by Andre Norton
Then again, they didn't ask a female to help, did they? Of course not. Their magics are all weak, useless. As useless as keeping me from dying of pneumonia. Rena was a fount and a wellspring of surprises today.
They were certainly acting tame enough at the moment. He'd petted and scratched them at Rena's direction, and they had actually behaved as nicely as any horse he'd ever owned. Their coats were extraordinary; softer and silkier than any horse. And for once in his life, he'd gotten the chance to touch a still-living horn; it had been warm beneath his tentative caress, very much a part of the creature.
Rena shrugged. As sure as I can be of anything. I wouldn't ask them to behave like a trained horse, though. They won't take a bit or a bridle, and we'll have to go in the direction they want, but they'll take our weight on their backs easily enough. I tried with my pack, and it didn't bother either of them. She patted the mare on the shoulder; the beast didn't even move. There was a certainty in her words and her actions that hadn't been there before today.
Lorryn thought that over; Rena had blossomed in the last day into someone he hardly recognized. Not all that long ago he had wished that she would somehow grow some spine and stop being such a burden—well, perhaps this was a manifestation of the old admonition to be careful what one wished for. It had taken this to bring her into her own.
But to trust her to tame an alicorn? Was the risk worth the benefits?
Well—they're faster than we are, and they won't leave boot-prints, he said, thinking out loud. That alone, I think, is worth the risk—even if we have to go where they want to. And since I've never, ever heard of an alicorn trying to invade settled lands, at least we won't have to worry about them heading for someone else's estate. If you're sure they won't rum on us, that is—
He couldn't help it; those orange eyes seemed gentle, but could he trust that they would stay that way? That horn was as long as his arm, and sharp as any spear, and he'd heard even the foals knew how to use their horns as weapons almost from birth. Add in the fangs and the foreclaws…
I'm sure, she said firmly. I tamed a shrike once, and it was more vicious and had less mind than these do. I can do it, Lorryn; it's one thing I am completely sure of.
She had certainly done wonders with her garden full of birds. Good enough. He walked over to the stallion, the bigger of the two, and cautiously laid a hand on its shoulder. It didn't even look up from the pile of grass that Rena had pulled and changed for it to eat. He hefted his pack in his free hand; would it really bear the weight of him and the pack as well?
Put your pack on him first, she said, just over the shoulders. Then get on slowly. Just don't make any moves that might startle him.
That wasn't going to be easy, not without a saddle. Still. He followed her instructions, as she draped her own pack over the mare's shoulders; her pack, like his, was now arranged so that it was a tube with her gear in equal parts at each end and a flat place in the middle. That had been his idea, to make it as much like saddlebags as possible. Staying on bareback would be hard enough; they'd never be able to stay on with packs strapped to their backs.
The stallion looked up, craned his long neck around so that he could peer at the pack, then resumed eating.
Lorryn put both hands on the stallion's warm back, just be hind the pack. This would be something like one of the exercises he'd trained in, just slower. He only hoped his arms were up to it; it was going to be a real strain on his muscles.
He hoisted himself up with his arms alone, moving slowly and leaning his weight onto the alicorn's back, and slid his leg up over the alicorn's rump at the same time. He had a bad moment when the stallion jumped slightly, and fidgeted as it felt his weight. But then the beast settled again, and he got his seat, thankful he'd learned to ride bareback.
Rena was already in place, looking uncommonly cheerful, considering their current condition. She also looked far more alive than he'd ever seen her; there was a faint rosy flush on her cheeks, her green eyes sparkled, and even her hacked-off hair looked better fluffed in untidy curls around her face than it had when it was beaded and braided and beribboned. It was too bad all those so-called friends of his couldn't see her now; they'd never call her plain again. She was definitely in her element. Freedom suited her.
We'll have to wait until they finish eating, she told him. Then they'll go wherever it was they were heading in the first place when we caught them. She tilted her head to one side. Are you wearing an illusion? she added, changing the subject so completely, she took him by surprise.
With a start, he realized that he was; it had become second nature. He nodded. I can't remember a moment that I've had it off, he told her. Except very rare times when Mother and I were checking to see that it was solid. I even have it up, sleeping.
Can I see what you look like without it?
He considered her request, and shrugged. I don't see why not. It took an effort of will to cancel the illusion on himself, and he saw from her face that she was disappointed in the result
He grinned at her reaction, in part because he had expected it. Sorry, little sister. No fangs, no bulging muscles, no horns. The best and easiest illusions are always simply enhancements or slight changes in what was already there, you know.
She tilted her head to the other side, birdlike, and considered him from all angles before she answered him. Your hair is yellower than any boy's I've ever seen, except the humans, she said at last. Your ears are blunter and smaller. And you're just a bit more muscular. But you're still Lorryn. I'd still know you anywhere.
He bowed, mockingly. Exactly so, and precisely the point I suspect Mother may have worked some of those weak little magics on me as a baby to make the illusion easier to carry—lightening my hair, for instance, and seeing to it I didn't turn into a muscle-bound gladiator. But—
At just that moment, the stallion finished the last scrap of grass, and without any warning, went from a standstill to a fast walk, heading south, the mare behind him. He lurched onto a deer path with a half-rum, as Lorryn fought for balance.
