Kayla finally reached the main level and meandered through the kitchens. The servants still bustled about, almost oblivious to her as they snatched their dinner between dishes and cleaning duties.
The smell of food still made her sick, so she moved quickly through the noisy room, arriving at last at the great door leading to the cellar.
With a hand on the knob, she hesitated, listening with faint hope for Brant’s footsteps that would keep her from this insanity. But all she heard was the faint clatter and laughter echoing from the kitchen.
Here there were no footsteps, no voices to which she could cling. She stood at the border between safety and the unknown blackness before her, suddenly terrified to open that door and descend into the musty darkness she had loved as a child. In those days of games and adventure, the monsters had been innocent, make-believe. Now the terror was real. The man down there had stolen her beloved flute, and only she and Brant knew of it. Was this a trap, or a legitimate opportunity to claim what was hers by right?
Honestly, she didn’t know, but she couldn’t miss the chance. She had to try, and could only pray that T’Kato spoke the truth.
With shaking hands, she pulled open the heavy door and slid into darkness, the wood whispering closed behind her.
She stood for a long moment, her back secure against the thick oak, hands behind her ready to push it open in an instant, but no monsters came from the dark. No one jumped at her, no one called, nothing moved. Her ears could make out the scurry of rats and the faint drip-drip from the wall closest to the moat. These sounds were familiar, an echo of the past that relaxed her enough to calm the shaking consuming her.
She stepped into the darkness.
There were twelve steps to the basement. As her eyes adjusted, she made out the faint outline of the pillared, boxy rooms. The last of the evening light disappeared through the slits that marched along the tops of the high wall. If it had not been so close to sunset, Kayla knew she would have been able to see fairly well. As it was, she was guided more by memory than by her eyes.
She had no idea where she was supposed to find the thief. All the note had said was to meet in the cellar, but the cellar was an awfully large place. It ran the entire length and width of Dragonmeer.
Kayla had spent many hours as a child playing in the rear portion of the cellar. There were some fascinating old costumes and furniture back there. It seemed as good a place as any. Thenari would probably want to meet where discovery would be least likely.
Of a sudden Kayla’s nerves got the best of her, and she stopped, unwilling to go farther into the deep recesses of the dungeon without even a lantern or magelight to guide her. Instead she quietly pushed her way into one of the small rooms that stored root vegetables and hid behind the open door. Her pulse quickened and her knees trembled. The door didn’t offer much protection, but the solidity of the oak between her and the unknown, the crack that allowed her to scan the room, did a lot to make her feel better. She gathered her nerve and breath and called out, “I’m here, Thenari. Show yourself.”
Kayla waited. There was no response.
“You asked me to come, and I have come,” she yelled a little louder this time. “Will you torture me with your games? Show yourself, and bring me the flute.”
Still there was no answer, and Kayla began to grow desperate. “T’Kato! Show yourself! Please!” she begged.
Her heart nearly stopped at the soft chuckle that sounded from just outside the room. “You’re smarter than I thought, Kayla. How did you figure it out so quickly?”
Her heart pounded so loudly she couldn’t think, could hardly hear. Finally she got her nerves under control enough to answer, though her voice still quavered. “You said to come while Brant was gone, and I couldn’t think of any other way you would know he’d left unless Sarali told you. Then I looked at your name and saw how it contracted into T’Kato. It wasn’t hard,” she said.
The quiet chuckle came again, and a soft blue magelight appeared, floating just outside the door. There was the scrape of leather on stone as the giant of a man approached the door and peered through the crack at her, then gently pushed the door open and stepped into the room. She cringed and wanted to scream, being inches away from the man with swirling blue tattoos that made him look hideously ferocious.
If it wasn’t for the soft sadness of his eyes, Kayla would have cowered, shrieking at that moment, but she remembered her mother telling her that the eyes could not lie. “You can tell a lot by a person’s eyes, Kayla. Always remember you can judge the man by the windows to his soul.” She had never forgotten, and those words had led her unerringly through the years. The eyes of this fierce-looking giant said, “trust me.”
