C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - O N E
BACK IN
AEDIION
After Lucius left, Han asked Willo’s healer apprentices to keep any other visitors away. He warned them that he and Dancer would be using dangerous, unstable magic, and laid magical barriers around the perimeter to prevent their being interrupted. Then he and Dancer sat down on adjacent sleeping benches in the corner of the room.
“You sure you want to do this?” Dancer said. “Lucius seemed to think that Alger Waterlow is capable of almost anything. He seems frightened of him, almost.”
“In a way, it supports his story,” Han said. “If we can believe Lucius, Alger was powerful enough to conceal himself in an amulet for a thousand years.”
“Why would anyone want to do that?” Dancer said.
“Maybe if you were desperate for revenge,” Han said. “Or willing to do whatever it takes to win.” Like me, he added to himself.
They sat in silence for a moment, each alone with his own thoughts.
“Have you tried returning to Aediion?” Han asked. “Since that day in Gryphon’s class?”
“No, I haven’t,” Dancer said, staring up at the ceiling. “I never saw much use in it, and after what happened to you the first time, I wasn’t eager to try it again.”
“We should go,” Han said, after another long pause. “I can bring you along, or you can come on your own power.”
“I’ll come on my own,” Dancer said. “That way I can leave on my own. Are you wearing your rowan talisman?” Dancer reached up and touched his own. He’d made one for himself after Han’s had prevented Crow from possessing him.
Han nodded, opening his collar so Dancer could see. “Wait a few minutes before you follow me. I’ll give Crow a bit of warning that you’re coming.” Han didn’t know if that was a good or a bad idea, but it seemed only fair. “I don’t think it really matters where we meet, as far as Crow is concerned. He’s just always there, waiting. But let’s you and me meet in Mystwerk Tower.”
What if Crow doesn’t show? Han thought. I’ll look like a fool.
That was the least of his worries.
He lay back, closing his eyes, and spoke the familiar words that would let him pass through the portal. And opened his eyes to Mystwerk Tower.
Midnight. Moonlight shafted down from the windows, kindling the dust motes in the air.
Crow sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Han, dressed all in black, eyes closed, head bowed, his flax hair the only brilliant thing about him. If Han didn’t know better, he’d have guessed he was either despondent or praying.
Han reorganized his clothes, ridding himself of the clan garb he’d been wearing and arraying himself in elegant flare, down to the glittering rings on his fingers. It had become his way of honoring Crow, of meeting him on his own turf.
Crow opened his eyes and blinked up at him. “Alister!” He scrambled to his feet, brushing at his somber clothing. Then glittered up a bit, sprouting rings and sequins and jewels, as if to present a more cheerful appearance. “You’re alive!” He looked eagerly into Han’s face, examining it for damage. “Are you…are you well? How are you feeling?”
Han shrugged, surprised at Crow’s concern. “I’ll live.”
“It’s true, then, that the Maker looks after fools,” Crow said, sounding more like his usual self. “You nearly killed yourself healing that girl. You stripped your amulet and yourself. I thought you were dead. Why did you do it?”
Han didn’t know how to answer that question, in the past or present tense. “She was important to me. I had to try to save her.”
“Did she live?” Crow asked. “Was all that sacrifice worth it?”
“She’s alive,” Han said. “I haven’t decided whether it was worth it or not.”
Crow laughed, and it was unexpectedly charming. “You’re learning, Alister. I told you not to go to war over a woman. Though you must be a foolhardy sort if you came back here.”
“I’m still not convinced you’re telling the truth,” Han said. “I’ve asked someone to join us here. Someone I trust.”
Crow’s smile faded, replaced by irritation. “No. Absolutely not. Our bargain was you come alone. No one else is supposed to know I even exist.”
“Our bargain was you’d help me against the Bayars. Not treat me like a sweet mark. You’ve got no business squeaking about the rules now.”
Crow began pacing back and forth. “I’m trying to protect you. The Bayars have been trying to pry me free of that amulet for a thousand years. If they find out that you can communicate with me, what do you think will happen to you? Do you look forward to hours of torture in the dungeon at Aerie House? I’ve been there, and, believe me, I have no desire to go back.”
