more.

When she, Shade, and Chane, along with Ore-Locks, had gone to Vreuvillä's home in the forest, the priestess had stopped and tensed for an instant. A circlet of braided raw shéot'a strips held back her silver-streaked hair. That hair was also too dark for a Lhoin'na, let alone an an'Cróan—just like Wayfarer. She was also deeply tanned from her life out in the wild. Standing there in her pants, high soft boots, and a thong-belted jerkin, all made of darkened hide, she was small for her people. She looked like some wild spirit embodied in the flesh of an elf, neither truly Lhoin'na nor an'Cróan.

Though there were faint lines in her face, she did not move or act like an old one, yet her very presence carried the weight of long years. One of the pack who flanked her drew near, and in the same instant, she looked down . . . and touched that silver-gray female.

Vreuvillä's large amber eyes lifted again, though her long fingers still
combed lightly between the tall ears of the silver-gray majay-hì—and it followed her gaze. She stared beyond Wynn as her nostrils flared once, as if she were both seeing and smelling something that wasn't there. Something had passed between the priestess and one of her pack.

Wayfarer cringed back against the bedside, staring at Shade. And those bright, fearful eyes turned on Wynn.

“What—what—,” the girl stuttered.

“Osha isn't the only one,” Wynn began, “who has a reason to go to the lands of Lhoin'na. You are not as alone—or as ‘lost'—as you thought. That isn't what that name . . . that other name . . . might mean.”

Wayfarer peered cautiously at Shade without a word.

That is enough for now.

Wynn looked to Chap.

We tell Shade last, once Wayfarer and Osha accept what they must do. I will see the three of them partway there, and thereby keep our youngest ones out of harm's way. That leaves us both with one less worry.

One less but not none, Wynn noted as she thought of whom she had to face now in all of Chap's scheming. Magiere and Leesil, in being forced to accept Wayfarer's being sent away, would be only slightly worse than Shade for being sent off with the young pair. And at the thought of dealing with Magiere next, Chap went on . . .

It will not be your last time. While I am away, it falls on you to keep Magiere and Leesil from recklessness, to keep them safe as long as possible.

Wynn felt so tired. All she wanted to do was curl up in a bed and sleep, but that was not going to happen.

What had the Chein'âs really intended for Osha by giving him a weapon of a make from a land halfway across the world? And why in the same place where there was a woman who potentially had the same ability as Wayfarer, who bore a hated name given by ancient spirits of another of the five races? Those thoughts gave Wynn a quick chill.

In all of this, both Osha and Chane would be away for a long while. She still couldn't see what to do concerning their feelings for her—and hers for them. At least she could escape that, but not forever. If there was a forever.

Whatever came in the end, it would be Magiere and possibly Leesil who would have to face the final challenge. But with all others involved, someone had to get them that point.

That fell upon Chap . . . and Wynn.

F
our nights later, Chane stood on the docks of the Suman Empire's capital port, preparing to board a ship for a long journey in the company of a majay-hì who hated him. Osha, Wayfarer, and Shade were joining them on the voyage as well, though they would go only partway to another destination. Somehow—and Chane was still not quite sure how—Wynn had convinced Osha to accompany Wayfarer to the forests of the Lhoin'na.

Even on the docks, the hot and dry air was thick with the scents of spice, brine, people, and livestock. Most of the dusky-skinned citizens walking near the piers wore light, loose-fitting cloth shifts or equally loose and light leggings or pants. Wraps in varied colors and patterns upon their heads were done up in short or tall, thick or thin mounds. Some people herded goats or carried square baskets of fowl.

A large Numan vessel waited thirty paces down the dock from where Chane stood. He still could not believe what he had been forced into accepting.

Everyone who would remain behind for the desert search had come to see off the others. This was not a night like any other, past or yet to come.

The decision had been made—or forced—to gather the three hidden orbs. From then on, every spare moment had been filled with preparations.
He and Wynn had had no time to speak of anything that mattered to them, to him.

Wynn had soon realized that Chane would encounter issues in communicating with Chap along the way. The only reason that Magiere and Chap could exist in close proximity to Chane was because of the arcane “ring of nothing,” as he called it, that he wore on his left hand. As a dhampir and majay-hì, hunters of the undead, they were driven into a hunting rage if they neared anything undead.

Chane could be seen, heard, and touched by natural means, but anyone with the ability to sense his “unnatural” state could not do so while he wore the ring. Even his thoughts and memories were shielded from invasion. Only the ring kept his nature from breaching the tentative truce with Chap and Magiere.

However, it also kept Chap from speaking to him through memory-words.

Chap could express “yes,” “no,” and “maybe” by a series of huffing sounds. One huff meant “yes,” two meant “no,” and three meant “maybe.” This would hardly be enough for the two of them to create or agree on plans while traveling.

