The Shapechangers (28 page)

His hand was tight on her arm. “You are no boy,” he said, surprised. He turned her face into the light. “No boy at all.” And he smiled.

She tugged ineffectually against his grip. When she saw she could not break free she gave it up and waited silently.

“Who are you? Why do you free that worthless child?”

“He is not worthless!” she cried. “He only sought to serve his prince, as befits a loyal man. Yet you punish him for that!”

“I punish him because he threw wine over my father,” the man said firmly. “He is fortunate I did not order him slain.”

Alix froze.
Thorne…Thorne! This man is Keough’s heir!

His dark eyes narrowed. “What do you do here, girl?”

“You saw me. I cut the boy free.”

“Why?”

She lifted her chin defiantly. “Because Carillon desired it.”

“Carillon is a prisoner.” His accent twisted the name. “His desires are nothing to me.”

“Let me go,” she said, knowing the request was futile.

Thorne arched a dark brow. “I think not. But tell me why you desire to leave a prince’s presence so quickly.”

“There is another prince whose company I prefer.”

He stared at her malignantly. Alix began to regret antagonizing him, for fear of the reprisals that might affect Carillon.

“My father will wish to see you,” Thorne said abruptly, and dragged her into the scarlet pavilion.

Keough, Lord of Atvia, sat at a heavy slab table in the shadows of the pavilion. Braziers had been set out to ward off the chill and torches flamed in each corner. Alix stared at him and began to be very afraid for the first time.

He was huge. His massive body dwarfed the chair he sat in, which had been bound with iron to lend it strength. His bared forearms rested on the table. She saw freckles and red hairs bleached golden by the sun. A white ridge of scar tissue snaked across the flesh and up his left arm. His hair also was red, threaded with white, and his beard was bushy. His deep-set eyes watched her in calm deliberation.

“What have you brought me, Thorne?”

“A woman dressed as a boy. You will have to ask her the reason for it.”

Keough’s eyes narrowed. His Atvian mouth formed the Homanan syllables harshly, without the liquid grace she was accustomed to.

“She does not look like a camp follower. They, at least, wear skirts.” His fingers combed his beard. “Are you a woman who prefers those of her own sex?”

“No!” Alix hissed, against her will. She saw Keough’s small smile, and it rankled. “I am a Homanan, my lord. That is all you need know.”

“Then you are my enemy.”

“Aye.” It was heartfelt.

The beard and mustache parted as he grinned, displaying discolored teeth as big as the rest of him. “Have you come hoping to fight? If so, you are too late. The battle is already won. Prince Fergus and the generals are slain; executed. Most of the captains are dead, though I save a few for later exhibition. Even Carillon is in my hands.” Keough paused. “There is little left for you to champion.”

Alix was done with this. She reached for the magic in her bones that would give her
lir
-shape before their eyes. But Thorne, seeming to sense something, twisted the arm he held until the sinews cracked. The sudden pain drove away the concentration the shapechange required.

“What do I do with her?” Thorne asked. “Will you use her, or do I take her for myself?”

Keough looked at her as she hung on her tiptoes. “Leave her with me. See if Carillon is still among us.”

Thorne released her and left the tent. Alix cradled her aching arm against her chest, glaring at Keough. For the moment she was helpless, and knew it.

The Atvian lord smiled and sat back in his massive chair. “You are not a light woman. You are not a soldier. What are you?”

“Someone who will seek your downfall, Atvian, when I am given the chance.”

“I could have you slain, girl. Or do it myself.” He raised his huge hands. “Your slender throat would not live long in these fingers.”

“And your heart will not live long with a Cheysuli arrow piercing it,” Duncan said quietly.

Alix swung around, shocked as she saw him standing inside the pavilion. His eyes rested on her briefly, expressionlessly, then returned to Keough. In his hands was the black war bow, its string invisible in the shadows. Eerily, it seemed the bow required no string to send its arrow winging into men’s flesh.

Keough made a sound. Alix turned back and saw him stare at Duncan as if demons pursued his soul, His small eyes slid from Duncan to Alix, and she heard the malevolence in his tone.

“So, you are a shapechanger witch sent to distract me while the others work against us.”

“No,” she said clearly. “I am Cheysuli, aye, but I came only for Carillon. You bind him harshly, my lord. There is no honor in your heart.”