“When you meet my friend, you’ll realize there’s not much chance he’ll cackle to the Bayars,” Han said. “Or that they’d listen if he did. It’s too late anyway, I—” As if he’d called Dancer by speaking of him, the air between them thickened and rippled, and Dancer appeared, clad in fine ceremonial clan garb.
Crow took two steps back, eyes wide, raising his arms in defense. Instinctively, Han stepped between Dancer and Crow. Dancer looked momentarily disoriented, then fixed his gaze on Crow.
“You’re smaller than I expected,” Dancer said, cocking his head. “And no flaming eyes.”
Crow grew fractionally larger and more brilliant, like a peacock displaying his plumage, or a streetlord making show. “A copperhead? You brought a copperhead here to meet me?” Crow lowered his arms slowly, staring at Dancer like he was a demon himself. “No,” he whispered, his brow furrowed. “That’s not right. You’re a wizard disguised as a copperhead.”
Dancer fingered his talisman. “Of course I’m a wizard, or I wouldn’t be here. I’m also clan.”
“Hayden Fire Dancer, meet Alger Waterlow,” Han said, rather formally.
Crow seemed as edgy as a cat in Ragmarket. “There’s something about you,” he whispered, his eyes riveted on Dancer. “Something…hidden. Something dangerous. Something you don’t want anybody to see. Have we met before?”
Dancer shook his head. “This is only my second time in Aediion.”
“We have some questions to ask you, all right?” Han said, beginning to lose patience.
“Questions?” Crow’s gaze flickered to Han. “What questions?”
“You say you are Alger Waterlow, the last of the gifted kings. If so, then tell me where you used to meet Hanalea in secret, before you ran off together.”
“That’s no one’s business but my own,” Crow said, pressing his lips together as if he never meant to open them again.
“It’s our business if we’re going to partner up,” Han said.
“Send the copperhead away,” Crow said. “I’ve no desire to partner with him. Then we’ll talk.”
Han shook his head. “I want him here as witness. Otherwise, we’re both out of here.” It was street bravado. He couldn’t let Crow know how desperate he was for his help.
Crow scowled and gave in. “Very well. Hanalea and I used to meet in the glass house at Fellsmarch Castle,” he said. “There was a passage through the walls from her chambers.”
“Glasshouse?” Han said uncertainly. Lucius had said the conservatory.
“The conservatory,” Crow said, waving his hand. “It’s like a glass garden.”
Han struggled to keep his street face while his stomach lurched. Was it possible Crow was telling the truth?
“All right, then,” Han said. “Sounds plausible. What did you give Hanalea as a handfast gift?”
Crow’s eyes narrowed. “Who told you that?” he demanded. “Where is this coming from?”
Han hesitated a moment. “Do you remember Lucius Frowsley?”
Crow seemed lost. “Frowsley?” He shook his head. “I don’t really…” He looked up. “Do you mean Lucas?” he said. “Lucas Fraser? He was in school with me at Mystwerk. He was my best friend. But that was a thousand years ago.”
“Lucas,” Crow whispered, more to himself than to Han. “Is it possible? I’d nearly forgotten about…that. He was so eager to live forever, but I had no idea if—”
“Just answer the question, will you?” Han said.
Crow’s brilliant eyes fixed on Han. “I gave Hanalea a ring—moonstones and pearls and sapphires. And she gave me a gold ring, engraved with her name on the inside, so I’d always have her against my skin.” He laughed bitterly. “The Bayars took it from me, along with everything else.”
“It’s really true, then,” Dancer said, his hand closing reflexively around his amulet. “You are the Demon King.”
Crow turned toward Dancer. Then stumbled back a step as recognition flooded into his face and fired in his eyes.
“Speaking of demons,” Crow said, his voice low and dangerous. “I believe you have a demon’s face.” Springing forward, he smashed into Dancer as he had done when he’d taken possession of Micah in Aediion. But again he bounced back, driven off by the rowan talisman.
“You’re a filthy Bayar!” Crow cried, rolling to his feet, his image rippling and fraying like a flag in the wind. “Did you think I wouldn’t know you after all these years? Do you think I wouldn’t recognize that Aerie House stench?” His voice trembled, his face twisting in revulsion.