And she did.
Kayla met his eyes, the color of the Sapphire Flute, and let him see into the windows of her own soul. He seemed troubled by that, a little confused, but eventually a gentle smile settled, and he withdrew from the door. She stepped from her hiding place, no longer afraid, though the man had to be near seven feet tall and broad as an ox.
“I didn’t mean to play the flute,” she said, her face red with shame. “I didn’t think I had, since no sound came from it. I didn’t know my breath alone would bring it to life. I’m sorry, T’Kato. I really didn’t know, or I never would have done even that.”
T’Kato was silent. He looked at her, troubled, then stared into the distance, lost in thought or prayer or . . . something.
After a long moment, he spoke. “I believe you, Kayla, though I had not expected to. You show your wisdom, not only in admitting your wrongdoing, but in understanding why it was wrong.” He was quiet, then continued. “Do you know why I took the flute?” He leaned against one of the great stone pillars, his arms folded across his chest.
“Only by what you said in the letter, though why you didn’t just come and speak to me about it, I don’t know,” she answered.
“I probably should have,” he said, looking slightly embarrassed. “But I truly thought you had played the flute purposely, selfishly, and were undeserving of it. I misjudged you, and I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
Kayla was very surprised by his admission, though she shouldn’t have been. The face she presented to the world was only an act. Few knew the real Kayla, she kept herself so well hidden. If his judgment of her came from the banquet dinner and the confrontation with her grandfather, it was no wonder he had jumped to conclusions.
“Thank you.” She leaned against the door jamb, relaxing further in his presence.
“Lady Kayla, this flute is more than just a beautiful, magical instrument. It is a key, the key . . . the sapphire keystone.”
She nodded in understanding, and he continued.
“The keystones were created by the Guardians themselves to knit our world together after Mahal and S’Kotos nearly destroyed it with their battling. C’Tan wants those keystones more than anything. As long as they are inactive, she cannot find them, but once they live . . . they call to any who will listen, and she is listening very, very hard.”
Kayla thought about that and suddenly understood why she was not to play this instrument. “So when I breathed upon it, I awakened it, and now C’Tan knows where it is.”
The Ketahean nodded gravely. “That is why I had Sarali take the flute. I felt it awaken, and in order to protect it and all our people, I had to shield it from C’Tan. I only hope it was done soon enough.”
“Shield? As in magic?” she questioned, pushing herself away from the door.
Again T’Kato nodded. “I am the keeper of records and protector of the keys within Ketahe. I was told to come here and await the Sapphire Flute.”
“By whom?” Kayla demanded, but the large man only shook his head.
“That I cannot tell you.” He paused and looked her over, seeming to assess her strength before he continued, guarded and compassionate. “If you wish to save these people, you must leave here. We will protect you and keep the flute safe until the player comes to collect it.”<
br />
“The player? I thought I was the player.”
“You are its guardian, but player you are not.”
We’ll see about that, she thought, then focused on the rest of what he’d said. “Wait, you want me to leave with you? What are you talking about? Leave Dragonmeer, or Darthmoor?”
“Leave Peldane, Kayla,” he said, voicing her worst fear.
“Peldane? You want me to leave the country just because I breathed on the flute? Isn’t that a bit much?” she asked.
T’Kato shook his head before she even finished. “If you care for your home, you will get as far from here as you can. I have done my best to shield the flute, but it is possible that C’Tan can sense it even so. At the very least, she may know where it was last held and come to Dragonmeer. We must get you to a place where it can be shielded indefinitely. Until the player comes, we have no choice.”
“Can’t you just take it?” she asked, a little desperate. She couldn’t leave now. Everything had just been righted for her family. She was getting married, for goodness’ sake. She could not leave!
