“By the gods…” she whispered, “what have I done?” She drew in a deep breath. “I have left my croft…I have been sent from Homana-Mujhar…I have ridden into a strange realm with a man I cannot understand, and he has forsaken me as easily as Shaine.” Alix clenched her fists as if to drive demons from her skull. “I have given myself to him…and now he seeks another!” She lifted her head and stared blindly at the tapestry. “What have I done?”
The tapestry did not answer her; nor did Cai. Alix longed for his warm tone and reassurance, but the hawk remained silent. She became aware of other whispers in her mind. They formed patterns and tones like the ones she had heard before the forest battle, but did not oppress her as much.
“I am gone mad,” she whispered.
The whispers and tones continued, rising and falling as any ordinary conversation. She began to separate the sounds, frowning in concentration as she tried to understand the implications. Alix dragged fingers through her hair as if to untangle the threads of the patterns and realized how tangled her hair was. She took the silver comb Duncan had given her from her bodice and began to drag it through the snarls, hoping the pain would rid her of what she could not understand.
When her hair was smooth again she braided it into a single plait, tying the end with a strip of velvet torn from her gown. Its splendor was ruined; the silken overtunic was in shreds and the hem ragged and stained. But she cared not at all for the vanished elegance of her clothing; she wanted only to win back Duncan’s regard.
When he came it was silently, without the warmth she was accustomed to. His face was drawn as he settled the doorflap behind.
“You must come with me.”
“Where?”
“To Raissa.”
“Who is Raissa?” she asked, knowing it was not truly the answer she sought.
“She is the woman who will keep you until you go before the shar tahl, and Council.”
“Can I not stay with you?” she asked softly, hands folded in her lap.
Duncan knelt and shifted the wood resting in the small pavilion fire cairn. He took up a flint and fired the kindling.
“No,” he said at last. “You would do better to stay elsewhere.”
Alix bit at her lip to fight back tears. “Then what Finn said is true…there is another woman you would have.”
His hand snapped a stout branch. After a moment he tossed the pieces on the fire, settling on his knees to face her through the rising smoke.
“When I came for you in Homana-Mujhar, Malina was cheysula to another man. I had put her from my mind. I thought only of you.”
She swallowed painfully. “But now you can no longer put her from your mind.”
He moved to her, still kneeling, and took her face in his browned hands. “I will not give you up.”
Alix stared at him, holding back the trembling in her bones. “Then what do you say, Duncan?”
“Our tahlmorra is one, Alix. I feel it, even if you do not. I will not give you up.” He sighed, brow creased. “Malina will be my cheysula, as I promised her when we were children, but you hold a place in my soul. Meijhas have honors and rights within the clan…there is no disgrace among the Cheysuli. I will keep you by me.”
Alix reached up and grasped his wrists firmly. Then she jerked his hands away. “What did you promise me! What did you say to me in the cave, when I offered to conceive your child so we would never be separated, even by your Council?”
“Alix—”
“I will be no man’s light woman, Duncan…not even yours. It is a thing I cannot consider…perhaps it is my tainted Homanan upbringing!” She glared at him. “Do you think what I did is so easy for an untried girl?”
“Alix—”
“No.”
His hand reached for her but she avoided it, sitting back on her heels. After a moment he let his hand drop back to his thigh.
“What would you do, were you free to do it?” he asked.
She scowled at him, understanding what the delicate question asked. He was perfectly capable of denying her the right to leave the clan; she expected it. But she would try it nonetheless.
“I will go back to Carillon.”
Duncan stared at her. His face was a mask but he could not quite hide the cold anger in his yellow beast-eyes.
“To be light woman to a prince.”
“No. For his help.” Alix picked at a tear in her skirt, avoiding his eyes. “He would help me in whatever I asked.”
“You cannot leave, small one,” he said gently. “I understand your feelings, but I cannot allow you to go.”
Her hand clenched in the soft velvet. “And your reason, clan-leader?”
