Marrec cleared his throat. “The feycoocus are guarding Calli. If they’d sensed anything important about the one who used this glove, they’d have told me.”
A corner of Bastien’s mouth turned up. He winked at Marrec. “Welcome to the club.” Of those who are “honored” by Sinafinal and Tuckerinal, he added mentally.
Scowling, Alexa took her old glove, smoothed out the scuffed fingers. Her eyes lit with anger. “I don’t like being used.”
“We will all need to watch our discards,” Thealia said, her mouth thinning.
“This wasn’t the first trap,” Marrec said. He felt the heavy weight of their focus. “I also wanted to ask if anyone noticed the lock of volaran hair tied with a ribbon reeking of evil on the Choosing Table yesterday, and if anyone knew what happened to it.”
Startled surprise swirled around the room. The Marshalls’ instinctive team connection snapped their defenses into place.
“Ttho,” Thealia said a few seconds later.
“I just mentally called Marwey,” Alexa said. “She oversaw the Choosing Table and the tokens.”
“Please explain,” asked Thealia’s husband.
Marrec said, “Near the end of the ceremony, I noticed a lock of brown volaran hair on the table nearest to the hallway door. Calli was drawn to it. She was too drugged, or perhaps is too new to Lladrana, to sense the harm of it, but I did.” He struggled with words. “The Song rising from the ribbon was…not right. It felt like a trap.”
“What kind of trap?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t in the best shape to observe.” He lifted and dropped a shoulder, frowned. “I’m not sure what would have happened if she’d picked it up, but I think it was dangerous.” He met Alexa’s eyes. “So did the feycoocus.”
“The volarans are elated with the Song’s choice of Calli as the Chevalier Exotique,” someone said. “She must not be harmed.”
Bastien said, “More than that, they believe her to be Summoned for the volaran community. Thunder and Dark Lance have told them glowing stories of her. Her actions in saving the horses have made a great impression. Every winged steed in the Castle has ‘spoken’ to the horses about Calli. I know every volaran wants Calli to fly with them.”
Marrec nodded. “She’ll do that. I don’t think she could refuse any volaran request. And she’ll want to get an idea of the different feel and flight patterns of the volarans.” He looked around the group that fought together in rare teamwork. “She will be able to gather and hold volaran minds in battle, communicate with them, work with them as a focal point.”
Thealia grunted. “I’ll make sure she takes lessons in strategy with me. You and she must practice with us. Will the Pair of you want to test for Marshall?”
Alexa’s gaze seemed to pierce him, as if she, herself, tested him right now.
“Ttho,” Marrec said. “Calli knows her responsibilities to the Chevaliers, but she plans to establish a volaran-partnering center and horse-training center. She wants a normal family and children very much. We’ll adopt.” If they lived that long.
Even as Alexa’s scrutiny relaxed, Thealia’s sharpened. “She must fight!”
Bastien said, “Every Exotique has a specific task.” He put his hand on Alexa’s. “After Calli has performed hers, we can discuss the future.” He cleared his throat. “Does anyone have a glimmering of an idea as to what Calli’s task is?”
No one answered, though a buzzing hummed in Marrec’s mind. The Marshalls consulting among themselves, no doubt.
“Have you spoken to Calli about this volaran lock and ribbon business?” Alexa said.
“Ttho.”
Her eyes narrowed.
Marrec lifted and dropped a shoulder. “She has endured much lately. She is nervous about training, about fighting. I wanted to spare her.”
Alexa nibbled her lip. “Just for now.”
The doorharp cascaded with notes.
“Enter,” said Thealia.
Marwey walked in with a scroll and closed the door. She looked nervous.
“Marwey, can you tell us about the tokens on the Choosing Table yesterday?” asked Alexa. “Who offered a lock of brown volaran hair tied with a ribbon?”
Unrolling the scroll, Marwey scanned it. “No volaran hair is listed.” In a stilted voice, she said, “There were one hundred and twenty-two tokens. The smallest was a ruby earring, the largest a helmet.” She waved the scroll. “Every person and every token is accounted for, as well as the position of the token on the Choosing Tables. I double-checked everything myself after all the objects were on the tables and before Calli entered the room.”
