The Song of Homana (34 page)

Duncan sipped at his honey brew. I noticed then that his hair was still black, showing no silver at all. Odd, I thought; Duncan was the elder.

“I am not certain he was cleansed at all,” Alix said in a very low voice. “He is—unhappy.” Briefly she looked at Duncan. “But that is a private thing.”

“Can he say nothing to me?” I could not hide the desperation in my voice. “By the gods, we have been closer than most. We shared an exile together, and then only because of me.
He
might have stayed behind.” I looked at them both, almost pleading to understand. “Why can he say nothing to me?”

“It is private,” Duncan repeated. “But no, he can say nothing to you. He knows you too well.”

I swore, then glanced in concern to Donal. But boys grow up, and I did not doubt he had heard it before. Finn had taught me the Cheysuli invectives. “He told you what he did, then. To Electra?”

“To Tynstar,” Duncan said.

I heard the firecairn crackle in the sudden silence. A hissing mote of sparks flew up. “Tynstar?” I said at last.

“Aye. It was not
Electra
he meant to slay; did you think it was?” He frowned. “Did he tell you nothing?”

I recalled how he had said it over and over, so hoarse and stricken:
Tynstar was here
. And how I had ignored it. “He said—something—”

“Tynstar set a trap,” Duncan explained, echoing Finn’s own words. “He set it in Electra’s mind, so that anyone using the earth magic on her would succumb to the possession.”

My body twitched in surprise. “
Possession!
”

The firelight cast an amber glaze across the face before me. Smoke was drawn upward to the vent-flap, but enough remained to shroud the air with a wispy, ocherous haze.
Duncan was gold and bronze and black in the light, and the hawk-earring transfixed my gaze. I smelled smoke and wet fur and honey, sweet honey, with the bittersweet tang of spice.

“The Ihlini have that power,” Duncan said quietly. “It is a balance of our own gift, which is why we use it sparingly. We would not have it said we are anything like the Ihlini.” Minutely, he frowned, looking downward into his cup. “When we use it, we leave a person his soul. We do little more than
suggest
, borrowing the will for a moment only.” Again the faint frown that alarmed me. He was not divulging something. “When it is Ihlini-done, the soul is swallowed whole.
Whole
…and not given back at all.”

Silence. Duncan put out a hand and touched his son, tousling Donal’s hair in a gesture that betrayed his concern as the boy crept closer, between father and
lir
. I thought Duncan knew how avidly the boy listened and meant to calm any fears. The gods knew I had a few of my own.

“Finn reacted the way any Cheysuli would react; perhaps even you.” He did not smile. “He tried to slay the trapper through the trap. It is—understandable.” His eyes lifted to meet mine squarely. “In that moment she was not Electra to him, not even a woman. To Finn, she was simply Tynstar. Tynstar was—
there
.”

I frowned. “Then Tynstar
knew
it was Finn he had—”

“I do not doubt it,” Duncan said clearly. “An Ihlini trap will kill. He did not intend to leave Finn alive. But something—
someone
—prevented the death by shattering a trap-link.”

“
I
broke it.” I recalled how Electra had grasped Finn’s hand, leaving blood in the scratches she had made. How he had been unable to break free.

And I recalled, suddenly, how he had slain the Homanan assassin in the Ellasian blizzard, more than a year before. How he had said he
touched
Tynstar, who had set the man a task—

I stood up. Bile surged into my throat. Before they could say a word I bent down and swept up my damp cloak, then went out of the pavilion shouting for my horse.

Alix, running out into the rain, caught my arm as I moved to sling on the cloak. “Carillon—wait you! What are you doing?”

The hood lay on my shoulders and the rain ran into my mouth. “Do you not see?” I was amazed she could be so blind. “Finn thought he slew Tynstar through Electra. Tynstar thought he slew
him
—” I swung up on my horse.
“If one is afraid, one can only become unafraid by facing what causes the fear.”

“Carillon!” she shouted, but I was already gone.

I heard the howling when I ran into Homana-Mujhar.
Howling
. Gods, was Finn a wolf—?

The white faces were a blur, but I heard the frightened voices.
“My lord!” “My lord Carillon!” “The Mujhar!”
I pushed past them all and answered none of them, conscious only of the great beating of fear in my chest.

