Shifting Loyalties

by Melissa McShane

  “Alaric,” Perrin said. “We should listen to them.”

  “What?”

  Perrin moved toward the big man. “The Adornos, or whatever their true names are, did not need to reveal their identities. They might have remained in bear shape and fought us with the rest. Instead, they, as he said, have put themselves in our power. And I admit to some curiosity as to how they can exist at all.”

  Alaric didn’t move. “He’s right,” Sienne said. “They went to a lot of trouble to get us here. Doesn’t it make more sense that it was because they want something than that they wanted us dead?”

  Alaric’s grip on the sword relaxed. He lowered the blade, but kept it pointed at Jaceus’s heart. Jaceus raised a hand to rub his throat where the sword had pressed against it. He said, “Thank you. I’m sorry about all this. You weren’t meant to know the others were there until we’d explained the situation.”

  “Don’t underestimate us,” Alaric said. “Five minutes. Talk.”

  Lucan came to stand beside his cousin. He didn’t seem to care that he was naked. “Shift, everyone,” he called out.

  A rustling noise like a hundred birds flapping their wings went up from the surrounding creatures. Each werebear stretched out and shrank in on itself, their bear forms melting into human bodies. They were all tall, Sienne observed, though not as tall as Alaric, and all were powerfully built. Some were as blond as an Ansorjan, others were as dark as Kalanath, some with reddish skin and others with a gray cast to their faces. Sienne saw one…could she call him a man, when he was a were-creature? He had iron gray hair, though he didn’t appear older than Jaceus. He stared back at her as if in challenge, though he made no movement. All of them seemed to be in their prime. They were also all extremely naked, and Sienne had trouble knowing where to look. She settled for keeping her eyes focused on Jaceus as the werebears surrounding them lowered themselves to sit on the ground.

  Jaceus still didn’t look nervous, though his death was only inches away. “Were-creatures too far outside the human norm aren’t intelligent. Werewolves, for example…they’re small in their two-legged form, and they’re about as bright as a four-year-old. Their heads just aren’t big enough for a human-sized brain. But the bigger ones, like wereboars, they’re no smarter even though their brains are much bigger than humans. And there are types of werebears that are bigger even than that, and they’re even stupider.”

  “This is not the time for a comparative anatomy lesson,” Alaric said.

  “I’m just trying to explain why we’re different,” Jaceus said. “We aren’t like other weres. Could you carry on a conversation like this with a werewolf? We can learn to read, we can reason, we even create art. We have families. Maybe we’re not human, but when we’re in this form, can you really tell the difference?”

  Of course, after more than a week traveling in the Adornos’ company, the answer to that was “no.” Sienne watched Alaric, who was still poised to attack, and wondered if he saw himself in Jaceus’s argument. After all, Alaric wasn’t human, though in every essential he might as well be.

  “What’s your point?” Alaric said. “That you’re not monsters just because you’re capable of human speech and intellect?”

  “That is exactly my point,” Jaceus said. “We don’t know how we came to be, whether some wizard of the before times thought it would be fun to breed half-human creatures, or whether we arose spontaneously from the Empty Lands. It doesn’t matter. We’re just like you, with one difference. And we want the same thing you do—to survive.”

  “And you dragged us out into the wilderness as part of that need?”

  Jaceus shook his head. “We chose you deliberately,” he said, and now he was addressing Sienne, ignoring the sword pointed at his heart. “Only scrappers will go willingly into the Empty Lands, so we needed to find a scrapper team, one with a reputation for fairness and honor. And when we heard about a team with a duke’s daughter at its head, we knew we’d found the right one.”

  “But I’m not the leader,” Sienne protested.

  “We didn’t realize that before. It doesn’t matter. Your team has a connection to the king. That’s all we care about.”

  “Why? What do you want with the king?” A horrible thought shot through her mind. “You’re not going to try to kill him, are you?”

  “No.” Jaceus shook his head. “We want you to plead our case with him.”

  Alaric said, “What case?”

  Jaceus returned his attention to Alaric. “Our land is being encroached on by human settlers,” he said. “We’ve had to relocate three times in the last ten years. We’re tired of it. We want King Derekian to recognize us as Rafellish citizens and give us the same protections he gives his human subjects.”