“It must be thus, holder of the flute. It is tuned and tied to you, as it was you who breathed it to life. Only you can carry it, and until the player comes, you are the only one who can use it. You must come away with me.”
“I think he’s right,” said a familiar voice from the darkness.
“Brant! You found T’Kato’s note!” She rushed to him. Brant took her in his arms and gave her a quick squeeze, then held her hands as he faced her.
“Much as I hate to lose you right now, you must look to the good of our home first. That’s what leaders do, Kay,” he said, giving her his haunted smile. “My father was in agreement.”
“Your father? You told him? Brant, how could you?”
“I didn’t. Sarali did. Father wanted to speak with me about it. He has to look at what’s best for his home and country too, you know. I’m only grateful this didn’t happen on purpose. I know it was an accident, that you were not informed well enough, and so do my father and the king—”
“King Rojan knows, too?” Kayla groaned.
“My father had an obligation to inform him. He feels badly that he didn’t give you a better idea of what rules apply to the instrument, and he accepts responsibility.”
“But it’s not his fault!” she defended.
“Nor is it yours, Kayla,” T’Kato broke in. “Lord Brant is right. You were not well enough informed before being given such a gift, and with your love of music . . . well, no more need be said.”
Kayla hung her head. They were right and she knew it, but part of her still wanted to take the blame. The other part was still trying to process the fact that she was leaving Dragonmeer and Darthmoor all because she was idiot enough to breathe into the flute. She looked longingly at Brant. “I can’t leave you when I have barely found you,” she whispered.
Brant chuckled, though she thought she detected tears lurking in his eyes. “Kayla, the last thing I want is to lose you, but we can’t afford to have C’Tan flaming down on us. When the danger has passed, or you have what you need, or the flute has been passed on . . . come back. I’ll wait for you.”
Kayla was desperate. She didn’t want to go, but she knew in her heart she had no choice. She slowly nodded her head in agreement. Brant put his arms around her again, held her for a long moment, then let her go.
She turned to T’Kato. The big man took her shoulders in his giant hands, giving her a surprisingly gentle squeeze. “You choose well, little one—very well indeed. Let’s find a place for you to sleep. We’ll have someone retrieve your things from home. We leave at dawn.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Dinner was without salt and season, but still was one of the best meals Ember had eaten in a long time. The wolves had shifted to human form and laid down a base of stones, put the animals on it, then covered them with more stones. They heated the rocks magically, baking the rabbits in the middle as well as any stove. Ember ate a whole rabbit on her own and would have taken more if there had been any left.
After she’d eaten her fill, and her packmates had shifted back to their natural form, they curled together near the base of the willow. For some reason, all the wolves but Shad seemed more comfortable as wolf than man. Once everyone was settled, Ember sat across the fire from her uncle and finally had the chance to satisfy her curiosity. Shad sat in the dirt and leaned against a log with a satisfied sigh.
“Uncle Shad, what was he like?” Ember asked as Shad extended his feet toward the soggy fire.
He seemed to know exactly who she meant.
“He was a good man and a great friend—the best. I’ve met a lot of people in my life, child, an awful lot, and I have yet to find one who is as caring, responsible, trustworthy, and talented as he is . . .was,” he corrected, his voice catching. She was silent, hoping he’d continue. Shad stared into the small fire, huddled for warmth as they sat protected beneath the giant willow. “I remember the first time I met him. It was supposed to be this big secret between my father and me, but he wanted me to meet my human brother. He said we were a lot alike, and I think he had regrets about leaving Asana.”
“Asana?” Ember asked. “Who’s that?”
“Your grandmother.” Shad glanced at her, then let his eyes be drawn back to the fire. “She’s a strong woman, feisty as could be, but with a lot of love to give. I’ve met her a time or two. You’d like her,” he said, giving her a half-smile. “I know my father cared for my own mother, but he never loved her the way he did your grandmother.”
“Then why did he leave?”
