The Shapechangers
Page 15
“She knows?”
His hand smoothed back a ragged tendril of hair. “It is often done among us, Alix.”
“I cannot.” A tear spilled over and slipped down her cheek.
“And if you have conceived?”
She closed her eyes and put her forehead against his chest. “Why must you take her back? What I have done is no light thing for me, and now it is all for naught. Duncan…I did not know I would have to fight a woman and an unborn child. I thought I had only to think of the Council.”
“I am sorry, small one. I did not intend this.”
Alix sucked in a trembling breath. “They will try to make me take Finn as a husband.”
His hands stiffened. “What do you say?”
“Raissa told me. It is doubtful I can keep my wish to remain apart.” Alix shivered. “Unless I have conceived. Raissa said it would change matters.”
“Aye, you could live apart with the child…or become meijha to me. Which would you choose?”
She lifted her head. “I have said I will be meijha to no man, Duncan. Even you.”
“And Finn?”
“I want no one but you.”
“I have said how you may have me.”
“And I have said no.” She stepped back from him and smiled sadly. “Perhaps Finn will have the forcing of me yet.”
“Alix…”
“Duncan, I know there is much of the Cheysuli I cannot comprehend. But there are things in me you cannot comprehend. Do not ask me again to be your meijha, for I will not.”
She waited for his answer. When he said nothing at all, remote and unattainable before her, Alix turned and walked away.
Alix felt the weight of her decision as she walked slowly back to Raissa’s pavilion. She knew, instinctively, Duncan wanted her as much as she him, but the pride inherent in his race would not allow him to come after her.
Nor will mine allow me to accept his offer.
She considered it carefully again, as she had since Duncan first suggested she be his meijha. The shiver of distaste that ran briefly through her body once more told her she could not be so free with the man she loved. It was not a Homanan custom.
If I cannot have him to myself, I will not have him at all.
But the decision, once made, gave her no contentment.
She slowly became aware of the voices as she walked. They were different from those she heard spoken by Cheysuli in the Keep; these were not sounds her ears heard but what her mind sensed. Alix fingered her brow as if touch might tell her what it is, but no answer came. Whispers floated through her awareness, drifting in wisps of tonal patterns similar to what she heard as words from Cai and Storr.
Alix stopped abruptly, staring around to search for those who tormented her, but no one seemed to pay her mind except passing curiosity. The Cheysuli, she had learned, did not exhibit the open emotions of the Homanans.
She pressed hands against her head as the oppression increased. No one said anything to her, yet she was so sensitized to the gentle waves of sound in her mind that she thought she had gone mad. Alix stopped walking and waited for the madness to take her completely.
Liren, do not fight so, said Storr’s gentle voice.
Alix opened her eyes and saw the wolf before her. She gasped and knelt, putting grasping hands to his neck ruff.
Storr, is this a punishment? she wailed silently. A curse?
It is a gift, liren, from the gods. It is only new to you.
Alix glanced up as a shadow passed over her. Cai circled in the air, dipping and playing among the currents.
Liren, he said, you must learn to control your gifts.
Control them! she cried, startled.
Come with us, Storr said gently. Come with us, liren, and we will teach you.
They took her out of the Keep, to a huge oak scored with an old lightning-wound. The charred hole left behind was enough to hide her, and Alix crawled into it as if seeking security in a mother’s womb. Storr lay down at her feet and Cai perched on an overhead limb.
“What must I learn?” she asked aloud.
To accept, Cai said. Not to rail against your tahlmorra.
“You are Duncan’s lir,” she accused. “You will support whatever he says.”
I am his lir but I am also myself. I am not a dog, liren, who answers its master’s voice with unthinking loyalty. I am of the lir, and we are chosen by the gods.
Storr’s tone agreed. We are not echoes of those we bond with, or I would have all of my lir’s faults.
Alix laughed softly and stretched out a hand to caress Storr’s silver pelt. “You have none of Finn’s faults.”
Then will you listen?
Her hand fell away. “Aye.”
Cai mantled once and settled more comfortably. You bear the Old Blood, liren. It has gone out of the clan. You will bring it back.
“By bearing children.”
Aye, Cai agreed. How else does a female give more to the world?
Alix scowled at her bare feet.
Storr’s eyes glinted. It is not that you do not want children, liren, he said. It is that you wish to choose who will father them.
“Aye!” she shouted. “Aye, you have the right of that!”
We cannot tell you who to take, Cai said calmly, ignoring her outburst. That is for you to decide. But we can aid you accept your tahlmorra, and the gifts the gods have given you.
“What have they given me?”
The ability to hear us.
Alix frowned. “I have ever heard you. From the beginning.”
But you hear us all, liren, Storr said. Each lir in the Keep.
You are not mad, Cai said reassuringly. It is only you hear what no one else hears.
“I hear…” she whispered distantly.
The weight in your mind, Storr told her. It is the voices you hear, when the lir converse. You must set it aside until it is needed.
“And if I cannot?”
Then it could drive you mad, Cai said at last.
Alix closed her eyes. “It is a curse.”
No, said Storr. No more than the ability to take lir-shape.
Her eyes snapped open. “I could shapechange?”