Duncan’s face softened. “You might have conceived.”
Realization flooded her. Angrily she pressed a fist against her stomach. “If I have conceived by you, I will name the child fatherless and raise it myself!”
Duncan went white, bolting to his feet like a wounded man. He caught her arm cruelly and dragged her to her feet, ignoring her cry of pain.
“If you have conceived by me, it is mine!”
She gritted her teeth and hissed at him. “And do you not already have an unborn child, shapechanger? In the belly of the woman you will take as cheysula!”
“If it is mine I will keep it by me, just as I will if you bear me a child.”
She paled beneath the pain of his hand on her arm. “You cannot take a child from its mother!”
“Here you live among the Cheysuli,” he said grimly. “You will abide by our customs. If you will not have me then you will not, but if you have conceived, the child is mine…and a link in the prophecy.”
Alix spoke through the pain. “And will you force me to do what my mother did…run away? And bear my child in solitude?”
He drew her near. Alix stiffened rigidly as his arms went around her. It was no gentle lover’s kiss. He was forcing her, as Finn had once, and she hated it. Warring emotions filled her soul and she struck out in bitterness, but her fist was trapped between his chest and her own. Slowly, against her will, it crept up to grasp his hair and pull him closer. Whatever power he had to inflict pain on her also inflicted something deeper, and instinctively she recognized her need of him.
“Cheysula,” he whispered against her lips.
Alix jerked free of him. “I am not! You have said you will choose another…and I will not be your light woman!”
His mouth was compressed into a thin line. “Then you will be cheysula to no man.”
She lifted her head. “I will not.”
“Nor meijha.”
“Nor meijha.”
His eyes glittered strangely. “Do you hold with your Cheysuli blood, Alix? Do you follow our customs?”
“I have little choice!”
“Do you accept them?”
“Aye!” she cried bitterly.
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Then you must accept all customs as your own.”
She glared back at him defiantly. “I do.”
His hand darted to his belt and came up with his knife. Alix, terrified, spun to flee.
Duncan caught her by the heavy braid and in one slash severed it at her neck.
Alix, stumbling, gasped in shock as the hair fell away. Her hands clasped the ragged edges left to her. Duncan stood silently, dark braid hanging from his hand.
“What have you done?”
“A Cheysuli custom,” he said, deliberately casual. “When a woman refuses her place within the clan as cheysula or meijha, her hair is shorn so all men know her intent. This way she cannot change her mind.”
“I see a stranger before me…” she whispered.
He dropped the braid to the fire. It caught and smoldered, filling the pavilion with the stench of burning hair.
Duncan returned the knife to his belt and gestured toward the doorflap. “Now, rujholla, I will escort you to Raissa.”
Chapter Five
Duncan took her to a brown pavilion that bore a gold-c
olored fox on its sides. He pulled the doorflap aside and gestured her to go in; Alix did so without meeting his eyes. She felt horribly shamed without the braid, for though she still felt more Homanan than Cheysuli Duncan’s disparagement of her brought the implications of her braidless state home with real impact.
A woman stepped from behind a curtain dividing the pavilion into two sections. Her black hair was generously threaded with gray, but she had woven silver laces into multiple braids cunningly, fastening them to her head with an intricate silver comb. Her dress was fine-spun black wool threaded with scarlet ribbons at collar and cuffs, and a delicate chain of silver bells clasped her waist. She was no longer young, but she was a handsome woman. Her face reflected her Cheysuli blood with its high cheekbones, narrow nose and wide, smooth brow. Her yellow eyes were warm as she looked at Alix.
“Raissa, this is the girl,” Duncan said. “Alix.”
The woman smiled at Alix and then looked steadily at Duncan. “Who has shorn her hair?”
His jaw tightened. “I have.”
Her brows lifted. “But it is for Council to decide if she remains solitary.”
Alix heard the unspoken reproach and stole a glance at Duncan, surprised to see him bow his head in acceptance. Then it lifted again.