By way of answer, Wynn procured a thick goat hide. She wrote the Belaskian alphabet in the center and then created rows of commonly used words at the top and bottom and down the sides. Chap would be able to point to simple words or spell out more complicated ones, and in this way, they would be able to communicate. Apparently, Magiere and Leesil had used something similar in the past called “the talking hide,” before Chap had learned to call up memory-words.

Chane now carried the new hide in his pack.

Three moderate-sized chests had also been procured to hold the three orbs to be recovered. Passage had been purchased for them to travel north on a route that stopped over at the Port of Soráno, where Wayfarer, Osha, and Shade would disembark to head for the lands of the Lhoin'na.

Chane would sail onward with only Chap.

What little coin was left had been divided two to one, the greater part for himself and Chap.

It was all so cut-and-dried.

Wynn stood facing him on the dock and had not said a word so far. She was so short—or he was so tall—that she had to lean her head back to look up at him. Her pretty, oval face surrounded by wispy light brown hair always made him ponder how much of his existence . . . how
he
had been altered by this woman whom he loved. And now she was sending him away while she went off with Magiere and some of the others to scout eastward into the great desert.

She had done so by playing his love for her against his better judgment. Her words still haunted him.

Please . . . do this for us . . . for the world.

For “why,” she was right, but for “how,” she was wrong, and he should never have consented. Now it was too late.

Wynn was one of the few who both cared and had placed herself in position to take action against large forces and events almost no one else could foresee. She had asked for his help, and he could not refuse her.

“Chane,” she said, and that one word always left him vulnerable to her.

In her eyes, he saw himself as no else did. He wanted to
be
what she saw. She did not see him as a killer or a monster, though he had been—perhaps still was—both. To her, he was a companion who had fought at her side. She saw him as strong and resourceful and necessary.

He could do something for her now that no one else could.

Ore-Locks won't give the orb to anyone but you . . . not even me.

Yes, one orb had been left with the wayward stonewalker and his brethren for safekeeping. Perhaps not a friend, but at least a comrade, Ore-Locks was the true inheritor of the orb of Earth. No one else could ever dare ask for it.

“It's been so long since we were apart,” Wynn said.

Hearing her words took away his own. All he could say was, “Be safe.”

Reaching out, she touched his hand. “I need to tell Shade good-bye.”

He nodded as she turned toward the younger majay-hì.

“Take this.”

The sudden other voice startled him, and he turned his head quickly.

Ghassan il'Sänke held out his hand, and Chane looked down. In the ex-domin's palm was a tiny nondescript pebble.

“Keep it with you,” il'Sänke said, “on your person at all times.”

Chane's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Likely, none of them would ever return to the ensorcelled sanctuary hidden in the empire's capital.

“Why?” he asked.

“I am the one who placed the ensorcellment upon it, so that it could be used to open the hidden sanctuary doors. I therefore have a connection to it and will be able to gauge your general distance and direction. It will be easier to find and meet you when you and Chap return to this region.”

Chane still hesitated; he did not like being “tracked.”

Il'Sänke glanced toward Wynn, who was kneeling before Shade. “How else will I—or she—find you along the foothills, mountains, or a vast desert?”

With some reluctance, Chane took the pebble, knowing he was being manipulated.

• • •

When Wynn turned from Chane, she forced herself not to look back, or she might say something she'd later regret. There were others watching that she also had to face. All of this was harder than she'd expected.

It could be a whole season—maybe more—before she would again see those who had traveled at her side for so long. Parting with Chane was especially difficult.

There was nothing else to be done. They all had tasks to complete.

Shade stood waiting, eyeing Wynn fiercely with her hackles slightly
bristling. Wynn knelt down on the dock and took Shade's charcoal-colored face in her small hands.

“Please, sister,” she said quietly. “Don't make this any harder for us both. You have to watch over Wayfarer . . . and Osha.”

Shade remained silent for a long moment, and her hackles stiffened upright as she gave a rising growl. One memory-word exploded in Wynn's mind.

—No!—

Shade pressed her whole head into Wynn's face.

— . . . Not go!— . . . —Wynn cannot be . . . alone— . . . —. . . unsafe . . . dangerous—

Shade's grasp of words was far less developed than Chap's, even though she'd been the first to figure how to single out words from Wynn's memories and use them to “speak.” Unlike Chap, Shade could do this only with Wynn and only when they physically touched.

Wynn had not expected another outright refusal immediately before boarding. She wasn't angry. How could she be? Shade wasn't being overprotective here, as she sometimes could be. Of course, Wynn would be at risk without Shade—or Chane or even Osha.

“You must go,” Wynn whispered, glancing at Wayfarer, who was thankfully occupied in checking the contents of her pack. “Wayfarer needs at least one majay-hì who will be
on her side
, no matter what.”

Closing her eyes, Wynn recalled a night not too long ago, when Wayfarer, Chap, Magiere, and Leesil had been freed from a whole moon's imprisonment. Upon emerging, the girl had leaned on Chap, unable to walk on her own. In remembering, Wynn reminded Shade of that moment.