Howling. Gods, it was Storr. Not Finn. But the screaming was Electra’s.

Weight hung off my shoulders as I pounded up the twisting red stone stairs. I ripped the cloak-brooch from my left shoulder and felt the fabric tear. Weight and gold fell behind me; I heard the clink of brooch on stone and the soft slap of soaked wool falling to the stairs.
“My lord!”
But I ran on.

I burst through the women and into the room. I saw Electra first, white-faced and screaming though Lachlan suggested she be quiet. No need, he said; no need to scream. Safe, he said; unharmed. The wolf was held at bay.

Electra was whole. I saw it at once. She stood in a corner with Lachlan holding her back, his hands upon her arms. Holding her
back
—

—from Finn. From Finn, who was capably cornered by Rowan with his sword, and another man-at-arms. They caged him with steel, bright and deadly, and the wolf in man’s shape was held at bay.

He bled. Something had opened the scar so that his face ran with blood. It stained the leather jerkin and splattered down to his thighs, where I saw more blood. His right
thigh, where the Atvian spear had pierced. There was a cut in his leggings and blood on Rowan’s blade.

He was flat against the wall, head pressed back so that his throat was bared. Blood ran from the opened scar to trickle down his throat, crimson on bronze; I smelled the tang of fear. Gods, it swallowed him whole and left nothing to spit out.

I looked again at Electra and heard the women’s frightened conversation. I understood little of it, knowing it to be only Solindish. But I understood the screams.

I went to her and set a hand on Lachlan’s shoulder. He saw me, but he did not let her go. I knew why. There was blood on her nails and she wanted more; she would rip the flesh from his bones.

“Electra,” I said.

The screaming stopped. “
Carillon
—”

“I know.” I could hear the howling still. Storr, locked somewhere within the palace. Locked away by his
lir
.

I turned away again, looking back at Finn. His eyes were wide and wild. Breath rasped in his throat. Even from here, I saw how he shook; how the trembling wracked his bones.

“Out!” I shouted at the women. “This will be better done without your Solindish tongues!”

They protested at once. So did Electra. But I listened to none of it. I waited, and when they saw I meant it they gathered their skirts and scuttled out of the room. I slammed the heavy door shut behind them, and then I went to Finn.

The man-at-arms—Perrin, I knew—stepped out of my way at once. Rowan hesitated, still holding Finn at swordpoint, and I set him aside with one ungentle thrust of my arm. I went through the space where Rowan had stood and caught the jerkin in both hands, pulling Finn from the wall even as he sagged.

“Ku’reshtin!”
I used the Cheysuli obscenity, knowing he would answer no Homanan.
“Tu’halla dei!” Lord to liege man
, a command he had to acknowledge.

I felt the shaking in the flesh beneath my hands. Fists clenched and unclenched helplessly, clawless and human,
but betrayal nonetheless. I had seen the bruises on Electra’s throat.

I heard the labored breathing. The howling filled the halls. Human and wolf, both driven to extremes. But at this moment I thought Storr, at least, knew what was going on.

I thrust Finn into the corner, fenced by two walls of stone. I drew back one fist and smashed it into his face, knocking skull against brick. Blood welled up in a broken lip.

“No!” Rowan caught my arm.

“Get you gone!” I thrust him back again. “I am not beating him to death, I am beating him to
sense
—”

A hand closed on my wrist. Finn’s hand, but lacking all strength. “Tynstar—”

At least he could speak again. “Finn—you fool!
You fool!
It was a trap—
a trap
—” I shook my head in desperation. “Why did you go in again? Why did you give him the chance?”

“Tynstar—” It hissed out of his bloodied mouth. “Tynstar—
here
—”

“He nearly slew me!” Electra’s voice was hoarse and broken. “Your shapechanger tried to slay me!”

“Tynstar was here—”

“No.” I felt the futility well into my chest. “Oh Finn, no—not Tynstar,
Electra
. It was a trap—”

“Tynstar.” For a moment he frowned in confusion, trying to stand on his own. He knew I held him, and I thought he knew why. “Let go.”

“No.” I shook my head. “You will try for her again.”

It focused him. I saw sense in his eyes again, and the fear came leaping back to swallow him whole once more.

I slammed him against the wall once more as he thrust himself from the stone. Electra shouted again, this time in Solindish, and I heard the rage in her voice. Not only fear, though there was that. Rage. And wild, wild hatred.