You have the Old Blood, Cai said quietly. And with it comes all the old gifts.
Alix set a hand against the tree as if to steady herself. Her thoughts ranged far ahead of what she had just heard, conjuring visions of herself in the shape of any animal she wished. Then she frowned.
“I have no lir.”
You need none, Storr told her. That is what the Old Blood means…freedom to speak with all lir and assume any shape.
“By the gods!” she whispered. “How is it possible?”
Others have also asked that, Storr said, sounding suspiciously like Finn. But they have not been the get of the gods.
She slanted him a sharp glance. “No one else in the clan can do this?”
No. It is a thing long lost to us, for the Cheysuli have taken Homanan women to increase their numbers. It has weakened the gifts. Storr paused. It is for you to bring the Old Blood back.
“We begin again,” she said suspiciously. “You have said this before.”
That does not make it less true, Cai commented.
She craned her head to stare up at the hawk. “Then teach me,” she said. “Show me what it is to shapechange.”
First you must decide which of us to bond with.
She considered it. “Flight must be difficult. Perhaps it would be better if I remained earthbound, this first time.”
You are wise, liren. My lir near broke his arm his first time in the air.
Alix, struck by a vision of Duncan having difficulties, laughed aloud and nodded. “Then I will be a wolf.”
Storr approved. Then listen, liren. He paused. Your sight, while good, has become secondary to your ability to smell. Allow yourself to judge the world by scent, liren. The earth, trees, insects, worms, birds, leaves, pollen, breezes. And more. Do not depend solely on
mere sight, for it can fail. Think with your nose.
She concentrated, closing her eyes and trying to separate individual scents.
Now you must feel the damp earth beneath your paws; mud clinging to your claws. Be wary of sharp stones that can trap themselves between your pads, and thorns that pierce the tender webbing between toes.
Alix put her hands to the moldy, leafy ground and felt the dampness.
Winter is coming. Your coat must be thick and warm. A heavy layer of fat forms beneath your skin, thickening your undercoat. It itches, but you know it will mean added warmth in the coldest season. Your tail grows bushier, more luxuriant, and you are lovely, liren.
She was.
You have the endurance to travel many leagues in a single day, without food and little water. Your sinews and nerves are strongly knit and your heart is large. You are young and strong and joyous in life.
Alix felt warm blood pulsing through her veins; felt the vibrancy and exhilaration of youth. She opened her eyes and met Storr’s on a level, realizing she knelt in the leaves like any four-footed creature.
The world spun. It picked her up like a leaf on a whirlwind and turned her upside down.
Alix put a hand out toward Storr, silently asking his help, but she saw only a padded, furred paw with black nails.
She cried out, and heard her voice echoing in the woods like the howl of a lonely wolf.
Disorientation took her. Dizzily she clasped her head in her hands, conscious they were human once more.
“Storr…” she said weakly.
It was too fast, liren. You must not fear the shapechange. You cannot harm yourself in lir-shape, but it is not wise to shift too quickly. The mind cannot adjust.
Slowly her stomach settled itself. Her eyes saw clearly again and the ache in her head died to nothingness. She smiled wearily, triumphantly, and looked into the wolf’s wise eyes.
“I have done it.”
It will be better, after this.
Perhaps, Cai said gently, you will amaze even my lir.
Chapter Six
Alix sat hunched on the broken stump of a felled tree, toes digging through the velvet of her court slippers into the soft ground. The slippers were torn and stained, nearly useless, for they had been made for Shaine’s palace and not the wildness of a Cheysuli Keep. Her ruined gown had been changed for a woolen dress of palest orange; her ragged hair trimmed so that it did not straggle so much, but she had retained the slippers to recall her brief moment of glory.
The glory had gone. Only in her dreams did she recall the richness of Homana-Mujhar and the fine glittering city surrounding its rose-colored walls. Her days left her no time to think, for the hours were filled with Raissa’s words as she taught Alix the customs she must know. Her hands were never still; she needs must learn how to weave a tapestry, how to tend two fires at once, how to cook Cheysuli dishes…and how to prepare herself to take a cheysul. The shar tahl had yet to see her personally but Raissa said there was no need; the man spent his time researching the birthlines to trace her history and ancestors so that no one could question her birth.
They bind me… she thought. They seek to bind me tightly within the coils of their prophecy, so I have no choice but to do as they wish.
Alix smoothed the soft wool over her knees, fingering the nap. She had been shocked to find the skill so evident in Cheysuli craftsmanship. She had grown up believing them little better than barbarians without the niceties of Homanan culture and crafts, but five days with the clan had already altered her perceptions. Their fabrics were close-woven and fine, dyed muted shades of every color and often beaded with semi-precious stones or brightened with gleaming metals.
And the jewelry… Alix realized even the finest of Mujhara’s goldsmiths could not match the skill of Cheysuli craftsmanship. The warriors wore thick lir-bands on their arms and a single earring, but their talents stretched farther than that. Already Alix had seen small casks filled with delicate ornaments fit to bedeck any king or queen.
A strange thing…she thought, that a race so dedicated to war can also make such delicate, beautiful things.
