Shifting Loyalties

by Melissa McShane

  Sienne helped unload Button and tried not to think irritated thoughts about the Adornos, who continued to stand well to one side. True, it wasn’t their burden, but it wasn’t as if unloading a donkey was that much work. Alaric squatted near Button’s head and spoke soothingly to him, keeping him calm as they worked. Aside from a few spastic movements of his undamaged legs, Button didn’t seem distressed. How much of that was due to Alaric’s presence, Sienne didn’t know, but she was grateful for it.

  When all the equipment was unloaded, Perrin took a green-smudged blessing from inside his vest and pressed it to the leg Alaric indicated. “O mighty Lord, have patience in your crankiness, and grant me this blessing.”

  Button went very still as green light flooded up his injured leg. His large brown eyes regarded Sienne placidly, as if this were perfectly normal instead of the first time they’d had to use a healing blessing on him. The light faded, and Alaric and Kalanath helped the donkey rise in an awkward scramble.

  “Miraculous,” Lucan said. “Your avatar is willing to heal an animal?”

  “The avatars grant us healing blessings and expect us to use our wisdom in invoking them as we see fit,” Perrin said. “They do not enjoy seeing creatures in pain, even those lacking in human intelligence.”

  Sienne started handing things to Alaric and Dianthe to load back onto Button. “Did you think God only reserves Her gifts for humans?” she asked.

  “Actually, I hadn’t thought about it, but yes,” Lucan said. “I’ve never seen blessings invoked on anyone but humans.”

  “God loves all Her creations, or so I was taught,” Perrin said, “and we are expected to reflect that love in our treatment of them.”

  “That’s the last of it,” Alaric said, tightening a rope. “Let’s head out.” He tugged on Button’s lead, and the animal stepped out as if nothing had happened.

  “I don’t understand,” Jaceus said. “How do you justify killing things if they’re God’s creations?”

  Alaric looked over his shoulder at them. “Most monstrous creatures are man’s creation, not God’s. And I doubt God expects people to lie down and be eaten rather than defend themselves.”

  “But what about the creatures that came about…all right, not naturally, but through contact with the contaminated spaces in the Empty Lands? It’s hardly their fault they were created.”

  “Jaceus,” Lucan said.

  “No, I want to understand this. If God is so understanding, why would She allow the creation of creatures that fall outside Her protection?” Jaceus sounded angry for the first time since Sienne had met him.

  “I am still relatively new to my faith,” Perrin said, unfazed by Jaceus’s tone, “but I worshipped Gavant for more than thirty years before my conversion, and a priest of Gavant would say it is not our place to decide which creatures partake of God’s grace. Gavant’s priests and divines spend many hours in study of God’s love, as Gavant was known for his charity and kindness to all and his ability to see beauty in the ugliest of creatures. Gavant taught that we should endeavor to see others the way God, who delights in our imperfections, sees us, and not to fear creatures who seem monstrous simply because they are other than ourselves.”

  “Which doesn’t explain why you kill monsters.”

  “We aren’t monster hunters,” Alaric said, a little impatiently. “We don’t kill except in defense of human life. I don’t think any avatar would object to that.”

  “That makes sense,” Lucan said, swiftly cutting off Jaceus’s reply. “Killing in defense of one’s own…that’s something everyone can understand, right, Jaceus?”

  Jaceus frowned. “I suppose so.”

  “We don’t kill unless we’re aggressed on,” Sienne said.

  “But you would never kill, would you, my lady?” Jaceus asked. It was almost a plea.

  Sienne suppressed memories of a green ray, turning men to ash. “I’ve killed,” she said shortly. “It’s not something I like to dwell on. They would have killed me, so I don’t regret…no, what I regret is that there wasn’t another option.”

  Jaceus fell silent. She thought he looked disappointed, and felt momentarily guilty at having ruined his worshipful image of her. Then she felt stupid. She wasn’t any better than anyone else just because she’d been born noble, and if this knocked her off the pedestal the Adornos had erected for her, so much the better.

