The Shapechangers (29 page)

That drove both of them into motion. Carillon wavered on his feet, recovered, and made as if to walk. Duncan caught his arm and led him away from the tumbril. But his other hand was on Alix’s wrist, and she felt herself dragged after him.

Satisfied she had achieved her goal, she smiled to herself and went along amicably.

Duncan stole an Atvian horse and helped Carillon mount. The prince’s face was stretched taut with pain and the struggle to keep it unspoken, but Alix sensed every screaming fiber of Carillon’s mistreated body. Silently she watched him compose himself in the saddle, gathering reins with swollen, discolored hands.

Duncan turned to her. “Ride behind him,
cheysula.
”

Carillon glared at him. “I have no need of a woman to keep me in the saddle, shapechanger.”

“This
woman
has accounted for your rescue, princeling,” Duncan returned. “And as for your ability to keep yourself in the saddle, that is for you to do. It is Alix I am concerned about, and the health of our child.”

Carillon, about to say something more, snapped his mouth shut.

Alix shook her head. “I go with you, Duncan.”

“The others leave this place in
lir
-shape,” he said calmly. “I will walk, leading this horse. Whether you realize it yet, you are doubtless weary. Ride, Alix.”

Duncan’s words awoke all the trembling in her limbs and the comprehension of what she had accomplished. Alix felt her bones turn to water. Though she longed to protest she withheld it as she saw the understanding in Duncan’s eyes. Silently she let
him lift her onto the horse, and carefully clasped her fingers into the leather of Carillon’s belt.

“Where do we go?” he asked.

“Not far. Perhaps two leagues from here.” Duncan took the horse’s bridle and led it out. “Come, we will see to your welfare when we are free of this place.”

Duncan took them from the open plains into the depths of the shadowed forests, moving so silently Alix heard only the horse’s steps muffled against the bedding of the forest floor. Occasionally she saw flitting shapes of animals slipping by and realized the
lir
and their warriors gave the clan-leader and his charges protection. She felt very safe.

At last Duncan turned the horse into a tiny clearing invisible to the untrained eye. Alix pushed free of the horse and dropped to the ground, ignoring Duncan’s disapproving comment. She stepped out of the way and watched as he helped Carillon dismount.

“I will be well enough,” Carillon said curtly.

Duncan did not remove his steadying arm. “It is no disgrace to require help after so much time spent in close confinement.” He met Carillon’s eyes, “Or is it only
Cheysuli
aid you spurn?”

Alix sighed wearily and pushed hair from her face. “Must you ever go at one another with no basis other than pride and arrogance?” she asked. “Can neither of you forget your race and simply conduct yourselves as
men
?”

Carillon stared at her. After a moment something softened his expression and twisted his mouth briefly. He looked back at Duncan.

“You have proven your loyalty to
me
, at least, this night. It is not my place to reprove you for it.”

Duncan smiled and indicated a fallen log. “Come, my lord. We will see if you are worth saving,”

Alix followed as Duncan led Carillon to the log. The prince lowered himself carefully to the ground and leaned against the fallen tree, sighing as his limbs fell once more into the positions they had grown accustomed to in captivity.

“Build a fire,
cheysula
,” Duncan said quietly as he knelt by Carillon’s side.

She felt a spasm of fear in her chest. “So close to the Atvians?”

“We must, Alix. Carillon can go no farther this night.”

Unhappily she did his bidding, locating stones and building them into a small fire cairn. She lay small sticks and broken kindling upon it, and kept herself from twitching in surprise as a Cheysuli warrior appeared to light it. When she glanced up she saw the clearing was filled with returned warriors.

Flames licked at the kindling and caught, illuminating the clearing into eerie, flickering shadows. Alix saw the dark face of each man and the glowing yellow eyes, acknowledging again her own kinship to the magic of the gods. The
lir
, four-footed and winged, waited silently with their warriors.

Cai
? she asked silently.

He rustled in the nearest tree.
Here
, liren.

I accomplished what I said I would.

Aye
, liren. He sounded amused.
You are truly Cheysuli.