Keough laughed at her. “I
have
no heart, witch. None at all.”

Duncan moved forward until he stood next to Alix. “My
cheysula
has the right of it. Carillon deserves better.”

Keough pressed his hands against the table and rose. He was unarmed save for a sheathed knife at his belt, but he did not reach for it.

“I warn you, shapechanger. I am not an easy man to slay.”

Duncan smiled grimly. “You will not be slain this night, my lord. It is not your
tahlmorra.
It would not serve the prophecy.”

Keough’s red brows lanced down. “What mean you?”

“Nothing, save I desire Carillon’s release.”

“Your price for leaving me alive?” Keough laughed. “What if I refuse?”

Duncan shrugged. “I have said you will not die this night. I have never lied. Even to my enemies.”

The huge Atvian lord smiled. “I give you nothing, shapechanger. What you will have, you must take.”

Alix sensed the billowing of the doorflap behind and turned quickly, expecting an Atvian guard. But instead she saw a familiar silver wolf, and Finn beside him.

He grinned at her. “So,
meijha
, you will do for yourself what you cannot convince
us
to do.”

“I asked,” she said tightly. “You would not come.”

“Enough,” Duncan said softly.

Thorne burst through the draped pavilion entrance, sword drawn and raised to slash its way into flesh and bone. Finn spun noiselessly and drew his knife, knocking the blade away. Thorne fell sprawling to the ground, a Cheysuli knife pressed against his throat as Finn knelt by him.

Duncan looked solemnly at Keough. “Your son’s life, my lord, in exchange for Carillon’s release.”

Keough spat out an Atvian oath between his teeth and grabbed up the keys from an open chest. He flung them at Duncan.

Alix followed Duncan’s silent order and left the pavilion. Duncan followed her out, leaving Finn and Storr to keep the Atvian rulers contained.

“Where is he?” Duncan asked.

“By the horses. Duncan—”

“We will speak of it another time.”

Alix winced. “What else could I do?”

“We will speak of it another time.”

She stopped to protest, then became aware of the odd stillness shrouding the encampment. She realized not a single Atvian or Solindish soldier moved against the Cheysuli invaders.

Alix turned puzzled eyes on Duncan. “What have you done?”

He smiled grimly. “We have used the third gift of the gods, Alix. We could not force all into submission, but we found the captains and took their minds from them for a time. They, in turn, do as we ordered, and keep the common soldiers from fighting. The Homanan captives have been freed.”

She drew back a step. “By the gods…you are so powerful?”

“It is a thing we rarely do. It takes the spirit from a man, and that is a thing no Cheysuli would do if there were another way.” His eyes were reproving. “You have brought this about,
cheysula.
”

Her hands clenched into fists. “I would do the same for you!” she burst out. “For you I would give my life. How can you deny me this for Carillon?”

He sighed and jangled the keys against his leg. “Alix, we will speak of this later. You have forced me to free the prince, so let me be about it. Do you come?”

She started to walk on, then stopped stiffly and turned back. “The boy!”

“What boy?”

“Rowan.” She gestured at the post and saw the boy was gone. “He was there. Tied. I freed him.” She frowned. “I thought he had not the strength to leave this place.” Alix’s face cleared. “But if he
is
Cheysuli—”

Duncan took her arm. “Come,
cheysula.
If the boy is free, it is fortunate for him.”

She went with him to Carillon.

The prince still sat in the tumbril, legs drawn up. Moonlight spilled across the iron on his legs and hands, illuminating the drawn hollows around his eyes. When he saw Alix he shifted forward, ignoring the clank of chain.

“You are safe!”

She smiled and slid a quick sideways glance at Duncan. “Aye, I am.”

Carillon blinked in surprise as he saw the Cheysuli warrior. Then a wariness came into his face. “What have you come for, shapechanger?”

Duncan regarded Carillon solemnly. “I lost something, my lord. I came to recover it.” He spread his hands. “But while I am here, I may as well see to your welfare. My foolish
cheysula
has forced me to do her bidding.”

Carillon nearly smiled. Alix saw the struggle in his face as he tried to keep his emotional distance from the Cheysuli. But his relief and good nature won out.