  As if the accident had dampened their spirits as thoroughly as the rain had soaked the trees, nobody spoke for the rest of the afternoon. Sienne caught herself looking past Alaric’s broad back eagerly, as if their destination would be visibly different from the rest of the forest. If they would only have a few hours of daylight when they reached the ruin, Alaric would probably want them to get an early start exploring the next morning instead. She tried not to walk faster than the rest of them in her impatience.

  After a few hours, Jaceus and Lucan took the lead. Alaric dropped back to walk next to Sienne. “Try not to look conspicuous,” he said, “but I think you should have your spellbook ready.”

  Sienne tucked it into the curve of her left arm. “Do you really think they intend treachery?”

  “I don’t know. This is a long way to go for a simple ambush. But I want us to be on our guard.” He dropped back farther to speak to Kalanath in a low voice Sienne couldn’t make out. Beside her, Perrin caught her eye and nodded. Whatever happened, she and her companions would be ready for it.

  The slender pines made the sun invisible, but it was easy to tell when the light began to fade. Jaceus and Lucan didn’t show signs of slowing at all. “How much farther?” Alaric asked.

  “Not much,” Lucan said. “We can reach the ruin by sunset. There won’t be time for you to explore it, but you’ll be close.”

  “Maybe we should camp sooner than that,” Sienne said. “It’s not like we need to be right next to it at night, and making camp is always harder in the dark.”

  “But—you don’t want to see it? We’ve come all this way,” Lucan said.

  “We’ll see it in the morning,” Alaric said. “Half an hour more, and we’ll make camp whether or not we’ve reached the ruin.”

  “All right,” Jaceus said. Sienne caught the glance he threw Lucan, a warning look she didn’t understand. Whatever was going on, Sienne was sure there was something strange about the ruin the Adornos hadn’t told them.

  Half an hour passed with no ruin in sight. The light dimmed until Sienne had to squint to see her companions, dark blotches against the trees except for the fair-haired Alaric. “We’ll stop here,” he said, lowering his pack to the ground. Sienne gratefully followed suit and cast about for a place to put a fire. Her awareness that an ancient wizard’s ruin lay nearby made her feel even more than usual the need for a fire’s comfort and security.

  They ate in silence seated around Sienne’s fire, then sat in silence, with even the talkative Lucan quiet. Sienne leaned against Alaric and breathed in the smell of wood smoke. It was one of her favorite smells, reminding her of good times with her friends and the peace of an evening following a long day’s hike. And if her parents had their way, she wouldn’t have this anymore.

  “What’s wrong?” Alaric murmured. “You just went tense. Did you see something?”

  “Just thinking about my parents, and the dukedom.”

  “There’s nothing you can do about it now.”

  “I know. But if the king won’t listen to my petition, I don’t know what else to do.”

  “You intend to speak to the king?” Lucan said.

  “I hope to, yes.”

  “It’s because you are a duke’s daughter, right? The king won’t speak to just anyone.”

  “Anyone can petition for a moment of the king’s time. My being a duke’s daughter makes it more likely that he’ll see me.”

  “That seems unfair,” Jaceus said.

  “Maybe.” Sienne stretched and felt Alaric’s arm go around her more securely. “The king is busy, and he’d be overwhelmed by peti
tioners if he heard the pleas of every person who approached him. It’s not so much that he respects his nobles more than commoners as that he has a better idea of the seriousness of our requests because he knows us better. That makes it easier for him to decide who to see. He might turn down my petition regardless.”

  “We thought…you wouldn’t have to worry about that. That the king would listen to you,” Lucan said, exchanging another of those strange glances with Jaceus.

  “I don’t think he’ll turn me down. What I have to ask is important to the future of my parents’ dukedom.”

  “He did not strike me as irrational, when we met him,” Perrin said. “I am certain he will hear you.”

  “You…the rest of you have met him, too?” Jaceus exclaimed.

  “It was memorable,” Alaric said dryly. “He’s a brave man, for all I dislike him.”

  “Dislike your king?”

  “He’s not my king. And he hit Sienne. I haven’t forgiven him for that.”