Marrec closed his eyes, searching his memory, delving through the haze of drugs and sexual arousal that enveloped his recall. “It was on the last table toward the east door.” He frowned. “Between a fancy, engraved silver spur and a pair of black gloves.”
Moving to the table to flatten out the scroll, Marwey scanned the drawing, matched the number assigned to the token to the list at the top of the scroll. She looked up, face paler than usual. “That’s where Faucon Creusse’s hat was.”
“But Calli took the hat and other items that immediately called to her to the center of the middle table,” Alexa said. “Faucon’s hat was one of the first she picked up. So a space must have been left.”
“And someone put the lock of volaran hair in that space,” Thealia said.
Bastien said, “Perhaps the owner of the spur or the gloves noticed who put the volaran lock on the table. I know if I’d attended the Choosing and Bonding ceremony for Alexa, and placed a special token on the table, I’d have been watching it.”
“Throughout the whole ritual?” asked Thealia.
“Perhaps not all the time.” Bastien shrugged. “But everything on those tables was special to someone. I’d check my token now and then, to make sure it was there.”
“Who’s the owner of the spur and the gloves and the other items around the space where Faucon’s hat was?”
“The hat was in the lower corner of the last table.” Marwey flushed a little. “I, um, moved it from the center table, I wanted to give others a better chance. So it was at the edge of the table. The gloves were sent to us by a young sorceress who didn’t attend. The spur belongs to Tristan Sebold.”
“Tristan flew to the alarm today, along with some of the younger Marshalls,” Bastien said.
The new Sword and Shield pair glanced at each other. The Sword said, “Sebold and his volaran both died today.”
“Both?” Thealia asked sharply.
“His volaran foundered.” The Shield frowned. Shields were more able to note what was going on during a battle than Swords. “I don’t know why.” She paled a little. “One of those new flying dreeths that breathes flames got them.”
Nothing would be left of the Pair.
The Shield wet her lips. “Now that I think on it, those—” her voice broke “—those particular deaths were like none I’ve ever seen in battle.”
Everyone at the table looked as grim as Marrec felt.
Thealia glanced at Marwey. “Please keep this confidential. You may tell your Pairling only. He can tell no one. You may go.”
Marwey’s eyes narrowed. She jerked a bow to Thealia, turned on her heel and left.
“It’s someone in the Castle with strong Power. A Chevalier or Marshall,” Bastien said.
“Not necessarily,” Thealia argued. “Others attended the Choosing and Bonding, we even have some guests still staying, not leaving until tomorrow.”
“But it’s most likely we have an enemy inside our walls,” Marrec said.
Bastien took the glove back from Alexa, ran his fingers around the seams, as if extending his senses once more to discover the culprit. “I don’t like that the person used Alexa’s glove, as if targeting both Exotiques. The way these traps were set…more like what a Sorcerer or Sorceress would do…more like how they’d think…than a Chevalier or Marshall.”
“We had no one except Jaquar and
Marian from the Tower community within our walls,” said Thealia.
“They wouldn’t—” Alexa hopped to her feet.
“Harm Calli,” Thealia finished. “Or I should say, had they wished to harm Calli, she’d be dead by now.”
“How Powerful would this person have to be to set such spells?” Marrec asked.
“Strong,” Thealia said.
Alexa retrieved her glove. “I’ll courier this to Marian. But I agree. We have a secret enemy among us.”
20
Calli woke late the next morning. Before she opened her eyes, she knew Marrec wasn’t in their rooms. She sighed and stretched. The sex had been awesome. Her body felt great…completely in tune. In fact, she’d never felt this good before, as if mind and body and…soul…Song…Magic?…were completely integrated, all harmonically balanced. And she was even thinking more in musical terms. Huh.