Dancer just stood there as if frozen, saying nothing.
“I told you how important it was to keep my existence a secret, especially from the Bayars,” Crow said to Han, his voice low and furious. “Now you’ve gambled away what little chance you had in the first place.”
“You’re mistaken,” Han said, since Dancer still said nothing. “Use your eyes. Dancer’s no Bayar. He’s clan, raised at Marisa Pines. I’ve known him since we were lytlings.”
“Kill him,” Crow said through clenched teeth. “Kill him now or we’ll all suffer the consequences.”
“Why is it you’re always trying to goad me into killing somebody?” Han demanded.
“You’re a fool, Alister,” Crow said. “And I was a fool to trust you.” He sizzled out like a dying spark.
Han and Dancer both stared at the spot he’d vacated.
“I’m sorry, Hunts Alone,” Dancer said, with a heavy sigh. “I hope I haven’t ruined it for you. I know you were counting on his help.”
“What got into him?” Han said. “Maybe you were right—a thousand years trapped in an amulet has made him crazy.”
Dancer shook his head. “Or maybe he’s good at spotting a Bayar, that’s all,” he said quietly. As Han watched, Dancer’s clothes changed from clan leggings and shirt to wizard robes, the stoles emblazoned with the Stooping Falcon. His hair, however, was still braided and tied in clan fashion.
“My mother is clan, Hunts Alone,” Dancer said. “Have you ever wondered who my father was?”
“Well, I heard the story, what Willo said at your naming,” Han said, his voice trailing away.
“It was true, most of it,” Dancer said. “Except the part where she claimed she didn’t know who it was. Can you think of a wizard ruthless enough to come into the Spirits and attack a young woman in the forest like that?”
Han studied Dancer’s features—the jarring blue eyes set into his bronzed face, the angular bone structure, the heavy dark brows. As understanding dawned, Han’s throat constricted painfully, as if there were a large rock he was trying to swallow.
“The resemblance is rather striking once you know to look for it,” Dancer said matter-of-factly.
“Hanalea’s blood and bones,” Han whispered, shaking his head. “Your father is Gavan Bayar.” No wonder Dancer had viewed his gift as a curse.
“You don’t know how tempting it’s been to present myself to Micah and Fiona as their long-lost older brother,” Dancer said. “Almost worth getting myself killed. For a time, that seemed like an easy way out. I’d step forward as a Bayar, and they would murder me.”
Memories came back to Han—Dancer’s furious reaction when they’d met Micah and his cousins on Hanalea. It had seemed so out of character at the time. Dancer’s knowledge of wizards and their ways—uncommon among the Spirit clans. Micah’s reaction to Dancer, each time they met…
“Do the Bayars know?” Han said.
Dancer shook his head, half smiling. “I think Micah sees his father in me. It’s like he knows on some instinctive level, but he just can’t bring himself to believe it. I’ve never met Lord Bayar. If he knew, I’d be dead already.”
“What about the Demonai? Averill? Elena Cennestre? Do they know?”
Dancer shook his head. “If they knew, they’d have drowned me at birth. Willo and I are the only ones that knew. Now you. And Crow, unfortunately.”
Han recalled when Willo had brought Dancer to the city, to Speaker Jemson, hoping to cure him of his cursed gift. She’d kept the secret for a lifetime, trying to find a place for the son she loved in a world at war with itself.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Han asked, his mind reeling.
“You’re one to talk,” Dancer arrowed back. “How many secrets have you kept from me?”
“I’m not criticizing you,” Han said. “I’m just asking why.”
“I didn’t know myself, until I began to manifest,” Dancer said. “After, I almost told you, several times. But I knew how you felt about the Bayars after what happened to your family. I didn’t know how you would react. And now there’s Cat. She hates the Bayars—they murdered all of her friends. And my mother—Willo—she made me swear never to tell.” Dancer spoke matter-of-factly, looking directly into Han’s eyes. “For a long time I didn’t want anyone to know. But now—I’m glad you found out. I’m tired of acting like it’s our fault. Like I’m ashamed of who I am. I can’t control what other people do. But I can decide how I’m going to handle it.”