The hands came over her shoulders and rested there, one thumb caressing her neck. The intimacy of the touch brought home all the longing she felt for Duncan, for he had not seen her except in passing. Alix lowered her head and stared blindly at the leaf-carpeted ground, wishing Duncan would not play with her emotions so.
“I have missed you,” he said.
Alix stiffened and spun out from under the hands, leaping up and stumbling away. Finn’s hands slowly dropped back to his sides.
Her breath came harshly, whistling through her constricted throat. One hand spread across her neck, guarding it; the other tangled itself in her skirts.
“What is it you want of me?” she asked.
Finn’s lips twitched. “That, I think, you know already.”
Alix lowered her hand and stood stiffly before him. “Why have you come?”
“To speak with you.” He sat down on her deserted stump and stretched out his legs. Thigh muscles bunched and rolled beneath the snug fit of his leather leggings. His face still bore the thread of pinkish scar tissue over one black eyebrow.
“What would you and I have to speak about?”
“You and I,” he said quietly.
Alix frowned at him. “I do not understand.”
Finn sighed and gestured. “I will not leap on you, meijha, I promise. But I cannot speak to you if you persist in being so frightened of me. Your eyes are like those of a doe when facing a hunter.” He smiled. “Sit, if you will.”
Alix hesitated, still defiant before him, but she was caught by the lightness in his tone. He had shed the ironic mocking she hated so much. Carefully she settled down in the leaves and spread her skirts around her folded legs.
“Council has been called for this night.”
She felt blood leave her face. “Council…”
“At sunset.”
“What is the subject of it?”
“All manner of things; many of which concern you.”
Alix bit at her lip. “I thought it might be that.”
“I have come to save you some trouble.”
Her chin lifted. “You do not save trouble, Finn; you make it.”
He had the grace to color. “For you…perhaps I did. I admit it.” He smiled crookedly. “But admitting is not an apology, and I will never apologize for following my judgment.”
Alix stared at him, growing more baffled by the moment. “Finn, you had best be plain with me.”
He pulled his legs in and sat upright on the stump. “You did not conceive.”
Heat coursed through her face as she went rigid. “What do you know of it?”
His eyes were amused, though he did not laugh at her. “Among the Cheysuli such things are not kept locked behind doors. We are too few to look upon it as a woman’s mystery. It is a reason to rejoice, Alix, when a Cheysuli woman has conceived.” He paused as she stared hard at the ground. “Raissa told me when I asked this morning. There is no child.”
“Raissa had no right to tell you anything, nor you the right to ask.”
“I had every right. I intend to ask for your clan-rights in Council this night.”
Alix’s head jerked up. “No!”
“Duncan will not have you,” he said ruthlessly. “That has been made plain to all of us. He will take Malina, as he has ever intended. There is no hope left to you.”
“There is ever hope,” she said fiercely, though she knew he was right.
He moved off the stump and knelt in the leaves before her, catching her hands before she could escape his closeness.
“You have said you will be no man’s meijha. That is your Homanan blood speaking, but I will respect it. I am not entirely blind to your needs, Alix.” He smiled at her ironically. “I will sacrifice a part of my freedom.”
She tried to break free of his clasping hands but could not. Once again she felt helpless, trapp
ed, and the familiar fright rose up. She knelt before him, trembling, hands icy cold in the warmth of his.
“Finn…I cannot. There can never be peace between us. You made that impossible from the very first day. I would hardly be a docile, accommodating cheysula.”
His grin flashed. “If I wanted that sort of cheysula, I would never ask for you.”
She managed to glare at him. “Then why do you ask for me?”
“I have wanted you from the beginning,” he said deliberately. “I will take you however I can get you.”
Alix recoiled from him, finally breaking free. “I would never take you…never! By all the gods, Finn…you are my half-brother! You stole me! You took my life and destroyed it, and now you seek to make a new one I want no part of. It is Duncan I want…not you!”
His face remained set and closed, but the color drained slowly until he resembled a dead man. But the intensity in his eyes showed his blood still ran beneath his flesh.
“Duncan wants Malina,” he said coldly. “Not you. Else he would renounce the old oath he made to her so long ago, and take you as his cheysula.” He shrugged dismissively. “You will grow out of wanting Duncan, my Homanan rujholla, if only because such desires die if not fed.”
“There is ever hope,” she said blankly.
“There is none,” he told her. “You turned from Carillon to Duncan. In time, you will turn from my rujholli to me.”
“You cannot make me!” she cried.
“I will not have to.” Finn glanced down at his hands as he idly separated the leaves by colors. “I spoke to the shar tahl. You will be acknowledged at Council, and formally accepted into the clan. With that acceptance comes clan-rights, which any warrior may ask for.” He looked at her. “Others may ask for you, Alix, because you are young and healthy and new to the clan. But I think you will take me, because—for all that has happened between us—you know me.”
“I will take Duncan,” she said firmly, knowing it as a weapon against Finn. “Duncan.”
Finn’s mouth twisted. “I also spoke with Duncan about your clan-rights, rujholla. He is clan-leader. It is his place to know what clan-rights will be asked, and who will do the asking.”
She stared at him. “I do not understand.”