  Jaceus and Lucan wore identical shocked expressions that made them look more related than ever. “He…hit you, my lady?” Lucan whispered.

  “He was pretending to be angry with us to get information,” Sienne said. “It was…complicated.”

  “Even so—”

  “We saved his life,” Dianthe said, “but we had trouble proving it.”

  “He was generous even though he did not need to be,” Kalanath said. “He is not my king either, but I think he is a good one.”

  Jaceus sat back, propping himself on the heels of his hands. “So he’s generous and rational, but complicated?”

  “Yes,” Sienne said. “I think he’s doing a good job, as king.”

  “Then…” Lucan said, but didn’t complete his thought.

  Dianthe yawned. “I’m ready for bed, and an early start. I’m eager to see this ruin.”

  “You won’t be disappointed,” Jaceus said.

  Sienne kissed Alaric and followed Dianthe to their tent, removing her boots and leather vest but otherwise staying fully dressed. “Did Alaric warn you about possible treachery?” she asked.

  “He did. But it’s hard to picture either of the Adornos betraying us, however strange they are. Didn’t you think it’s odd how upset they got at the idea of killing monsters?”

  “Yes. Especially for two people whose settlement is most of the way into the Empty Lands. Compassion for monsters that eat babies isn’t a survival trait.” Sienne lay back with her spellbook cradled in one arm. “I don’t know what to make of it.”

  “We just have to be alert, like always,” Dianthe said, settling into her own bedroll. Moments later she let out a gentle snore. Sienne lay awake for a while, listening to the night sounds of insects and people shuffling around, until she, too, fell asleep.

  She woke to someone shaking her foot. “Alaric?”

  “It is me,” Kalanath said. He was little more than a dark shape in the light of the banked fire. He shook Dianthe’s foot. “The Adornos are gone.”

  That woke Sienne fully. She clutched her spellbook and sat up. “How long?”

  “I do not know. I had a…feeling, and I looked inside their tent. They are not there. Alaric said to wake all.”

  Sienne didn’t press him for details on his “feeling.” Kalanath was prone to moments of insight whose source he refused to talk about, and now wasn’t the time to address it. She pulled on her boots and crawled out of the tent, followed by Dianthe. Alaric and Perrin stood beside the fire. Alaric’s head was lifted as if he were a blond pointer hound, scenting the wind. “We don’t know how long they’ve been gone,” he said. “With the way their tent is constructed, they could have crept out the back without anyone noticing.”

  “I would have noticed,” Dianthe said. “I put some dry branches back there, just in case they tried something like that. They must have taken advantage of the change of watch when I went to wake Kalanath.”

  “Then they’ve been gone about half an hour. Perrin?”

  “I have one scrying blessing left that will give us the presence of sapient minds,” Perrin said, taking out his riffle of blessings. “But the range is not far. Half an hour might put them outside it.”

  “Do it anyway,” Alaric said. “If they went to get compatriots, they’ll be returning soon, and I want fair warning.”

  Perrin nodded. He crouched to draw a circle near the fire with a thin stick, then tossed the stick aside and invoked the blessing. The circle filled with sapphire blue light that pulsed several times, then faded. Alaric swore. Sienne looked, and felt a chill shiver up her spine. Five blue dots of light grouped at the center of the circle. That was her and her companions.

  Surrounding them, thronging the outer edge of the circle, were dozens of blue lights. They packed so closely together in places they were a single mass of light, indistinguishable as individuals.

  “We have to move,” Alaric said. “We can’t let them surround us.”

  “They’re already surrounding us,” Dianthe said. “Kitane’s eyes, there must be a hundred of them.”

  Alaric took the stick Perrin had used and pointed. “There are fewer of them on the northwest. We’ll have to run for it. Leave everything but Button. Let’s go.”

  Stumbling in the darkness, they ran northwest, not pausing even for Sienne to cast cat’s eye, which would have given them the ability to see in the dark. Beside her, Perrin urged the donkey on. Button ran in silence, as if he could feel the urgency and didn’t want to waste his breath. She tripped, caught herself, and ran on, her chest aching with exertion. She hoped whoever, or whatever, was converging on them had as much trouble with the darkness as they did.