He shrugged. “Political reasons. The chief of the Bendanatu passed away, and Bahndai, my father, was next in line. The Elders finally convinced him he needed to return home and lead us, for the good of the people, though it wasn’t something he wanted. He just happened to be chosen.” He shifted on the log that looked even more uncomfortable than the rock where Ember sat.
“Chosen? Why?”
“It’s the eyes. The Bendanatu believe that our Guardian will show the sign of his favor through the eyes of his Chosen One.”
“What do you mean?” she pursued.
“The Chosen’s eyes are different in color than the rest of the tribe.”
“Really? I thought all wolves had brown or gold eyes.”
He shrugged again. “Usually they do,” he answered, not really paying attention to her as he began to snap a twig into little pieces and throw it into the fire.
“But your eyes are green,” she said.
“Nice of you to notice,” he answered with a hint of sarcasm lacing his voice.
The realization of what he said sunk in. “So does that mean you’re the next Chosen One?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Unfortunately? Why, Uncle? Don’t you want to be a leader?” She was surprised. He seemed so capable and wise, even if he was a jokester.
“It’s not that, Ember. Of course I want to help my people however I can, but . . .” he spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “It’s a big job. My father is a great example of the sacrifices leaders must make. He gave up the love of his life to marry a friend, because that was the ‘right’ thing to do, and he did my mother no favors by it. Much as I love my parents, there’s a part of me that wishes he had stayed with his human love and found a way to make it work.”
“I didn’t know wolf life was so complex,” she said, leaning back against the log.
He rolled his eyes. “You have no idea, Ember, absolutely no idea. Human life is no picnic, but wolf life is extremely complex, with prejudice everywhere one looks.”
“Now that’s something I do know a little bit about,” she said, trying to make light of the painful subject. Shad gave her a sympathetic grin and continued his previous story.
“Jarin was about five years old when my father took me to see him. For some reason, I thought of him as my little brother, though he was actually the elder. The Bendanatu age different
ly than humans.” A half-smile quirked Shad’s dimples to life. “He was little for his age, but he thought he could do anything. I’ve never seen such foolish courage, old or young, since then. He thought that if he could run fast enough and flap his arms really hard, he could fly.”
“You’re kidding!” Ember laughed. Shad painted a wonderful picture—it made her father seem so real and pulled him off the pedestal on which she’d kept him most of her life.
“Of course he didn’t succeed,” Shad continued, smiling at the memory, “but it quickly became a game with us. We’d run and chase each other back and forth, and pretend we were flying. When we tired of that, we just raced across the fields and through the trees. He was the elder, but I still beat him—until he took to riding me.” Shad chuckled then. “He became the wolf master and I his wolf, and he was small enough that I could carry him on my back without harm.”
Shad was quiet for a long moment then, seemingly lost in thought, and Ember found her mind wandering, imagining her father so young and innocent.
“That was the first day Father taught him to change into wolf form so he could run with us,” Shad spoke again, startling Ember out of her reverie. “It was exciting. It had been great fun playing with Jarin as a human pup, but as a wolf cub he truly became my brother. We spent the time rolling and running and sniffing until Asana called him home. She never knew we came to see him, didn’t know her husband was so close. Believe it or not, she never knew her husband was a wolf.”
“No!” Ember gasped. “How could she not know?” She sat forward in surprise. The fire popped, spitting sparks, and she leaned back again, away from the flame.
“He didn’t choose to tell her. In her eyes, he just disappeared one day, with no explanation. He was gone for two years before he came home for her. It had taken him that long to convince the council to accept a human amongst them, but when he showed up on her doorstep to explain, she would not speak to him. The stubborn woman sent him packing, wouldn’t even listen, and so he returned to the Bendanatu, and they haven’t spoken to each other since. The pride between the two of them . . .” Shad shook his head. “I’ve been trying for years to get one or the other of them to take the first step, but they think it’s too late, despite the regrets. They won’t even try.”
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