Elveblood hc-2

by Andre Norton

  She had? That surprised him more than almost anything else today!

  It's not a power to use lightly was all Shana said, but she said it so soberly that he knew, deep within his heart, that the burden of all of the dead of the second Wizard War lay heavily on her soul, and always would. But sometimes— Her eyes looked far away, into some bleak place where he could not go. Sometimes, you aren't given a choice. If, by using a power like that, you could save an innocent life—

  Then she shook herself, and returned to the present. Any way, the last thing I'm going to ask you to do is use something like that on—say—Jamal. He hasn't actually hurt anyone yet. He might not. He might be so frightened and alarmed by discovering we're going that he might turn his people right back around and go home. He might get a late-night visitation from his god telling him mat he's been a naughty boy. Anything could happen.

  Rena nodded, but her relief at Shana's words was written clearly in her expression.

  Mero reached out and patted her hand, comfortingly. She smiled shyly at him, calling up a reassuring smile in return. He did not remove his hand from hers.

  Oh, really? Was Lorryn's startled thought. And for just an instant, all the instincts of the protective brother rose up in him—

  But they subsided just as quickly. Why not, after all? When had she ever met any fullblood who'd treated her with a fraction of the courtesy that Mero had, even in the few moments since they'd met? He could simply be offering kindness to her—

  Oh yes. And my Ancestors on both sides will rise up out of their graves and declare peace between the races.

  —and what if something more did develop between them? Was it any of his business? The little he knew of Mero personally, he liked. Certainly no one could live around Shana for long and continue to harbor the usual elven prejudices about females.

  But what was Shana going to do about this? Had she even noticed?

  A quick glance in her direction told him that she had noticed. Her eyes were on the linked hands—and she was smiling, ever so slightly.

  Well, well, well. If Shana didn't mind, if she approved, who was he to interfere?

  And nothing at all may come of this anyway, he reminded himself, and turned his mind and attention back to the topic at hand. After all, nothing could come of this until they were all free and away from this place.

  * * *

  Myre was altogether pleased with the way things were going. At the Citadel, old Caellach Gwain was slowly undermining the authority of those that Shana had left in charge—and with every day that passed that did not bring Shana's return, even those loyal to her lost some of their confidence. Careful never to go where one of the dragons might spot her, she moved among them in the guise of a former human slave, dropping little hints, fragments of doubt. Perhaps Shana had deserted them. Perhaps she had been captured by the elven lords. Perhaps she had fallen victim to some horrid monster of the wilderness, something no one had ever encountered before.

  With care and guile she spread the insidious doubts—that, no matter what the cause, Shana, the Elvenbane, was never coming back.

  Caellach Gwain, bless his twisted old heart, was quick to pick up on the rumors and spread them further. Denelor and the Senior Wizard were hard put to keep their hold over the others at this point. Let them come up against the first real danger or hardship, and the unity of the wizards would shatter like shale.

  And as for Jamal…

  She waited for him in her dead-end canyon. He had not yet been ready to ally with her at their last meeting, but she sensed he was close. He was probably waiting to find out just what it was that she wanted, like any properly cautious creature.

  The soft thud of hooves warned her he had arrived, and she settled herself for a nice, productive talk. She had decided, if he asked her what her reward would be for her aid, that she would tell him the truth. It was a truth that he would certainly understand.

  The war-bull, with Jamal leading it afoot, plodded around a bend toward her. He stopped at a prudent distance from her.

  I am here, he said simply.

  As am I, she replied, with a nod of her head. So. I have offered alliance, War Chief. You said that you wished to think on it. Have you thought?

  I have. His heavy brows drew together. You have not said what it is that you will gain from this alliance. It is said, 'an ally who asks for nothing expects everything.' That is not a bargain I am prepared to make.

  Myre hissed laughter. And a wise man you are. But you, War Chief, will surely understand what it is that I want—for although to some it may seem insignificant, it is a reward beyond price for me.

  He waited, silent, for her to name that reward.

  Revenge, she breathed, and saw his entire face light up with understanding and appreciation. You have as captives my enemy and my brother. That is my reward; a free hand with each.

  Done, he said instantly, and grounded the butt of his spear in the earth. I swear it by the red earth and the black, by the Forge and the Fire. Now—how are we to make use of this alliance?

  He cocked his head to one side, quizzically.

  You know, for I have shown you, that I can take any form I please, she replied. So—first, I shall go among your people in a form that none would suspect, and I will listen and learn who is your friend, who is your foe, and who is undecided. Then, when the time is right, you declare for yourself the full power of the Clan leadership, with a dragon to ride as proof of your mastery! You select a few who most oppose you and— She delicately examined her talons. I think I need say no more.

  He nodded, pleased. I doubt that many will continue hi opposition once the first lessons have been dispensed, he said with a bloodthirsty chuckle that would have sounded well in the throat of a dragon. And after, if you continue to walk in that form-with-no-suspicion, we will continue to learn who opposes in silence. Hmm?

  Precisely. Now it was her turn to cock her head to the side, quizzically. I assume you do have a form in mind?

  Oh, yes! Now he laughed. And that is the cream of the jest! So let me tell you___

  If Shana had allowed herself any time to think of anything but their immediate problem, she knew she would have been baffled, bewildered, and entirely turned round about by now. She had thought that she was and would always be in love with Valyn, poor Valyn, who had sacrificed himself to save all of them from his father.