  Alaric stopped in front of her, and Sienne ran into him before she could stop. He grabbed her arm and hauled her in front of him. “Fury,” he said.

  Sienne’s spellbook fell open to the powerful evocation. Ahead, she saw movement, several lumbering forms that came toward them with ponderous inevitability. She made a light and began reading out fury almost before it illuminated the page. The enemy faltered as if the light had startled them, then continued moving. She didn’t dare look up from the book to see what they were, but as she read, Perrin said, “Those are no mere animals.”

  “Werebears,” Kalanath said, his voice hollow. “What did those men lead us to?”

  The evocation built in her chest, pressing on her heart and lungs and making her voice go thready from lack of air. She spat out the last acid-edged syllable and the spell leapt away from her, fracturing into half a dozen bolts that flew to strike their targets. Six massive forms staggered and fell. The other werebears roared, and charged.

  Alaric put himself in front of Sienne and drew his sword. “Break through the line,” he shouted. “Sienne, get behind them!”

  Sienne flipped to jaunt and started reading the sharp, jagged syllables that filled her mouth with blood. She prayed silently that she would reach her destination; jaunting when you couldn’t see clearly could simply fail, and it was crucial she not fail. Beside her, Perrin held a blessing ready. Dianthe and Alaric drew their swords, and Kalanath stood poised, ready to attack. Button shifted nervously, surrounded by clawed and fanged enemies. His fear echoed her own.

  “Stop!” someone screamed from behind them. “Don’t do it!”

  Sienne broke off the summoning midstream and turned to face this new threat. Jaceus Adorno raced toward them, stumbling over hidden branches and catching himself through sheer willpower. “It’s not what you think!” he shouted. “They won’t hurt you!”

  Alaric hadn’t turned around. The werebears had halted some twenty feet from the companions, some of them standing on their hind paws, all of them looking black in Sienne’s magic light. “And why should we believe you?” he said.

  Sienne screamed, “Jaceus, look out!”

  Behind Jaceus, one of the werebears ran ponderously toward him, rearing up on its hind legs to attack. Sienne turned to force and began reading, her heart in her throat. She would be too lat
e, and Jaceus would die.

  Then she stopped, astonished. The bear’s body stretched impossibly wide and tall, like wax softened in the summer sun, then shrank down to a slightly shorter, slimmer human form. Dark brown fur receded and became darkly tan skin. The werebear’s muzzle shrank and shifted to become a human face, and its small black eyes turned brown and wide with fear. Sienne found herself looking at the naked form of Lucan Adorno.

  Sienne’s nerveless fingers let the spellbook fall to hang loose in its harness by her side. “What…” she began, her voice almost inaudible.

  “We need to talk,” Jaceus said.

  12

  Swifter than thought, Alaric crossed the distance between them and put the edge of his blade to Jaceus’s throat. “You led us into an ambush,” he growled. “That says more than any amount of talk could.”

  Jaceus swallowed, making his throat rise and fall against the sword, but otherwise looked far too calm for a man in his position. “It’s not an ambush,” he said. “We weren’t going to hurt you.”

  “Dozens of you against five of us,” Dianthe said. “Why so many if you didn’t intend to kill us?”

  Jaceus said nothing.

  Sienne exclaimed, “You’re were-creatures! Weres aren’t intelligent! How can you possibly exist?”

  “Most weres aren’t intelligent,” Lucan said. “We’re the exception.”

  “I don’t care,” Alaric said. “Tell your friends to back off. You’re coming with us until I’m satisfied we’re well away.”

  “We weren’t going to hurt you,” Jaceus repeated. “We brought you here so we could talk. We’ve put ourselves in your power so you’d trust us. Please, just five minutes, and if you still don’t believe us, you can go.”

  Alaric laughed. “Are you that naïve, or do you think we’re stupid? You can’t let us go. We know your secret. We might tell the king, and he’d send an army to wipe you out.” He pressed the blade closer, and Jaceus went up on his toes trying to get away from it.