Alix grinned.
Those words from you are honor indeed, Cai.

Yet once you would not admit it
, liren.

Alix sighed and knelt by the fire, watching her husband at Carillon’s side.
But then I was foolish, Cai, and unwilling to learn.

You have learned much
, the bird agreed.
But there is still much left to you.

She peered into the tree, trying to distinguish the hawk’s form from distorting branches.
What do you say?

In time, you will know.

A stifled exclamation from Carillon took her attention from the bird and she moved closer to the prince. Duncan, she saw in alarm, manipulated Carillon’s hands with little regard for his pain.

“Can you not let them be?” Carillon asked between gritted teeth. “They will heal.”

“It is worth the pain to let me see to them, my lord. Iron can damage more than flesh. It can take away the little life within the muscles themselves. But you, I think, will hold a sword again.”

“And when I hold that sword, I will plunge it into Thorne’s black heart.”

Alix’s eyes widened as she saw Finn step out of the darkness into the ring of firelight. Storr flanked him on one side.

“What sword will you use, princeling?” Finn demanded. “You have lost the one my
jehan
gifted to the Mujhar.”

Color flooded Carillon’s face. “I admit it.”

Finn raised one eyebrow. “Well, I had expected denials and excuses from you. You surprise me.”

“This can wait,” Duncan said reprovingly.

Finn moved closer and drew a tooled leather sheath from behind his back. The gold hilt of a broadsword gleamed in the firelight, and the brilliant ruby in it glistened like blood.

The warrior lifted it into the light, focusing all eyes on it. “Hale’s sword was meant for one man, Carillon. I cannot say if that man is you, but if it is—you had best take care. This is
twice you have lost my
jehan’s
sword. Next time I may not see it back in your hands.”

Carillon said nothing as Finn held the sheathed weapon down. For a long moment his hands lay still in his lap, where Duncan had released them. Then, when Finn made no move to withdraw it, Carillon closed one hand around the scabbard.

“If you are so dedicated to overcoming my succession,” he began, “why, then, do you persist in restoring this blade to me? In your hands it might prove far more powerful.”

Finn shrugged, folding bronzed arms across his chest. “A Cheysuli warrior does not bear a sword. And I am that before anything else.”

Carillon set the sword across his lap and stared at the Homanan lion crest stamped into its hilt. Then he let the pain and fatigue take his mind, and he fell asleep with Hale’s sword held firmly against his chest.

Alix looked on his bruised, gaunt face and suddenly longed for the first days of their meetings in the forest near the croft. His fine clothes were gone, replaced by soiled and scarred leathers and blood-rusted chain mail. His sword-belt was missing and his hair had grown shaggy and tangled in weeks of captivity. The only thing princely about him was the ruby seal ring on his right forefinger, and the determination inherent in his face even in exhausted sleep.

She sighed and felt a hollowness enter her spirit, knowing Carillon’s personal
tahlmorra
would take him farther from her yet.

Duncan rose and turned to her, looking down on her expressionlessly. Something in his eyes made her realize her face gave away her feelings, and for an odd moment she saw before her a stern shapechanger warrior who had forced her into his clan against her wishes.

Then the oddness slid away and she saw him clearly.

He is Duncan
, she recalled.
Duncan…

Somehow, it was enough.

He moved to her and slowly raised her. She felt the strength in his hand on her arm and marveled again that this man had taken an unschooled croft-girl into his pavilion, when he might have had another.

“Come with me,” he said softly, guiding her out of the clearing to the forest beyond.

When he found a shattered tree stump he set her down upon it and stood resolutely before her, dark face unreadable in the shadows.

“Duncan?”

“I cannot fault you for what you have done. You determined what it was that needed doing, and you did it.” He shrugged crookedly. “As any warrior does.”

Alix stared at the ground, dreading his wrath. Duncan’s was ever worse than anyone’s.

“I understand what it is to care deeply for someone, so deeply you must do what you can, regardless of outcome,” he said quietly. “You know I would sacrifice myself for you, or Finn, or any other warrior of my clan.”

After a moment she dared to look up at him. Nervously she wet her lips. “If you mean to be angry, Duncan, do it. I cannot wait for it all night.”

