The Vildecaz Talents: The complete set of Vildecaz Stories including Nimuar's Loss, The Deceptive Oracle and Agnith's Promise (46 page)

“I am not so feckless a man as you think me,” he said, clearly feeling injured.

“I don’t think you feckless at all. I think you are allegiant to your art as you can be to no person. Which is why I’m persuaded that your affection is mitigated by your art.” She took a step away from him. “If you still want to paint me, speak to me after the full moon and I will try to give you the time you need.”

Ae-Melukah shook his head. “I will show you the sincerity of my love. Wait until you see how I paint you.”

“I don’t doubt your sincerity,” said Erianthee. “It is your sincerity that troubles me.” She made a hasty respect and hurried away from the balcony toward the rooms she had been assigned. She still needed time alone to think, now more than ever.

As the last of her fur fell away, Ninianee huddled in the corner of the improvised cage in the dark, narrow passage behind Hircaj Chogrun’s throne. She tried to remember where she had put her clothes when a quansaj dropped over her, engulfing her in its deep folds. Pushing herself up onto her elbows, she reached for the quansaj to spread it more completely over her naked, chilled flesh. Adjusting the heavy cloak, she dared to look up.

“Welcome back, Ninianee,” said Doms Guyon, his smile glinting down at her. He sat on the floor next to her, less than half an arms-length away from her.

She could feel color mounting in her face and neck as she straightened up beside him. “Doms, I’m sorry you had to . . . ” she said hoarsely.

“Ninianee,” he responded. “I’m not sorry, I’m relieved.”

“Bontaj!” She blurted out. This was not what she had feared, but something both much better and much worse. His tranquility bothered her, and she fixed her gaze on the opposite wall, trying to keep from looking at him.

“Not that dreadful, surely. Nothing beyond zlatz, or even sanzi,” he said, a suggestion of amusement in his ice-blue eyes.

“Were you here all night?” She saw him nod and found herself unable to say anything more, her state of mind turning to brumous despair, all the worse for being indistinct.

“All night,” he said.

She sagged. “I was hoping you’d never have to see me Changed.”

“Why? Because you were afraid I’d tell the world?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“Did you think I’d take advantage of your talent? Use my knowledge to compel you to do my bidding?”

Ninianee couldn’t conceal her shock. “No. Nothing like that.”

“But you thought I’d mind, if you told me,” Doms said as if he were discussing nothing more upsetting than breakfast.

“Do you mean you don’t?” Ninianee asked, trying to meet his gaze and failing.

“It was . . . surprising, yet not completely unexpected,” he admitted, “but why should I mind? It was apparent that something affected you at the full moon, and now I know what it is.” His smile returned. “There are stranger creatures than you abroad on Theninzalk, and I can deal with a Crag-lion who doesn’t want to fight me. And I assure you, you didn’t want to fight me, not at any time.” He gathered up her clothes and offered them to her. “At least we aren’t in Boarthinee, where you might be exposed to more dangers than the Bindomaj can provide. No reason to worry about spies here.”

Ninianee clutched at her clothes. “You’re . . . you’re not making this any easier.”

“You mean changing clothes?” he asked with simulated innocence. “I’ll turn away, if you like.”

She took the clothes, saying, “You were thinking of the spies who brought down that portion of the wall at Vildecaz Castle.”

“Yes. I saw men, not Bindomajes, and so it isn’t this Court that troubles me,” he said, all jest gone.

She thought about what he said, then coughed delicately. When she spoke again, she was deliberate about changing the subject. “It’s not always a Crag-lion. I don’t know what form I’ll take until the first night of the full moon.”

“You didn’t know you’d be a Crag-lion?”

“No, I didn’t. I never know what I’ll become,” she said, giving up the sajah and dressing hastily, shivering from cold, all the while feeling that she must be still dreaming, that she couldn’t be talking about Changing with Doms Guyon as if this were nothing more than a curiosity. “That’s what makes the first night the hardest. Tonight I’ll have more control, and tomorrow night I’ll be able to keep myself concentrated on maintaining myself even while I’m Changed.”