  Alaric burst out laughing. “You have to be joking,” he said. “You’re were-creatures. You can’t live in harmony with humans—they’d always be wondering if this is the day you take someone’s head off.”

  “That’s just prejudice talking,” Lucan said. “We aren’t any more violent than the average human. Less so, because any time we attack a human, we reinforce that belief that weres are evil and vicious. We don’t want to move into human settlements—we just want the right to claim and defend our territory.”

  “I agree,” Sienne said.

  Alaric lowered his sword and turned to stare at her. “You can’t possibly.”

  “Why not? Were-creatures are dangerous because they lack human intelligence and can’t be reasoned with. They’re no more than animals. But these people…if he’s telling the truth, they’re capable of passing for human, and maybe that’s deserving of being treated like humans.”

  “But I do not understand,” Perrin said, “why you do not simply live among humans. Would that not solve your problem?”

  “We’re still weres,” Jaceus said. “Three days a month, we’re forced to take bear shape, no matter where we are. That’s not something that allows us to live in a city. But more than that—this is what we are, and we’re not ashamed of it. We don’t think we should have to pretend to be something we’re not.”

  “Where are your women?” Kalanath said.

  The abruptness of his query startled Jaceus, who looked as though he’d forgotten Kalanath was there. “They—oh. Our women don’t fight. It’s hard for us to have children, and the women are too precious to risk in combat. Swift and I—” He waved a hand at Lucan. “We were granted the authority to treat with you on behalf of our matriarch, Clever. It was a great honor.”

  “I’m not sure we’re deserving of the honor, given the mess we’re in,” Lucan muttered.

  “Then we should talk to your matriarch,” Kalanath said.

  “Hold on,” Alaric said. “We haven’t decided we’re going to treat with them at all. They haven’t been honest with us.”

  “We’re sorry we had to lie about our identities, but we wanted you to get used to us as people before revealing we’re werebears,” Jaceus said.

  “Not about that.” Alaric gestured with his sword hand at the silently watching men surrounding them. “You brought a damn army with you. Don’t think I don’t realize our deaths are in the offing if we don’t agree to your terms. You can’t afford to let us go.”

  Jaceus and Lucan looked at each other. “Told you so,” Lucan muttered.

  “I swear that’s not what we intended,” Jaceus said. “Everyone just wanted a look at you. Talk to our matriarch. If you aren’t convinced, you can leave. We’ll just ask you to swear you won’t tell anyone about us.”

  “You’d accept that?”

  “I told you, we did our research. Your word is as good as a blood oath. If you swear it, you’ll do it.”

  “Not that we won’t uproot our people and move where no human will ever find us, if you leave,” Lucan said. “Some of us aren’t as trusting as others.”

  Alaric lowered his sword. “Stay there,” he said. “Sienne will turn you into a greasy pyre if you so much as start to shift.”


  Sienne swiftly turned to the evocation burn, hoping she looked alert and fierce despite feeling completely lost. Werebears. Intelligent werebears. And they wanted political recognition. If the trees had suddenly come to life and demanded equal representation in Rafellin’s government, she wouldn’t be surprised.

  Alaric retreated a few paces to stand at Sienne’s side, and the others moved to join him. “I think he’s lying,” Alaric said, “at least about them just wanting a look at us. They have us surrounded—that’s a tactical move that says they want to cut off any line of retreat.”

  “I agree,” Dianthe said. “But I think he’s sincere in what he’s asking. It makes sense, in an insane way. I can imagine how hard it would be to stay hidden from humans, given how rapidly we’re spreading east. How much easier if they didn’t have to?”

  “But we don’t have that kind of power,” Sienne said in a low voice, not turning away from Jaceus. “I can ask the king for an audience, but he’s not bound to listen. I don’t think we can give them what they want.”

  Dianthe nodded. “But we can’t tell them that. Most of them don’t look friendly, and I think Jaceus may be sincere, but I wonder how well he can control the others.”

  “Then we’ll have to go along with them until we can find a way to escape,” Alaric said.

