by Andre Norton
—who are probably there to make sure I don't turn and bolt back to my room!
Lady Viridina seemed oblivious to her daughter's fear, she didn't even hesitate, simply followed her husband's lead, stooped and gathered her train up gracefully, and stepped across the threshold into nothingness.
Rena froze.
One of the guards cleared his throat ostentatiously. She started, and turned to look at him, knowing her eyes were probably as wide and frightened as a rabbit's.
If my lady would please to follow the Lady Viridina? he said, in a voice harsh with many years of shouting orders. His bland but implacable expression left no doubt in her mind that he had been ordered to pick her up and carry her across if she balked.
That indignity, at least, she would spare herself. She bent as her mother had, though with none of Viridina's grace, picked up the end of her train in hands that were damp with sweat, and crushed the silk to her meager chest. Then, with her eyes shut firmly, so she would not have to see what she stepped into, she crossed the threshold.
Myre took a great deal of satisfaction in delivering Rena's orders to Tanhya Leis, a particularly nasty piece of blond work that Myre had been longing to get stirred into mischief for some time now.
Mischief, after all, was a time-honored draconid tradition, and this was one tradition Myre saw no reason to abandon.
Tanhya had been banished from the harem for deliberate sabotage, and now was trying to make everyone else's life miserable, engaging in histrionics and trickery in an effort to regain the comforts of her rightful place. She wouldn't get it, of course; she was far too common for the tastes of Lord Tylar and she probably would have been disposed of soon anyway, but nothing would convince her otherwise. In fact, she was quite certain the place of Chief Concubine (now occupied by a slim and dignified brunette) was hers by right. Where she got that particular illusion, Myre had no idea—but forcing her to spend her evening cooling her heels in Lady Sheyrena's dressing room should give her plenty leisure to nurse her grievances. With any luck, she'd have come up with some plan or other to rid herself of the obstacles in her path that would be even more entertaining than her last attempt at eliminating Keri Eisa—the one that had gotten her banished in the first place.
Really, Myre chuckled to herself, as she watched Tanhya returning to the dressing chamber, her back stiff with anger, how dense can even a two-legger be? You'd think she'd have known that stupid cook's helper of hers would be caught. And that he'd talk once he was caught. I don't care how good you are in bed, that's not going to keep your paramour from telling everything he knows when his tail is in the fire? After all, it was trying to seduce one of the guards into spoiling Keri's looks and making it look like an accident that got her sent down here in the first place.
One more incident, and Tanhya would probably find herself sent to the breeding pens. No elven lord would ever take the quarrels between the women in his harem seriously enough to invoke the ultimate punishment on the perpetrators—but no elven lord would ever allow someone like Tanhya to inconvenience him, either. And right now, being without Keri would be a serious inconvenience for Lord Tylar.
This was all the more amusing to Myre because Keri's rise in the harem was due to her own interference. Keri had been simply very attractive—until Myre slipped into the harem one night, and did a little careful rearrangement of her face. From sculpting stone it was a simple matter to move to sculpting flesh, and anyone who knew how to shape-change would find it very easy to make that transition if the power was there in the first place. Next morning, Lord Tylar found himself possessed of a real beauty, and Keri's rise from nothing to Chief Concubine had upset the established order of the harem. That had put the idea in Tanhya's head that she could become Chief Concubine as easily as Ken, and the fight was on.
Strangely enough, it never occurs to the elven lords that the same powers their women use to sculpt flowers could be used to make beauties of their human slaves.
That had been very early in the game, when Myre had first insinuated herself into this particular household as only a dragon could—shape-shifted into the form of a human slave. Her only thought at the time had been to see how much she could learn, and how much trouble she could cause for the elves. She hadn't picked this House for any particular reason, other than the fact that Lord Tylar's overseers were not terribly careful about keeping track of ordinary female house-slaves.