“What else can you become, for curiosity’s sake?” He glanced over his shoulder to see her pull on her pelgar.

“Any mammal, but limited by my own size. I was a very large Salah-badger last time, so large I couldn’t move very much; I kept to the brush at the edge of the Castle wood. My legs weren’t strong enough to bear me very far. A few years ago, at the Greenleaf Moon, I Changed to a mouse, but as large as I am. All I could do was curl into a ball and sleep, though I was ferociously hungry. My back wasn’t strong enough to keep my belly from sinking to the ground when I tried to walk, and I was afraid my limbs would break every time I wanted to move.” She said this as if admitting to a terrible crime.

“I see,” said Doms. “May I turn around?”

“All I have to do is don my boots. Turn around as you like,” she said, resisting the urge to burst into tears. No matter what he said, this discovery of her talent for Changing must have dampened his ardor in spite of his apparent nonchalance. Acceptance! Of all the responses she had expected from him, this she had thought the least likely. How could he tolerate her as a Changer? Couldn’t he see it would put him in danger? Or did he plan to exploit her Changing, make it part of his performances? She pulled on her boots quickly and handed the quansai to him. “Thank you for that.”“You may keep it, if you like,” he offered. “You may want something warmer than what you’ve been wearing. On the road I mean, not what happened to you last night.”

The last question was answered. “Then it was you who was following me! I felt someone trailing me from the time I left Vildecaz.”

He respected her. “I confess I followed you. And good thing, too.”

“You went against my orders,” she said.

“And will do so again, if such is required,” he said without dismay. “When you prepared to leave, I remembered the spies from Cazboarth, and I knew where you were going. You wanted to find your father, and to do this you sought out those who could be his enemies. You’re courageous and enterprising, but you needed someone to support you.”

“Do you think so?” she challenged.

“Having me here kept you from serious harm last night. The Bindomajes were prepared to cut off your paws to keep you inactive, but I refused permission. I thought it was best. At least Hircaj Chogrun ordered that you not be killed. It wasn’t out of deference for a Duzeon – he wanted to claim you as one of his women. I don’t quite know his reason for – ”

“Why didn’t he? Have me killed?” she asked, then added, “Or will he expect to add me to his company of wives when the full moon is past, and spared me with that in mind?”

“No, he won’t. I told him I was your official suitor, and that put an end to his plans for you.” He gave her a new, flinty smile.

She stared at him. “And he believed you?”

“Why else would a Yaolaj follow a Duzeon through the mountains with winter beginning, if not from duty as an official suitor?”

“Why else?” she echoed in amazement. “Surely you . . . What do you . . . “ She stopped in confusion. “How did you find me?”

‘That’s my talent, Ninianee. I told you last evening, though you may not remember – I can find people and things, particularly when I value them.”

Ninianee had a vague recollection of hearing something of the sort. “Tonight – what will happen tonight?”

“I have arranged for you to have an enclosed gallery in which to run. Of course I’ll stay with you.”

“You’ll stay with a Crag-lion? You saw me last night and you will endure that again?” Her incredulity sharpened her voice.

“Official suitors do such things, Ninianee.” For once there was no hint of amusement or sarcasm in his light eyes. “I would stay with you if you Changed to a drouch, or a Fahnine zyriha-cat.”

“Don’t say that. The day may come when both of those will be precisely what you face. I can’t choose what I will be, and there are times when what I am is dreadful.” Her voice sank to a whisper and she looked away from him. Then she made herself continue, “Did I . . . injure you?”

“No, Ninianee, you didn’t. Ask as often as you like, my answer will be the same,” he promised her. You kept holding back, or the Crag-lion did.”

She swung around, staring at him, her temper beginning to fume. “Is this true, or are you trying to coddle me with pleasant lies?”

“I have no wish to coddle you, or deceive you, no matter what you think. I am not cozening you now, nor will I ever. I’ll take off my clothes and you can look for scratches, if you think I am lying to you – which I would never do.” He touched her face. “It wouldn’t work.”