“She had made the decision for herself…I merely acquiesced.”
“He did not tell me he would cut off my hair,” Alix said bitterly.
Raissa moved forward. The tiny bells chimed and winked in the folds of her black gown. Her slender hand touched the ragged curling tendrils at Alix’s neck and jaw.
“I am sorry he acted so hastily. He should have explained the custom to you.” Her lips twitched with a half-hidden smile. “I have never known Duncan to act without reason, so he must have been driven to it.”
“He did it out of jealousy.”
Raissa withdrew her hand. “Duncan? Why do you say so?”
Alix slewed her eyes sideways to look at him. “He told me he would ask for me in Council…as his cheysula. Then—finding his former consort had conceived and was free again—he refused me honorable marriage and offered only to have me as his light woman.” She looked back at Raissa. “Of course I refused.”
The woman was solemn. “Among us a meijha has honor, Alix. Here she is not treated like filth, as are the whores of Mujhara. We are too few, now, to place so much value on a woman’s married or unmarried status. Meijha is not a dishonorable position.”
Alix’s stubborn chin came up. “I have much left to learn of Cheysuli customs, but this will take the most trouble, I think.” She swallowed and set her jaw. “I will not accept a lesser position with any man.”
The older woman smiled. “Ah…it is everything or nothing, with you. Well, perhaps you are not so wrong. Once I said the same to my cheysul.” She glanced at Duncan. “All of this will be settled in Council. Until her birthlines are studied and she is formally accepted, I will keep her by me and teach her what she must know. My thanks, Duncan, for bringing a lost one back to us.”
He said nothing, merely inclined his head and left the pavilion without looking at Alix. She stood there, bereft, hating Finn all the more for beginning it all with his abduction of her.
Raissa guided Alix to a gray pelt and gestured for her to sit. Alix did so, staring at her hands as they twisted themselves into the fabric of her gown. Raissa arranged her own skirts and sat down before her.
“Duncan would not offer unfairly,” she said quietly. “I know the man…he is not one to trouble a girl that way.”
“He did not know about Malina until we arrived,” Alix admitted. “But Finn wasted no time in making certain his brother learned of it quickly enough.”
“Finn has ever been jealous of Duncan,” Raissa said.
“Why?”
She spread her hands eloquently. “An elder son is ever favored by a jehan. It grates particularly hard when your own blood father favors a foster son. Hale treated them equally, but Duncan matured quickly. He felt the weight of the qu’mahlin more. And it has cost him, though Finn does not fully understand that.” Raissa’s eyes were expressive. “And now, Alix, you have given Finn reason for jealousy again.”
“I have?”
Raissa looked at her solemnly. “Would you have Finn as your cheysul?”
“No. Never.”
“You see? You will have Duncan, or none. It cannot be easy for Finn to know once again his rujholli takes precedence.” She smiled. “Wanting Duncan, you could not want Finn. I know that. They are too dissimilar. But Finn is not so bad as he seems, Alix…he might make a fine cheysul.”
“Finn stole me. He would have forced me, had Storr not kept him from it. How can you say he would be a good husband?”
Raissa smiled. “There is much of men you do not understand. But you must learn that for yourself; it is not my place to teach you such things.”
Alix recalled the determination in Finn’s face when he said he would have her. And now she was no longer promised to Duncan.
“Raissa!” she said, suddenly frightened. “They would not force me to take Finn, would they?”
Raissa glanced down at her skirts, settling the tiny bells into perfect symmetry. “This will be hard for you, I know. Particularly since you were raised Homanan and feel no loyalty for your true race.” The yellow eyes came up. “We are too few, now. The clans have been destroyed, save for us, and even now Shaine works to slay what remains of us. We need children…we need women who will bear them.” Light flashed off the silver in her hair. “You are Cheysuli, Alix. You must take your place in the future of the clan…in its tahlmorra. You must bear children for us. If you will not have Duncan, or even Finn, then it will have to be another warrior.”