The elder dragons would have a fit if they knew. She was not supposed to be here at all, in fact, and certainly not in the form of a human.
She was supposed to be shape-shifted among the wild alicorn herds; that was what the elder dragons of the Lair thought she was doing. They'd have had seizures if they knew where she really was.
Since the second Wizard War, the young dragons of the Kin—those that had not deserted the Lairs of the Kin to help the halfbloods—had orders that were not to be violated. Stay away from the elves. It was bad enough, so the elders thought, that the elves knew that dragons existed. It would be worse, much worse, if the elves had any idea of their shape-shifting abilities, or how easily and thoroughly their very homes could be invaded. Only the oldest and most clever of the dragons would be permitted to walk in shifted form among the elves—only those with experience in keeping themselves safe. And only for the purpose of gathering information—there would be no interference in the lives of human slaves or of elves.
Hah. As if alicorns had anything worth learning about.
Like Tanhya; pretty outside, crazy inside, and just about as much sense. And speaking of Tanhya—
She has her little circle of supporters, and one of them is our supervisor. If I don't want to end up doing some mindless chore until bedtime, I'd better get out of the way before Maryan finds out who delivered the bad news to Tanhya.
The best, and most entertaining, place to get out of the way, as Myre knew from long experience, was the roof. Not that a human slave had any business being on the roof, but she wouldn't be a human slave once she got up there.
She went up two staircases and a ladder, and out the rooftop hatch, and a moment later there was one more ornamental moonbird-rainspout up on the roof than there had been before. From this vantage, Myre had an unobstructed view of the grounds of the rear of the manor—the place where things actually happened, that is. Not the pleasure garden, but the kitchen garden, the stables, the beginning of the slave quarters. With all the masters gone; but Lorryn, the only activity would be among the slaves.
She watched the slaves scurrying about their business with avidity; after having been one, she had quite a few motions about how the Kin could use the natural abilities of humans. It would be very pleasant to have someone around to oil her skin and groom her, for instance—to heat water for a really good hot bath instead of making do with the odd hot spring—to hunt her kills for her and skin and prepare them in nice, bite-sized chunks—to keep her lair swept and clear of vermin.
The old ones are crazed, cowards, or both, she thought resentfully. Just because the elves know we exist, that doesn't mean they have a clue about what we can do! They can't detect us when we're shape-changed among them, our magic isn't an illusion that can be broken, and unless they somehow get the idea that we shift mass into the Out, they'll never know what to look for.' Her thoughts ran down old, well-worn paths of discontent and rebellion. With proper manipulation, the Kin could easily wear down both sides of this conflict, halfbloods and elves alike, until they were both so worn out with the struggle that we could take over both sides at once. Then we would be the ones to dictate terms and peace, and the humans would probably be so grateful that they would serve us better than slaves!
It was a glorious thought, ripe with a hundred possibilities, all of them currently blocked by the elders' stubborn refusal to see any other path but that of caution.
Myre was not alone in her restlessness by any means; she had her own coterie of followers among the younger dragons, who chafed at the restrictions that the elders pla
ced them under. They wanted the right to range freely in any shape they chose, and there were at least one or two who found the idea of having two-legger servants as pleasing as Myre did. All of them had decided that the elders were too conservative and needed to be replaced in their roles as leaders of Lair and Kin.
There was only one little problem with this.
The older a dragon became, the more powerful he grew. A dragon never really stopped growing, and with age came physical strength, skill in magic, and power of will. No one dragon, no group of dragons Myre's age, could ever hope to defeat an elder.
No group of dragons, maybe. If someone had looked up from the garden at that moment, he would have seen the waterspout gape its beak in something like a smile. But it doesn't have to be a dragon, does it?
The elders feared elves and wizards alike, and with good reason. Small and physically weaker than dragons, their magics were nevertheless quite formidable, even by draconic standards. One against one, and the dragon would win—but elves and halfbloods would never fight a dragon in a single combat.