“But you – “ She wanted to say he had lied to Chogrun about being her official suitor but couldn’t bring herself to say something that might be dangerous to them both if they were overheard. As disconcerting as it was to go along with his deception, she said, “A pity we haven’t made your position as official suitor known.”

“How could we, with your father missing?” he countered deftly, letting her know he had already addressed that concern.

From the net-covered door, and the Reception Hall beyond came the sounds of many voices, and the unmistakable clang of weapons as a few, terse orders were shouted.

“What’s going on?” Ninianee asked softly.

“I think they’re coming to see if you have Changed back and I’m still alive,” said Doms easily. “I trust my survival won’t disappoint them.”

“Did you think you wouldn’t survive?” Ninianee asked, stung by his remark. “You said I held back, but didn’t you have misgivings?”

“No, I knew I would, because the heart of the Crag-lion is you, and no matter how we may fence with each other, you have never sought to harm me,” he said, then motioned to her to be silent and went toward the nets confining them to the slanting corridor, pausing to make his respect. “Good morning, Hircaj Chogrun. I trust you are well?”

Hircaj Chogrun studied Doms, making a belated respect. “I see you are alive, Yaolaj.”

“That I am, and none the worse for wear, though a bit chilly from drafts,” he said, offering Chogrun a respect in return before going to Ninianee and saying, “As you see, the Duzeon is well, too.”

“Ha,” scoffed Chogrun. He respected Ninianee but with a stiffness that revealed his doubts about her. “Your official suitor is far more understanding than I would be. Count yourself fortunate.”

“That’s why he is my official suitor,” said Ninianee.

“So tell me, Duzeon,” said Hircaj Chogrun, his deep-set eyes sizzling with indignation, “what is the curse that has come over you? And why didn’t you warn me of what you became.”

“No curse, Hircaj. It is a secondary manifestation of my talent. I communicate with animals because some part of me is bound to them. I didn’t warn you because I had hoped to find a secure place to withdraw for the night, so that you and I might be spared this confrontation.” She lifted her head to show she was not ashamed, but her cheeks were bright. “I am astonished that you, of all beings, would consider my talent a curse.”

“Because I am a Bindomaj? Why should that mean that I would view a Changer as anything other than cursed? You have a burden on you, and you can’t rid yourself of it.” He swung away from her to look at Doms. “You will protect us and her while you are here. As her official suitor, you must do this. Otherwise I will send her to a prison cell tonight and tomorrow night.”

Doms actually grinned at this order. “Gladly.” He respected the Hircaj to take any possible insult out of his response.

Hircaj Chogrun looked disgusted, and he returned the respect as minimally as he could. “My Housekeeper-General will appoint quarters for you, and you may have the use of them for the next three days. I will offer you a welcoming banquet on the first night after the full moon, but you will need to be gone after that.” He rubbed his forehead with his long little finger. “I had hoped that some arrangement between your House and mine could have been made, Duzeon, an arrangement that would be to our mutual advantage, but under the circumstances, that is not to be thought of. What sort of children would you produce with such a creature as I am? I wonder if a Changer can birth children at all.” He pointed at Doms. “Think well, Yaolaj. You owe more to your House than offspring of such a woman. You could be the undoing of your line, through her.”

There was a shine in Doms’ eyes that Ninianee had never seen before, a steely, dangerous sheen, yet he spoke civilly enough, in a quiet tone that carried from the ascending corridor throughout the Reception Hall. “You are my host, and for the sake of your rank and your hospitality, I will not hold your remarks against you. But it would be better, I think, if you do not say anything more to my Duzeon’s discredit.”

“I meant no slight to the Duzeon. She has undoubtedly thought about such things herself.”

Ninianee wanted to speak up in her own defense, but she felt Doms’ fingers dig into her wrist, and she stifled her sharp response. She gave Chogrun a respect and said, “Thank you, Hircaj.”