  “I think we should take them at their word,” Perrin said.

  “What, that they won’t kill us?” Alaric retorted.

  “No, that they are interested in treating with us. It harms us not at all to listen, and it is possible, however unlikely, that we might succeed in bringing their request before the king.” Perrin glanced over Alaric’s shoulder at Jaceus, who looked like he might be trying to listen in. Sienne wondered how good a werebear’s hearing was.

  “I can’t believe we’re even having this discussion. They’re were-creatures, for Sisyletus’s sake!” Alaric’s voice rose, drawing the attention of the nearest werebears. He lowered his voice and added, “The king will never listen to a request to give them citizenship.”

  “I think that is for the king to decide,” Perrin said. “But that is in the future. Let us first speak with their matriarch, and then make a decision.”

  Sienne heard Alaric sigh. “Do you remember how I said I reserved the right to say I told you so when this went horribly wrong?”

  “It’s not gone horribly wrong yet,” Dianthe said. “That would be if we were torn to pieces by a pack of angry werebears.”

  “It’s just past midnight. There’s still plenty of time.” Alaric walked past Sienne to where Jaceus still stood. “What’s your name? Your real name?”

  “Wit. And my cousin is Swift.”

  “Is he really your cousin?”

  “Our mothers are sisters. But it’s also true we call each other cousin no matter how we’re related. Is that really what you want to know?”

  “I’m just curious as to the depth of the lie. Now would be a good time to be forthcoming with anything else you haven’t told us. Is there actually a ruin, or was that part of the ruse?”

  “There’s a ruin, but it’s empty. I’m sorry.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Since it’s clear that’s not why we came.”

  Jaceus—Wit—took a step forward. “Does that mean you’re willing to talk?”

  Alaric sheathed his sword. Sienne, watching the crowd in case she needed to defend against a rogue were, saw the men closest to him relax slightly. “We’ll talk,” he said. “Don’t think that means we’re on your side.”

  “You messed up,” Lucan—Swift—said in a low voice. Wit elbowed him hard in the stomach.

  “I’m sorry you felt threatened,” he said. “Thank you for listening. Our home is about half a mile from here. Do you mind if the others shift back? Walking through the forest with no protection is uncomfortable.”

  Alaric hesitated. “Go ahead,” he said. Sienne could guess what he was thinking: it took them only seconds to go between one form and the other, and keeping them relatively harmless in human form would only work for those few seconds.

  Most of the men shifted back into bear form. A few dozen, including Swift, stayed human to carry their fury-blasted cousins. Sienne felt a small twinge of guilt that she instantly suppressed. They had only Wit’s assurance that the werebears wouldn’t have attacked them, and suppose Sienne’s spell had been a greater deterrent? She kept her spellbook open to fury, just in case.

  Walking through the midnight forest felt like a dream, not the pleasant kind and not a nightmare but one in which Sienne had to accomplish some task that kept multiplying. A distant howl threaded through the night, leaving Sienne feeling chilled, as if winter had reached out a cold finger and stroked her spine. Weariness, and inexplicable fear, struck her, and she wished she dared take Alaric’s hand for reassurance. But that would have made her look weak, and showing weakness to these creatures could be deadly.

  The werebears blended with the darkness, even the gray ones, leaving Sienne with the unsettling feeling of being watched by something just beyond the limits of her vision. They didn’t move silently, though; the noise of their passing was loud enough to drown out the sounds of the insects. Or maybe the insects went silent as the horde went by. Sienne guessed the weres were being loud on purpose, possibly to put their unwilling guests at their ease. She couldn’t imagine them avoiding humans if this was how they walked all the time.

  After a few minutes of walking, Sienne saw a warm orange light in the distance, then another, until firelight illuminated the last feet of their journey. She walked faster, not because she was eager to reach their destination, but because she wanted free of the dreamlike state that left her feeling disconnected and edgy. Beside her, Dianthe put out a warning hand. “Let Alaric go first,” she murmured. Sienne slowed and kept her eyes on Alaric, who strode as if he weren’t surrounded by potential enemies.