The first thing she saw when she sat up was a glowing white crystal ball, with streaks of milky pink and blue and brown swirling in it. Next to it was a piece of paper. She picked up the note and saw angular writing that leaned to the left…Marrec’s left-handed penmanship. She couldn’t read it, of course, and a little flutter of panic swept through her. She loved to read, to listen to audio books, and didn’t like being somewhere she couldn’t. A big disadvantage. Guess she’d better add reading and writing to her list of lessons.
She drew in a big breath, let it out noisily.
Someone cleared his throat. Calli stared around.
“Salutations, Pairling. And…uh…good morning to you—” Marrec’s voice came from the crystal ball. Fascinating.
“I have gone down to fetch breakfast for us. I recall that you like croissants and scrambled eggs.”
Breakfast in bed, had she chosen a winner or what?
“Please stay in the…uh…our…rooms. If you must go out…uh…Koz is standing guard at the door and will accompany you.”
Calli’s eyebrows snapped down. A guard?
“There are things we must discuss. I’ll see you shortly.” There was a pause, then the sound of a smooch. “Your bondmate, Marrec.”
She stared at the crystal. He’d sent her a kiss? She could imagine that small gesture might have embarrassed him. Yet he’d done it anyway. The sweetie. She chuckled, and he’d “signed” the message, as if she wouldn’t forever know the timbre of his voice from one word.
The crystal went dark. With a lingering smile, Calli used the bathroom, then went to the long, elegantly carved wooden wardrobe and dressed in bra, panties, a thin cotton shirt and leggings, a snug tunic and breeches. Her scarred old ankle boots detracted from the look. When she was dressed she realized that for the first time since she’d come to Lladrana, she was alone. No Marrec, no other Exotique, no Chevalier just hanging around her, no volaran eyes watching. It was a very odd feeling.
She sat on the bed and let the atmosphere sink into her. There were layers of herself and Marrec, and them together—echoes of their Songs already woven into this space which was their home here at the Castle.
A wide grin spread over her face and she flopped back on the soft bed as she thought of her new land. Her ranch, hers and Marrec’s. It was pretty land, the house was great and the outbuildings and fenced areas could be rehabbed into exactly what she wanted. Laughter bubbled up inside her and she couldn’t lie still anymore. She got up, crossed to the French doors and flung them open to the beautiful summer day, then stepped out onto the balcony.
It was sturdy stone and where the curve of the outer wall of their suite met the straight Castle wall, an enclosure, like an open horse box, had been included. A stall for a volaran. She smiled. Had she landed in clover, or what? Eyeing the bare box, she decided that she’d stock it with hay, make it ready for Thunder or Dark Lance.
This apartment was at the top of the hall and she wondered if there was a chute or something to take the volaran waste away. Would they actually expect her to dump it down the outside Castle wall?
She went to the edge of the balcony and leaned over to look.
A ball of energy struck her from the side. She stumbled sideways, jammed against harsh square edges of the wall. Another jolt hit her, this time Power that lifted her, spun her out over the wall. She grabbed for it, fingertips abraded the stone, slid away.
Free-falling.
Shield! someone snapped.
The volarans shoved knowledge into her mind, backed by Marrec and Bastien. Her Power whipped into a Shield. That wouldn’t help her when she hit the ground.
Two beaks caught her wrists. She screamed. Jerked.
The sound of flapping wings, more, Songs of the feycoocu, deafened her. The Power she’d formed around herself melded with theirs, boosting all.
Her descent slowed into a controlled glide, past the five stories of the Castle, the cliff it was built upon, the rising ground of the dirt road circling it.
She bent her knees. The birds let go. As her feet touched the ground, she tucked and rolled. Then she just lay there, staring at blue sky and her heart pounding so hard she thought it would jump out of her body.
Shouts filled the air, distressed trumpeting of volarans, even frightened neighing of her horses, as if her hearing had sharpened preternaturally.
Wow.
A minute later Dark Lance and Thunder had landed near her and were standing close, heads up and watching, aggressive. A war hawk settled on each volaran back.