I've seen what they can do, elves and halfbloods alike. If I could get a halfblood on my side, and trick it into helping me get rid of the older dragons, I could pack the Council with my friends. There's a lot of discontent among all of the Kin, not just the ones in my band. They don't see any reason why we need to redouble our efforts to keep in hiding now that we aren't a secret anymore. I don't even have to do much, just weaken the elders, cloud their minds or something, and take over quietly and easily. By the time they figure out what's happening, it will be too late to stop me.
The only dragons who would have opposed her were no longer with the Kin, anyway.
But that particular observation brought her no joy, only a sour feeling in the back of her mind. Those dragons—led by her own mother, who should have been supporting Myre instead of agonizing over the wayward behavior of Myre's brother Keman—were part and parcel of the cause of the very restrictions Myre now suffered under!
If Mother hadn't brought that damned halfblood cub home—or if someone had just had the decency to get rid of it instead of letting Keman make a pet out of it—none of this would have happened.
Now the waterspout snarled, silently.
That halfblood cub had grown up to absorb the attentions that Myre's mother, Alara, should have devoted to Myre herself, right from the very beginning! It was all just one more example of how everything that Keman did only caused Alara to spoil and cosset him more, and everything Myre did was somehow wrong. Even when the cub had finally overstepped even the generous bounds Alara's indulgence set, and attacked Myre's best friend, it wasn't killed as it should have been, it was only sent out into the wilderness to fend for itself. Then what did Keman do but follow it—
And what did Mother do? Not abandon the brat to his own devices, she followed him. Then, when he defies the entire Lair and then runs away, she keeps the rest from going after him to punish him the way he should have been in the first place!
Myre seethed at the memories of how Alara had spoiled Keman and ignored her; her stomach burned with anger and her talons clenched so hard on the stone of the roof-edge that it began to chip beneath them. Keman, always Keman!
And even when the brat came back and Myre finally put him in his place, defeating him in single combat, did Alara at last come to realize which of her two offspring was really the superior? No! Instead, she and half of the elders went kiting off after precious little Keman, and in the process of helping protect him and his pets, revealed the existence of dragons to the very creatures they had been trying to avoid for centuries!
It was enough to make a sensible dragon want to rend things.
Anger was making her lose control over her shape, and with difficulty, she calmed herself down. After all, it wasn't as if she was all alone. Lori was twice the mother Alara had been to her. Lori thought that Myre was absolutely right in everything she had said and done—and Lori was supporting Myre in her bid to become the Lair's new shaman.
Not that Mother ever gave me one iota of training. Oh no, that was all for dear Keman and his pet!
And after all, at least now that everything was turned so upside down, there were more opportunities than ever before for an ambitious dragon to gain power in the Lair. You just had to be clever about it.
And once I've got the Lair under my talons—If Keman's very lucky, I might leave him and his pets alone. For a while.
Once she had a halfblood of her very own, it would only be a matter of time before she had the Lair. Once she had the Lair and the rest of the Kin saw how successful she was, it wouldn't take long before other Lairs followed her as leader.
Then I'll have them all, elves, halfbloods… and Keman and his pets. Not even Mother or Father Dragon will be able to stop me.
She had come here in the first place simply out of a spirit of rebellion, but once she actually came to realize what the situation was in the House of Treves, this great plan all fell into place for her. That was why she stayed here, cultivating Sheyrena. She knew something that poor, pathetic little Sheyrena didn't.
Rena's brother, Lorryn, was a halfblood. He had no contact with the other wizards—in fact, until the Elvenbane showed up—
Elvenbane. Pah. Trust that little nuisance Shana to come up with a name like that for herself. Lashana wasn't good enough for her, oh no, she has to have a name like some creature out of a legend.
—he hadn't even known there were any other halfbloods in existence. He had no way of getting to the new Citadel now even if he had contact with them; he was too busy trying to keep from being caught.