  Then they were through the trees and into a clearing—no, it was too big to be called a clearing. Raw earth around its edges showed where trees had recently been uprooted to enlarge the place, which was filled with ramshackle tents made of every conceivable material, from traditional canvas to heavy twilled cotton and even patched leather. The tents were pitched in groups surrounding campfires still burning brightly despite the late hour. Their “escort” began shifting, two and three at a time, back to human shape, peeling off from the group to duck inside tents. Other tents rustled, and women wearing shapeless belted tunics emerged, blinking in the firelight. They stood beside their tents as if guarding them, watching the companions with a wary calm Sienne didn’t understand.

  Farther back in the clearing, someone exclaimed, and darting movement flashed between the tents. A woman cried out. Alaric drew his sword and took a defensive stance, tension bleeding off him like noon heat haze. A naked child, no more than two, scampered out from between the tents and was snatched up by one of the men, who backed away from Alaric with his eyes locked on the big man. The child struggled to get down, then, with a convulsive full-body stretch, turned into a bear cub. His protector, startled, nearly dropped him, instead handing him off to a woman who appeared at his side, out of breath. Alaric lowered his sword. The woman backed away, stumbled over the corner of a tent, and caught herself before she could drop the cub. Then she turned and fled.

  “Why didn’t you wait until morning?” Alaric said to Wit. “You’ve woken the whole camp.”

  Wit shrugged. It was hard to tell in the firelight, but Sienne thought he looked embarrassed. “We were going to wait. You found out we were gone too soon.”

  “I told him you wouldn’t be fooled for long,” Swift said. He and Wit exchanged scowls, then Swift added, “I’m going to find some clothes. Don’t do anything exciting while I’m gone.”

  “I’m going to take them to see Clever,” Wit said. “Does that count as exciting?”

  Swift snorted. “She’s awake and we’ve been invaded. What do you think?” He loped off through the tents, dodging motionless women and men emerging dre
ssed in the same kind of tunics as the women. Looking at them, Sienne couldn’t help wondering what they did in the winter. They might have to stay bears the whole time, hibernate—was that even possible?

  “That’s rich, calling us an invasion,” Alaric said.

  Wit gestured at the silent audience. “You’re the first outsiders who’ve seen our home in…it must be over fifty years. And they all know why you’re here. They’re more afraid of you than you are of them.”

  “I’m not afraid,” Alaric said.

  “Then it’s doubly true.” Wit gestured. “This way.”

  He led them around the outskirts of the camp, past dozens of silent men and women and even children, most of whom looked like they would rather have been sleeping. They looked so human Sienne had to remind herself it was an illusion. And yet…they were were-creatures, yes, but they spoke and thought just like humans, so if there was a difference, it was subtler than she could manage to tell at this time of night.

  They came to a place where the clearing narrowed, or maybe it was just that there were more tents filling the space. At the center lay a much larger tent, a proper tent like the ones her father’s troops used on practice maneuvers, golden in the light of the bonfire blazing before it. Two women tended the fire, adding wood to make it burn hotter and brighter. It felt like a welcome, and Sienne wasn’t sure why.

  “This is the speaking tent,” Wit said. “It’s where Clever meets with her advisers and with people who’ve broken laws. Like a judgment seat. She’ll let us know when she’s ready.”

  “Keeping us off balance by making us wait,” Perrin said.

  “No, she just doesn’t wake readily. She needs a few moments to come fully alert.” Wit stretched unselfconsciously as a cat. In his Rafellish garb, surrounded by his more simply-dressed “cousins,” he looked like an exotic bird in a field of sparrows even though his shirt and tunic were of an ordinary, dull make.

  Sienne looked around. The werebears hadn’t been so obvious as to follow them through the camp, but they’d shifted perceptibly in their direction and weren’t pretending not to watch the companions. The woman with the child/cub had vanished. Wit had said the werebears didn’t have children easily, which made her wonder how many more cubs were in the camp. The little one had been adorable, the way most infant animals were—but it wasn’t an animal any more than it was human. The thought made Sienne uncomfortable, as if she were trying to justify treating the child as a monster. She thrust it away and tried to think of something else.