She figured she should sit up. Running footsteps and yelling came her way. She got the idea that others who were close to her had felt her peril. Marrec, the volarans, Alexa and Bastien, a Shield, some of the other Chevaliers, the feycoocus. The little magical beings had been able to act the quickest.
Well, yeah, if they were more magic than anything else, that would make sense, wouldn’t it?
Nothing made sense. Her mind grappled with what had happened.
What had happened? Lightning from a clear sky?
Alexa was the first person to reach Calli. The little Marshall had her baton out and did a pivoting sweep of the area. “Who did it?” she demanded.
“Did what?” asked Calli.
Frowning, but not taking her eyes off the countryside, Alexa said, “Attacked you. And from where? We thought you were safe. What were you doing?”
Calli got a bad feeling about this. Her brain hadn’t wanted to let her know she’d been attacked. Not in her new home. Not in the Castle. Somehow she’d accepted that her life would be in danger when she fought on a battlefield in the future, the price for everything else. She thought she was safe in the Castle.
Apparently not.
She shoved to her feet, a little shaky like after she’d had a rough tumble from a horse. Looking up, Calli saw the jutting of the balcony around the top story of Horseshoe Hall.
It looked really far up. She frowned, checking out the Castle wall about a story below her apartment and to the north. Didn’t the wall have a walkway?
“Calli! Tell me what happened,” Alexa said, following Calli’s gaze upward.
“It must have come from there.” Calli pointed. She rubbed her side, which felt a little singed.
“What possessed you to lean out over a wall, unprotected?” Alexa demanded.
“Why shouldn’t I be able to take a damn walk on my own damn balcony?”
“Maybe because twice someone’s tried to hurt you?”
“What!”
“Shit, he didn’t tell you.” Alexa snapped her baton in its sheath.
“Who? Tell me what?” But Calli’s gut churned. “Who” was running in front of a stream of others. Marrec.
He swung her up into his arms.
“Marrec!”
“You need fuel. My wife. My woman.” He held her closely.
Alexa rolled her eyes.
Sinafinal clicked her beak. No harm done.
Tuckerinal preened. We saved Calli. He shifted feet on Dark Lance. We are the best. Then he flew up as Marrec put Calli on Dark Lance, mounted behind her. Gestured
to Alexa and Thunder. “Let’s take this private. The Marshalls’ Dining Room.”
Alexa stared at Thunder. “I’m not getting on that volaran. He doesn’t even have a saddle!”
“Good thing Bastien is right behind you,” Marrec said.
Bastien grabbed Alexa and tossed her onto Thunder, jumped on behind her. “Let’s go.” He said it and sent it mentally to the volarans.
Thunder snorted. You did not ask my permission to ride. I am Calli’s volaran.
You want to stand on propriety or do you want to see if we can find out who tried to harm Calli?
Thunder took off like a shot, angling up toward the wide walk on the Castle wall below Calli and Marrec’s apartments. Alexa shrieked and grabbed at his mane.
Landing Field, Marrec ordered Dark Lance. He rose with more dignity.
A few minutes later they had landed and the new squires had appeared to take care of Dark Lance. Marrec grabbed Calli’s hand as if he was afraid to let her go, then strode toward the Castle keep. He flung open a door and Calli tensed. He looked down at her.
“I’ve never been in the Assayer’s Office,” she said. She’d heard the place was where Chevaliers and Marshalls brought their dead monsters to be tallied…and processed.
“You want to go through the maze?” Marrec’s tone was impatient, but he didn’t pull her into the room.
“No. I can do this,” she said, and stepped into the charnel house.
It wasn’t as bad as she’d expected. There was the smell of death, strange odors that she thought must come from the dead monsters. One flayed…something…was arranged on a long counter, and she jerked her sight from it. The room was higher than it was wide or long, and held a lot of mounted trophies, like the Nom de Nom. Render paws. Soul-sucker tentacles.
Her gut shivered, but seeing the monsters again almost calmed her. These she was preparing to face, to fight. An unknown human enemy with free rein of the Castle seemed much more threatening. Today.
“Salutations.” Marrec nodded to the assayer.
Protector of the Flight Page 19