“Finn—” I set the elbow against his throat and felt him stiffen at once. We had done it all before.

“My lord.” Rowan’s voice was horrified. “What will you do?”

“Tynstar’s
meijha
,” Finn rasped. “Tynstar was
here
—”

I let him go. I let go of the wrist I held, took my arm from his throat and stood back. But this time the sword was in my hand, my sword, and he stopped when I set the point against his throat. “No,” I said. “Hold. I will get the truth from you one way or another.” I saw the shock in his eyes. “Finn, I
understand
. Duncan has said what it was, and I recall how you were in the Ellasian snowstorm.” I paused, looking for comprehension in his eyes. “Do not make it any worse.”

He was still white as death. Blood welled in the opened scar. Now, seeing him in extremity, I saw clearly the silver in his hair. Even beneath the blood his face was harder, more gaunt at eyes and beneath his cheeks. He had aged ten years in two months.

“Finn,” I said in rising alarm, “are you ill?”

“Tynstar,” was all he said, and again: “Tynstar. He put his hand on me.”

When I could I looked at Rowan, standing silent and shocked beside me. “How did you come to be here?”

He swallowed twice. “The Queen screamed, my lord. We all came.” He gestured at Lachlan and Perrin. “There were more at first, but I sent them away. I thought you would prefer this matter handled in private.”

I felt old and tired and used up. I held a sword against my liege man. I had only to look at his face to know why it was necessary. “What did you find when you came?”

“The Queen was—in some disarray. Finn’s hands were on her throat.” Rowan looked angry and confused. “My lord—there was nothing else I could do. He was trying to slay the Queen.”

I knew he meant the leg wound. I wondered how bad it was. Finn stood steadily enough
now
, but I could see the pain in the tautness of his gaunt, bloody face.

Lachlan spoke at last. “Carillon—I have no wish to condemn him. But it is true. He would have taken her life.”

“Execute him.” Electra’s tone was urgent. “He tried to slay me, Carillon.”

“It was Tynstar,” Finn said clearly. “It was Tynstar I wanted.”

“But it was Electra you would have slain.” The sword,
for the slightest moment, wavered in my hand. “You fool,” I whispered, “why have you done this to me? You know what I must do—”

“No!” It exploded from Rowan’s throat. “My lord—you
cannot
—”

“No,” I said wearily, “I cannot—not that. But there is something else—”

“Execute him!” Electra again. “There is nothing else to be done. He sought to slay the Queen!”

“I will
not
have him slain.”

It was Lachlan who understood first. “Carillon! It will bare your back to the enemy!”

“I have no choice.” I looked directly at Finn, still caged by the steel of my sword. “Do you see what you have done?”

He raised his hands. He closed them both on the blade, blocking out the runes. The ones his father had made. “
No
.”

I was nearly shaking myself. “But you would do it again, would you not?”

The grimace came swiftly; bared teeth and the suggestion of a deep growl in a human throat. “Tynstar—”

“Electra,”
I said. “You would do it again, would you not?”

“
Aye
…” A breathy hiss of sound expelled from a constricted throat. He was shaking.

“Finn,” I said, “it is done. I have no choice. The service is over.” I stopped short, then went on when I could speak. “The blood-oath is—denied.”

His eyes were fixed on mine. After a moment I could not bear to look at them, but I did. I had given him the task; it was mine to do as well.

He took his hands from the blade. I saw the lines pressed into his palms, but no blood. He bled enough already, inside as well as out.

His voice was a whisper.
“Ja’hai-na,”
he said only.
Accepted
.

I put the sword away, hearing the hiss of steel on boiled leather as it slid home. The lion was quiescent; the brilliant ruby black.

Finn took the knife from the sheath at his belt and
offered it to me. My own, once; the royal blade with its golden Homanan crest.

It nearly broke me. “Finn,” I said, “I cannot.”

“The blood-oath is denied.” His face was stark, old, aging. “
Ja’hai
, my lord Mujhar.”

I took it from his hand. There was blood upon the gold.
“Ja’hai-na,”
I said at last, and Finn walked from the room.

When I could, I went out into the corridor and moved slowly through the dimness. The torches were unlighted. The hallway was empty of people; my servants, knowing how to serve, left me to myself.