Anger sparked in Han. Why should Dancer and Willo bear that burden—keeping their secret, always worrying it would come out, worrying what the Bayars would do if they knew.
“Does Willo have proof?” Han asked. “That it was Bayar, I mean.”
“She still has the Bayar’s ring,” Dancer said. “When she found out she was with child, she hid the ring away and claimed she didn’t know who the father was.”
When Han opened his mouth to speak, Dancer raised a hand to stop him. “She was trying to protect me—from the Bayars and the Demonai. But once it was clear I was gifted, it became too big a secret to keep. I knew it would come out sooner or later.”
“She should have named him,” Han growled, “and brought him to justice.”
“We may think so,” Dancer said, nodding, “but she has a bone-deep fear of Bayar that she cannot shake. Being attacked so close to home destroyed her confidence. She has never felt completely safe since.” He paused. “Bayar is going to pay for that.”
Han put his hand on Dancer’s shoulder, squeezing it. “You’re my best friend,” he said. “I don’t care who your father was.”
Dancer shrugged. “I hope Cat feels the same way. I’m going to tell her. I don’t want to keep secrets from her, either. Not anymore.” He fingered his amulet. “Let’s not say anything to Willo—not until after the queen’s funeral, anyway. She’s worried enough as it is that I’m going. She doesn’t want me anywhere near Bayar.”
“That’s up to you,” Han said, still trying to get his head around this news. “It’s your secret. But I think you should talk to her soon.”
C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - T W O
MAKING A
POINT
You have to trust Han Alister, Raisa told herself over and over. Even though he hates you now. You don’t have a choice.
Well, in fact, she did have a choice. Lots of choices. She could go with the well-insulated sneak-in-and-out plan her father favored. Or the abduction plan Reid Nightwalker was pushing.
But she wanted
to honor Han by trusting him, since she hadn’t trusted him before. She only hoped she was making the right decision.
It didn’t help that Nightwalker had made it abundantly plain that he didn’t trust Han Alister, or his plan. Han had sketched it out the day before, in a brief businesslike meeting. Just the three of them, like he’d said. And Raisa had approved of it.
Then they had shared it with the others. Who didn’t approve.
Nightwalker could be relentless. And persuasive. The sun wasn’t even up, but he’d been distracting her for the last hour while she tried to get ready to travel to the memorial.
The topic was Han Alister and his plan.
“He’s a jinxflinger,” Nightwalker said. “How can you trust him to side with you against the Wizard Council?”
“Isn’t that the idea?” Raisa said, rubbing her eyes. “Wasn’t that why Elena Cennestre recruited him? He’s supposed to be the secret weapon.”
“I didn’t say we shouldn’t use him. I’m saying we shouldn’t trust him with your life.” Nightwalker leaned against the lodgepole in the Matriarch Lodge, lithe and deadly as a fellscat. He’d dressed for battle, in the sunlight-and-shadow coat and leggings, his Demonai amulet glittering at his neck.
He didn’t look droopy-eyed at all, though no doubt he’d been up half the night reinforcing his rights to the clan name, Nightwalker. Raisa had seen him and Night Bird kissing good-bye outside the visitors’ lodge at dawn when Raisa went out to the privy. So they were still together, apparently.
She forced her attention back to the present.
“Han hates the High Wizard,” Raisa said. “I can’t imagine him throwing in with them.”
“That’s what he’s told you. But he has more in common with them than he does with any of us.”
Raisa sat back on her heels, resting her hands on her thighs. “You’re doing it again,” she said. “Treating me like I’m stupid. I spent time with Alister at Oden’s Ford. I know him better than you do. I know what I’m doing.”
Nightwalker raised both hands. “Forgive me, Your Highness.” He stopped and cleared his throat self-consciously. “It seems that I am always apologizing to you. I think I spend too much time with people who agree with me.” He took a breath. “Despite my lack of diplomacy, it is not my intention to question your judgment. It is just that I’m concerned about your safety.”
The Seven Realms- The Complete Series Page 114