Lorryn clung to the slick back, wishing the alicorn would at least tolerate some kind of bellyband to give him something to hold on to! Especially if it was going to move off without warning like that!
They're going the way we wanted to! Rena exclaimed behind him, pleased.
At least she had a little warning!
They're also going a lot faster than I thought they would! he exclaimed, as the stallion moved from a fast walk into an even faster pace—it wasn't a trot, but it was just as fast as a trot Fortunately, whatever this gait was, the alicorn moved more smoothly than any horse he'd ever ridden, and from the way it had its ears perked forward, its head up, and its tail flagged, it could probably carry on like this all day. If so—nothing short of magic would have served as well to get them out of danger. Magic—or maybe a dragon.
This is amazing, he said after a while, full of awe. No wonder the alicorns were so hard to track and hunt! No one had ever described them moving like this! Why, they would be long out of reach before a hound picked up their scent, even though the trail itself seemed fresh! I've never ridden a beast like this in my life!
They are lovely, aren't they? Rena agreed. Her voice sounded wistful. I wish we could stay with them—but I don't think the changes I made run deep enough to hold if they ever begin to hunt. Once they taste blood—I have the feeling nothing would keep them tame. There's a feeling about that under the surface of them. Their instincts are very powerful, and instincts are the hardest things to change.
Well, we'll have to make certain they don't get any blood, he said firmly. But that observation set his own thoughts running; no matter how grave a situation, there was always a stray part of his mind that would analyze everything. His ancestors had bred the alicorns as war-beasts; it might be that if that part of their nature could be expunged, and the taste of flesh eliminated, they'd revert to a gentler nature.
Well, gentle enough that girls like Rena could tame them,
anyway.
It would certainly be a fine thing to have a mount like this, with its great beauty and easy pace—
And total lack of any way to control it! he reminded himself, as the stallion made an abrupt leap over an obstacle across the path, jarring him and making him lose his balance and fight to regain it. No, maybe not.
He realized a bit later, as he ducked a little to avoid a low-hanging branch, that the only reason the alicorns didn't absentmindedly scrape them off was purely because of the way they were built. Their necks were so long that their heads were very nearly even with the rider's—and the horn more than made up for the difference. Anything Lorryn would have had to duck under, the stallion did, too, giving him a moment of warning so that he didn't brain himself on a branch. If they ever got tired of carrying a rider, they would have no problem getting rid of that rider. Perhaps Rena's bribery was the only thing keeping them tame.
Ah. Another good reason to put off domestication.
They had set off in midafternoon. By the time night fell, between the mad boat ride and the alicorn trek, they would have gotten far beyond where even the wildest estimation of their abilities would have placed them. And they were going south, into the lands no elven lord had ever set foot on. The lands where the dragons and the wizards had supposedly gone. That came from more reliable sources than Myre; it was part of the treaty between the elves and the wizards.
And in the space of a few hours, thanks to Rena, he was a great deal more optimistic about their chances than he had been this morning. He no longer needed to worry where they would find food; Rena had already proven she could change the leaves of the trees into treats for the alicorns; presumably she could make them as nourishing for the riders as well. A little bland, not at all fete fare, but I don't think I'm going to complain to the cook. He could still hunt—though on the whole it would probably be better to wait until the alicorns went on their own way before doing so. He could sense the minds of even animals, which meant he should be able to sense dangerous beasts or pursuit before it got too close.
Even if they didn't find the wizards immediately, they were not doing badly!
For now, he reminded himself, before he got caught up in unreasoning optimism. It's barely summer. When winter arrives, we'd better have found the wizards. We haven't got real shelter, and it's going to be hard to magic that up out of the wilderness without someone noticing and coming after us. I'm not certain Rena can make dead grass or pine needles into anything edible, and we don't have warm clothing except for our cloaks.
He noted something with half of his mind, while the rest worried over the problems to come. The alicorns had the same effect on forest life that a human or elven hunter would; where they passed, silence fell. Evidently they were just as fierce a predator as their reputation made them out to be. Off in the far, far distance, he heard birdsong, and the occasional animal call, but right here, along this deer path, there was nothing but the dull thudding of hooves on the bare earth and damp leaves.
We really did it, didn't we? Rena said, wonderingly, into the silence. The stallion flicked its ears at the sound of her voice, but did not slacken pace. Wherever it was going, it wanted to get there in a hurry. He only hoped that his muscles and Rena's would be up to a pace like this.
We really did, he called back, softly. We got away, both of us, and I couldn't have done it without you. I'm glad you came.
He hadn't been, at the time. He hadn't been until the moment she dried his clothing for him. Cynically he admitted to himself that once she became a benefit to his comfort, his attitude had changed.
But how was he to know that she would be anything other than a burden and something to be protected every step of the way?
She giggled. It was almost me bursting into your room to beg for help last night, you know, she said unexpectedly.
He turned his head just enough so that he could look back at her while keeping an eye out for those pesky branches. Why? he asked. I—I knew there was something besides the fete that had everyone in a state, but I didn't know it had anything to do with you!