“You would force me!”
Raissa reached out and grabbed her hands, holding them even as Alix sought to withdraw. “No woman wishes to be used as breeding stock, Alix! Children are a gift of the gods…not coin with which to barter! But we have too few…we are dying. You will not be forced to lay with a man you cannot abide, but the censure of the clan is no light burden to bear.”
“Then I will go back,” Alix said flatly. “I will go back to the croft.”
Raissa squeezed her hands. “No. You must stay. By the gods, Alix, you are Hale’s daughter! We need his blood.”
“Through Finn?” Alix disengaged her hands. “He is my half-brother.”
“Aye, but you were raised apart. Hale’s blood must come back into the clan.”
“Then tell Finn to get himself children!” she said angrily.
“He would do so willingly enough…were you his cheysula. Or meijha,” Raissa said steadily.
“What if I have already conceived?” Alix asked in desperation.
Raissa’s eyes sharpened. “Already conceived…you have lain with Duncan?”
Alix nodded silently, suddenly apprehensive. “Was it wrong?” she whispered. “Is it wrong to lay with a clan-leader while he rules?”
The older woman smiled. “A clan-leader does not rule…we have no kings, Alix. And no, it was not wrong. Do you think Duncan keeps himself chaste? It would be a burden no man should carry.”
Alix looked away, embarrassed. “Then what will happen?”
Raissa sighed. “Well, it would change things. The Council might be willing to let you remain solitary…they would respect your shorn hair, regardless of the reasons for it. You would have the freedom you desire if you refuse to take a cheysul, and have already conceived. But that is still a Council decision.”
“I should never have come,” Alix said. “I should never have allowed Duncan to take me out of Mujhara.”
“This is your home.”
“I should have let Carillon take me back to the croft.”
“It will not be so harsh—I promise—when you are accustomed. Alix, we are your people.”
Alix looked at the woman and saw the innate strength and pride reflected in her Cheysuli face. She put a hand to her own, tracing the identical high
cheekbones. Her skin was not so bronze; her hair not so dark; and her eyes amber, not beast-yellow…but she knew herself Cheysuli.
She sighed. “Where is Malina’s tent?”
Raissa’s eyes flickered but she said nothing of her surprise. “Near the gates. The blue one with Borrs’s lir-symbol, a mountain cat. There is only one.”
Alix took the silver comb out of her bodice and stared at it. Then she met the woman’s eyes and smiled. “I have something to return. My thanks for your kindness.”
Raissa nodded and Alix left the brown pavilion.
Alix found the blue tent and jerked the entrance flap aside, somehow not surprised to find Duncan there. But Malina did surprise her.
The girl did not look Cheysuli. Her hair was dark blond and her eyes blue. She lacked the feral, feline grace of the true Cheysuli woman, but she was beautiful nonetheless.
Duncan rose to his feet. Alix moved swiftly to the woman and held out the comb. “This is yours.”
“Mine?” Malina asked in surprise.
Alix saw she did not show her pregnancy yet; no swelling belly evident beneath the soft green gown banded with amber beadwork and bronze platelets.
“He let me use it because I had none…when I still had hair enough to need it.” She glanced at Duncan a moment, then looked back at Malina. “But it is yours. He said so, once.” Alix put the comb into the girl’s hand and silently left the pavilion.
Duncan caught her before she had gone more than five steps. He swung her gently to face him, one hand going tenderly to her shorn hair.
“Cheysula, forgive me. I had no right.”
His gentle voice nearly finished her. “I have no claim to that title, Duncan. You have given it to another.”
His hands cupped her jaw and lifted her face so he could see her welling tears. His own face was stark and tight. “You have only to say it, Alix. It is yours to decide. We would not be happy apart.”
“I would not be happy sharing you.” She swallowed heavily. “I doubt Malina would care for it, for all that.”
“Malina knows I have asked for you as meijha.”
The Shapechangers Page 14