His face, still in shadow, showed her nothing. But his voice was surprised. “I am not angry with you. What you did was not
wrong
—only inconsiderate.”

She stiffened. “Inconsiderate!”

Duncan sighed and stepped forward, into a shaft of moonlight threading its way through the trees. She saw his smile and warm eyes as his hands settled possessively on her shoulders.

“Do you forget the child? Do you forget the magic in your soul?”

“Duncan—”

“I will not risk losing you because of bearing the child too soon. Such things can take a woman’s life. But neither will I risk the child, who deserves to live as a warrior. Alix, you have taken
lir
-shape while carrying an unborn child. Had you not thought what that might mean?”

Instinctively a hand slipped to her stomach. Suddenly she was very frightened.

“Duncan—it will not harm the child? It will not take him from me?”

He traced the worried creases from her brow. “I think it will not harm the child,
cheysula
, but it cannot do it much good. Would you have a poor unformed soul shifting shape before it even knows its own?”

Her fingers tightened spasmodically against her stomach. “Duncan!”

He sighed and pulled her to her feet, wrapping hard arms around her shoulders. She turned her face against him.

“I have not said this to worry you, Alix. Only to make you think.”

She clung to him. “I
have
thought, Duncan…and I am afraid!”

“The child is Cheysuli, small one, and bears the Old Blood. I think it will be well enough.”

She drew back. “But what if I have harmed it? What if it is not whole?”

Duncan muttered something under his breath and pulled her against his chest roughly. “I am sorry I said anything. I should not have put this in your mind.”

“You are right to,” she said clearly, trying to see his face in the shadows. “I have been foolish…as you said.”

“Would you say that to Carillon, whom you have freed from captivity?”

“
You
freed him.”

“But had you not defied me to begin with, I would not have gone to the Atvian encampment at all. It was Mujhara I was bound for.”

Alix sighed, trying to deal with two fears. “Do you send me back, then? Do you forbid me to go with you to the city, and make me wait at the Keep?”

He laughed softly. “Why can you not be as other women? Why must you put on men’s garb—my own, I have seen—and act the part of a warrior?”

She scowled. “How can I say? I am myself.”

He nodded. “I have seen that. It is not entirely unpleasing, in its place. As for Mujhara, you will have to come with us. I will not have you take
lir
-shape again, and I will not have you return to the Keep alone. I can spare no men to take you.” He shrugged, sighing. “So you will come.”

Alix said nothing for a long moment. Then she clenched her hands against his ribs. “I cannot say if I am pleased or not. I would not be happy at the Keep, waiting in fear, but neither will I be happy to see you risk yourself for Shaine’s city.”

He smoothed back her hair. “It is not Shaine’s city, small one. Once it was Cheysuli. We have only to win back what was ours.”

She turned her face up to his. “Duncan—had the Cheysuli not given up the throne to Homanans—could you have been Mujhar?”

He smiled. “I am clan-leader,
cheysula.
It is enough.”

Something turned in her heart. “But you have lost so much…”

His eyes were very clear in the moonlight as he looked into her face. “I have lost something, perhaps, but I have found even more.”

“Duncan—”

“Hush,
cheysula.
It is time you let our child rest.”

She sighed and felt her left hand clasped firmly in his as he led her back to the tiny camp.

I am not the proper sort of woman for this man
…she thought in aching regret.

Cai, hidden in the darkness, sent her his warm reassurance. Liren…
you are the
only
woman for this man.

Alix drew closer to Duncan and hoped the hawk was right.

“I will not subject myself to Cheysuli sorcery,” Carillon said firmly in the morning.

He sat upright against his log, hands folded over the scabbarded sword Finn had returned to him. The Cheysuli warriors faced him silently, yet disapproving even in their silence.

Alix saw defiant determination in the prince’s battered face. “Carillon,” she reproved softly.

His eyes flickered as he looked at her, standing at Duncan’s side. “Alix, such sorcery is evil. I cannot deny your own measure of it, but I know you. You would never seek to bring down Homana’s heir.”