They didn't tell you? she said, astonishment writ large in her wide eyes. How could they not tell you? Father was even letting me sleep late!
He grimaced. Lord Tylar has never confided anything to me, and he has always forbidden the servants to tell me anything he thinks I might object to. I assume I would have objected to this?
I don't know, she said hesitantly. I—I was betrothed to Lord Gildor last night.
He almost lost his seat over that. Gildor? he spluttered. Gildor, the brainless wonder? Gildor, who couldn't find his—his behind with both hands and a map? Gildor the dullard, the dolt, the incredibly, impossibly boring? Was there another Gildor he didn't know about?
That certainly describes the Gildor I saw, she agreed, and her eyes twinkled. Now you see why I was so insistent on coming with you, and why I told you Father would use coercion on me to find out where you'd gone! I'd rather face wild alicorns than go into Gildor's bower!
He shook his head. I'm not certain this is preferable to marriage to Gildor, he retorted, wondering if his anger at her deception was valid, even as the heat rose in him. After all, he wasn't the one being told to wed Gildor.
Please don't be angry with me, she pled, wilting before the accusation in his eyes. It wasn't a lie; if he thought I did know, he would have used coercion on me—but—
But it's possible, given his high opinion of females, that it wouldn't even have entered his mind that you would be capable of such a clever deception. He thought it over, weighed Lord Tylar's well-known fear in the face of halfbloods with his well-known contempt of women, and concluded she was right not to take the chance. Ah, you were probably right to assume he would, anyway, he replied, and her face lightened. He's not exactly rational about halfbloods. He'll probably be using coercion on every person on the estate. Thank the Ancestors that Mother is strong enough to resist him, and clever enough to have something to give him that will clear her of guilt. He won't dare offend her House by doing away with her as long as she can make it seem she went mad on being told I was halfblooded.
Rena's face went deathly pale. What's going to happen to her? she whispered, as if Lady Viridina's part in all of this had never occurred to her.
Lorryn wished he could be more reassuring, but that was difficult on the back of a moving alicorn. He tried to give her a smile that would convey the emotion. It's all right, we've planned for this for some time. She is going to concoct a false and very clouded memory for Fa—Lord Tylar's benefit, of the midwife-slave substituting me for a stillborn child. You know, don't you, that he left her alone on the estate for the birth? She'll let him hear that under a coercive trance, let him hear the midwife supposedly using her wizard-powers to make her forget; then she'll 'go mad with grief as soon as he wakes her and confronts her with it. It was a thin enough story, but Lady Viridina had never, ever been suspected of so much as an improper thought by her husband, and with the three Council members there, he would be forced to take it at face value. The Council Lords will insist she be placed in protective isolation, of course, but that won't be so bad.
It would be better than death, anyway. And perhaps it would be better than being subject to her husband's every irrational whim and cruel trick.
But Rena shuddered. That means being confined to her bower, with slaves watching her day and night, she replied. I would go mad. But I suppose it's better than—
Better than the alternative. The Council will believe it, he told her, this time quite firm in his conviction. Ever since the Elvenbane appeared, they've been seeing halfbloods under their beds, and behind anything that goes wrong. I'm sure they'll find a way to 'prove' that this switched-at-birth nonsense is how Dyran ended up with a halfblood as his own heir without ever being aware of the fact.
Oh, Rena said, looking a bit less dubious. I'd forgotten about that. Actually, they'll probably want to believe it, and when they get done with him, so will Father.
Very likely, he agreed. And Mother is clever enough to carry it all off. He sniffed. It's just a good thing they don’t have the wizard-powers to read thoughts.
I hope they never get themselves some kind of tame halfblood then, Rena replied, soberly. And oh, I hope Mother will be all right—
At least you won't have to marry Gildor-the-idiot! he said quickly, and got a wan smile in answer.
Yes— She got spattered by a shower of drops from a branch above her, wiped them away, and got back a little more color and a real smile. And before you ask, believe me, life eating leaves in a howling wilderness is much, much preferable to that!
Chapter 6
KALAMADEA AND KEMAN simply stood where they were, like a pair of perfectly ordinary halfbloods, and not a pair of extraordinary, shape-shifting dragons. What was wrong with them?
:Do something!: Shana thought furiously at Kalamadea. :Shift! Fight them!: He should already have been flinging himself into the sky!
Kalamadea did nothing except to look at her. :Lashana, these people are not afraid of magic, and they are all carrying very sharp spears. Spears which, may I point out to you, will penetrate dragon-hide. I think shifting would be a very bad idea, just at the moment; they could certainly use those spears. Can you think of anything else constructive?:
Try as she might, she couldn't. Even a dragon needed a storm to call lightning down out of the sky, and the weather wasn't obliging with one. Perhaps the dragons could use their powers with rock to rum the ground soft beneath their captors' feet, but an agile warrior could certainly leap free before he was trapped.
And as for flinging himself into the sky—well, even a dragon needed time to shift. These warriors would certainly react before then.
It looked as if giving up was their only option. At least the warriors had not retaliated for the magical attacks the two wizards had made.