But the odds against him were lengthening. Myre knew, even if he didn't, that the High Lords' Council had declared that all male elves of a certain age were to be tested with illusion-breaking spells. Paranoia ran high among them at the moment, especially after Myre had seen to it that a particular rumor started.
That was a good touch, planting the story that Shana's ally Valyn was really a halfblood. If Dyran, who supposedly hated the halfblood worse than anyone, could have had a halfblood heir, where else might halfbloods be lurking?
Lorryn knew that something was up, though; he'd severely curtailed his visits to his friends, and had stopped attending official gatherings altogether. Myre had a pretty good idea that the fete this evening was going to be one of those times and places where the young males came under magical scrutiny. If Lorryn also knew or guessed this, it was probably the reason why he had an attack of kryshein at the very last minute.
Myre was calm again, contemplating the jaws of the trap that were closing around Lorryn with satisfaction. He can't hide forever. Sooner or later, the High Lards are going to send someone to test him in person, here, and it will all be over for him. And I will be there to play savior.
She had been filling Rena's head with stories about the dragons, as well as the wizards, painting idyllic pictures of life in the Lairs and in the new Citadel. Those stories were surely getting back to Lorryn. When the jaws of the trap closed, she would be there in the very nick of time, revealing—what?
I think I'll keep the fact that I'm a dragon to myself for a while, at least until I have him safely into the wilderness— unless I need to shape-change in order to actually get him out of here. Right now, Rena has every reason to trust me. She'll probably believe me if I say I'm an agent of the wizards, when I offer to rescue Lorryn.
Lorryn would have no reason not to trust her, after all. Myre could spirit the halfblood out, get him into the desert, and then start working on him, once he was weakened by thirst and hunger. He'd be easy to manipulate.
I’ll tell him that there are dragons who are against helping the halfbloods, and that I'm trying to get them out of power. It's even true. Once I have his help, I can depose the elders. Then I'll either have figured out how to keep him under control, or I'll just get rid of him.
The sun descended slowly, setting the thin clouds on the horizon aflame, as Myre contemplated her eve
ntual triumph.
The first Portal transition left Rena shaking; the second left her partly stunned with confusion. She followed in her father's wake with her mind still spinning, too numb to really take much in. The reception chamber was about the size of her father's study; in fact, in other circumstances it might be Lord Ardeyn's study. They were ushered out immediately and into a dimly lit hallway, so she didn't get a good look at the room. She did notice an odd little tingling of magic along her skin as she passed the door, as if someone had cast a spell on her, but it didn't seem to mean anything and she dismissed it from her thoughts.
She hardly noticed her surroundings at first—the corridor her father led her through was very dark, which seemed odd, but that might just have been for effect. It was only when her foot brushed against something soft, something that hopped away, that she looked up, startled, and realized that the corridor she was walking through was formed by the trunks and interlaced branches of enormous trees, that the carpet beneath her feet was a thick, cushiony moss, and that the room they were entering was a huge glade, a sylvan paradise, a scene out of the days before the first Wizard War.
A perfect illusion of an evening sky, complete with full moon and sparkling stars, stretched overhead. Rena only knew it was an illusion because the stars were scattered randomly across the heavens, and not set in the constellations she knew from her wanderings with Lorryn. Where the walls of the ballroom would have been, there were only tall trees, straight and perfect, their boughs holding the round globes of glass in which magically created, multihued light was held captive. The springy floor boasted flat white flowers, spread out on the surface of the moss, which opened their five moon-round petals to the false moon above and gave forth an intoxicating perfume when they were trod upon.
Lord Tylar and Lady Viridina were already lost in the crowd. Rena had the presence of mind to step aside into the shelter of the trees before stopping to gawk. She had never seen illusion or created-magic on a scale like this before in her life! Truly, Lord Ardeyn had spared no expense; a spectacle like this must have taken the talents of a dozen mages the equal of Lorryn, perhaps more!