“She
is
a foolish woman. I told her so when first she appeared, but she would have none of it.” He shrugged. “Women are willful creatures.”

Duncan lost his solemnity and grinned. “Aye, especially this one. I think it is the royalty in her.”

Carillon laughed. Alix, disgruntled by the amusement in them both at her expense, glared at Duncan.

“Have you brought the keys for nothing, Duncan? See to your prince!”

Duncan banished his smile but not the glint in his eyes. He bent and unlocked the leg shackles. Then he unlocked the heavy bands around his wrists.

The iron fell away. Alix hissed as she saw the raw wounds ringing Carillon’s wrists, as if he still wore the shackles. Carefully he stretched out his hands and tried to work them.

Duncan stopped him. “Do not. If you will suffer it, I can take away the pain when we are free of this place.” His eyes were very watchful. “
Will
you suffer it?”

Carillon sighed. “It seems I must. Alix has chastised me for my unremitting distrust of your race. Perhaps it is time I listened to her.”

A glow came into Duncan’s eyes. “If she has caused you to reconsider the feelings most Homanans hold for us, then her foolishness has some merit.”

“Duncan!” she cried in frustration.

His brows lifted as he turned to her. “Well, it
was
foolishness. First you left the Keep, where I ordered you to remain; then you joined us when I would have you go back; and now you have come into an enemy camp. What else am I to think of your behavior?”

Alix took a deep breath and glared at him, hands on hips. “My behavior is mine to do. It has nothing to do with you. Because I have wed you according to your barbaric shapechanger custom and carry your halfling child does
not
mean you have the ordering of me.”

“Alix!” Carillon cried. He looked first at Duncan, then at her. After a moment he looked back at Duncan. “Does she always speak this way?”

“When it suits her. I have not found her a diplomatic
cheysula.
”

Alix scowled at him.

Carillon shook his head slowly. “No, I think not. I had not known of her sharp tongue.” He grinned suddenly. “Well, that
is not entirely true. I recall her words when I destroyed her garden.”

Alix shoved her hair back from her face. “I begin to wish I had not come.”

Carillon frowned at her. “Who cut off your hair?”

“Duncan.”

Carillon, astonished, looked at the warrior. “Why?”

Duncan’s mouth twisted. “She required a lesson.” He dropped the keys and stretched out his hand. “Come, my lord; it is time we took you from this place.”

Carillon heaved himself from the tumbril with Duncan’s help. His face went white and he gasped in pain as his muscles screamed their agony. He remained on his feet only because Duncan held him there.

“Give me a sword,” Carillon said between clenched teeth. “I must have a sword. I owe a death to someone.”

“I have none.” Duncan’s eyes were opaque and blank. “The last sword the Cheysuli held was Hale’s. You, my lord, have lost it for us.”

Carillon blanched beneath the quiet reproach. “I had little to do with it! Thorne disarmed me, and took it.” His pale face twisted. “I will slay that man. I have been chained like a beast and treated as common filth. They have made me watch as they ordered my men slain, and Thorne has laughed at it all.” He took a slow breath. “But the worst has nothing to do with me. It was the boy. Because of him, and the rest, Thorne will die by my hand.”

Alix moved closer. “The boy, Carillon. I saw him closely. Is he Cheysuli?”

Carillon sighed. “I thought so. He had the color for it. But he said no, when I asked him. He was afraid. I think, if anything, he is a bastard got on some Cheysuli woman. He said he was raised Homanan by a man and a woman not his parents.” He looked back at Duncan. “If I cannot have a sword, shapechanger, then lend me a knife.”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “I have a name, princeling. You would do well to use it. I have committed my clan to your survival, and that of Homana. You and I have, I think, gone beyond being opponents of any sort. There is more than that between us, now. My lord.” Duncan studied him dispassionately. “If you would earn the respect of the Cheysuli—which you must have to keep Homana intact—you would do well to save your hatred for the Ihlini.”

Alix feared they might come to blows. Carillon glared angrily
at Duncan, as if he would slay him, and Duncan exhibited no intention of retracting his sharp words.

Finally she put a hand on each of their arms. “Come, my warriors. We should leave this place.” When Duncan made no signs of moving she deliberately pressed her nails into his bare arm. “
Cheysul
, so you forget I carry your son? Get me free of this place.”