“She will need you,” Wynn whispered into Shade's ear, “as I have needed you . . . and your father.”

Shade jerked back with a snarl, but Wynn didn't let go of her.

Wynn had hoped this journey might bring some understanding in a
daughter for why a father had both abandoned her and through her mother sent her away from her home. Wynn said nothing more about it, as it would do no good here and now. As with everything else, she could only hope.

“Take Wayfarer to Vreuvillä,” Wynn added, “and guard her. Only you can do this.”

Shade's neck muscles tightened under Wynn's hands, though she did not pull away.

“I will miss you, sister,” Wynn murmured. “Until I see you again.”

She could at least say such things to Shade, if not to Chane . . . or Osha. And she rose quickly before any tears fell, prepared to face the last one.

Osha eyed her, his expression full of pain and maybe spite. He turned his back to her and crouched to fuss with the luggage for the journey.

Wynn clenched her jaw, breathing hard to hold back more tears. And when her sight cleared . . .

Magiere, farther down the dock, turned to look back, her pale face emotionless.

“Boarding has started,” she called. “Sailors are coming for luggage.”

Leesil stood a few paces short from her and hadn't said much in the past four days. Chap stood beside him and, thankfully, refrained from any more snarling at Chane. Wynn knew the situation went against all his instincts, but it was his plan.

Three pale-skinned sailors came trotting down the dock.

“Anything else?” the lead one asked in Numanese with a glance at the three chests.

“Just those,” Chane answered, as he always carried his own packs.

Magiere strode over to embrace Wayfarer, whispered something in the girl's ear, and Wayfarer held on until Magiere had to pull free. Osha came and took Wayfarer's hand to lead her after the sailors carrying the chests. Chane followed them with a last slow nod to Wynn, which she returned, and he called to Shade.

Shade lingered.

Wynn nodded with a weak wave to push Shade onward and then dropped her gaze. She couldn't watch any longer.

There had been painful partings in the past among all of them. Two groups who'd grown to depend upon and trust those with them had been split and mixed in ways that would make trust among some of them almost impossible. More than just sorrow now weighed upon everyone.

It was the worst of partings in Wynn's whole life.

It will not get better, but you can face it, little one.

Wynn raised her eyes to meet Chap's. He hadn't called her “little one” in years.

I trust you most of all. Watch yourself until I find you again, but watch those two most of all.

Wynn looked to Magiere and Leesil.

No . . . the other two.

Wynn hesitated but did not turn. Somewhere behind her, Ghassan and Brot'an stood waiting. They were the only two, besides Chane when he was wearing his ring, from whom Chap could never see any surface thoughts.

Chap huffed once at Wynn, and she barely had time for a wave before he trotted up the dock after the others who were boarding the ship.

• • •

Khalidah returned to the tenement with Magiere, Leesil, Wynn, and Brot'an. Upon reaching the warped front door, he led the way in without pause and upstairs to the top passage, where he stopped before the paneless window at the far end. Khalidah closed his grip hard on one of Ghassan's pebbles.

The shadowy form of a heavy door overlay the window.

He twisted its lever handle, and, as he opened it, the door became solid and real to all present. He held it open and ushered everyone else inside.

The first to enter was the dhampir, and he purposefully avoided eyeing her in any conspicuous way. But the last to enter gave him reason for a second glance. Brot'an's—Brot'ân'duivé's—first step through the doorway was almost hesitant.

It was so brief that anyone else might not have noticed.

For Khalidah, once leader of the triad called the Sâ'yminfiäl—“Masters of Frenzy”—under Beloved, very little of true use escaped his notice. More so where enemies were concerned. The elder “shadow-gripper” took one quick glance at the door's frame as he entered. Perhaps a slight frown crossed that scarred face, and his large amber eyes narrowed for an instant.

“Well, it's done,” Leesil said.

The half-blood and the dhampir both looked drawn and weary as they stepped to the table, but they didn't yet sit.

“Yes,” Wynn said, “and there's no turning back.”

She began fussing about for a ladle to dip water from one of the large jugs. The sage would likely be making tea, though no one had asked for such, and it was rather late. Brot'an was the first to settle in a chair, and he sat waiting.

With three people and both majay-hì removed, the main room looked far less overcrowded. Not that Khalidah planned to join them at the moment.

“I must go out,” he said in Ghassan's voice, and at that he felt the domin squirming in his—
their
—mind. “I need to report to the prince . . . to the new emperor that I will be leaving soon.”

Wynn's brow wrinkled as she turned. “You haven't told him yet?”

“No, and I thought to wait until the journey was imminent. You should all rest while you can, and I will let myself back in.”

He left and pulled the door closed before that annoying little sage pestered him even more. The false window overlooking the alley reappeared.