  Her friendship with Mero had never turned to anything more than that, after all. Nor did her friendship with Zed or with any of the other wizards her own age. She had told herself that love only came once—and that it was her job to take the life that Valyn had given to her and make the best she could of it. After a year, she was even able to enjoy herself again. She had thought that would never be so heart-touched again.

  Now—now she was not only no longer so sure of that, she was no longer so sure that she had ever been in love with Valyn at all! Infatuated, of course. Emotionally at a boiling point, certainly. But in love? Perhaps not.

  Her first reaction when she saw Lorryn without any illusion cloaking his features was to compare him to Valyn, and in that comparison he came out a poor second. In a way it was inevitable that she should do so, since his elven blood was so clearly in his features, as opposed to Mero, who looked far more human.

  Or even me, she reminded herself. Her hair had grown out enough that combing it out was a necessity and a chore, but the time needed to untangle it gave her time to think about something other than problems. And that flaming red hair coiling itself around her fingers was a stark reminder that there was very little of the elven maiden in her, either.

  Lorryn, on the other hand—well, compared to Valyn, he was a copy of a masterpiece by an inexperienced student. His human blood coarsened and thickened his features just enough that it was very noticeable. So her first impression based on looks alone was not a favorable one.

  Ah, but then he opened his mouth.

  That was when she realized that appearance was the smallest part of L
orryn, and that he could have been as coarse as a mud-doll, and she would have paid attention to him.

  He listens to me, which is more than Valyn ever did most of the time. He gives my ideas the same weight as his own. And his own are nothing to be ashamed of.

  She took a bit of leather cord and began braiding her hair, working carefully to keep from making more knots than she'd taken out.

  He was sensible, too; just because he really liked an idea, that didn't mean he wasn't prepared to give it up if someone came up with a reason why it wouldn't work.

  He was willing to learn from all of them: from Shana, who was female; from Mero, who was younger than he; from his own sister, whom by all logic he should have held in the gentle contempt that all elven males held for their women.

  Not mat they hadn't had their share of fights—

  Well, more like squabbles. Mostly because we were all tense. But he had been just as willing to patch things up and apologize as she had been, once their tempers had cooled, and after the events of the past two years, she had learned to apologize to just about anybody if it had to be done. Hadn't she learned to be polite to the old whiners? She hadn't expected the same out of him, however.

  And now—now she was going out of her way to spend time with him she could have been spending alone. She was fussing with her clothing and hair, things she hadn't cared about in a year or more. She had confided things to him that she hadn't told anyone else—not facts, but feelings, the way she hated being the Elvenbane, the horrible weight it put on her when people expected miracles of her, and the worse weight of rancor when they didn't. She had confessed how the burden of responsibility often felt as if it was going to crush her spirit—and precisely how poor a leader she really was, when it came down to cases.

  She thought he understood. At least he listened. He didn't trivialize what she was feeling.

  She shook her head a little, and tied off the end of her braid. She'd made a kind of appointment with him tonight, him and him alone, because there was something else going on with their little group of conspirators that could cause some difficulties if he disapproved. She didn't know if he'd noticed, but it seemed to her that she'd better talk to him about this business of Mero and his sister just in case he hadn't.

  Although how he could not notice, when the two of them were taking long walks in the moonlight before bed at precisely the same time, she had no idea. Then again, males were sometimes a bit more oblivious to that than females were, or so she'd heard.

  She slipped out of the tent, the empty tent. Mero had already gone off on his quest for exercise ; Keman and Kalamadea were hunting. The two elves were entertaining their captors, and would not be back until after midnight at best. There was no one to notice her going.

  Kala noticed her arrival, though, when she presented herself to the Priest-guard at the entrance to Diric's tent. That wise woman only smiled, assured the guard that Dine was expecting the demon, and waved her inside.

  Diric, of course, was nowhere to be found; Kala went off to her side of the tent, chuckling at something under her breath. Shana was just as glad she hadn't insisted on playing escort. This was going to be difficult enough as it was.

  Lorryn was waiting at the entrance to his slice of tent, holding the flap of the partition open for her, his golden hair shining with the sheen of the true metal in the lamplight. I heard you outside, he said by way of explanation.

  She slipped inside and he dropped the flap behind her, taking his favorite pillow and gesturing to hers. So what was so important that you needed to talk to me late at night— one eyebrow rose shrewdly —without Rena? And without Mero? Both of whom seem to have pressing concerns elsewhere. Or can I guess?

  I think you already have, she replied, both relieved and a little deflated at the same time. After the way she'd been steeling herself to present the terrible revelation to him—

  So my precious sister is falling in love with a halfblood, if she hasn't done so already. He shook his head dolefully. Aye me, what is this world coming to? It is the end of civilization as we know it! Unnatural! Depraved! He pulled a long face and stroked an imaginary beard with feigned agitation in a clever imitation of a horrified elder of any race.

  It was so clever that she broke into a fit of giggles; he grinned, and dropped the pretense.

  As long as you don't mind, how could I? he countered. Mero is your friend, after all, and I don't know what he could have meant to you before this. And I'm not asking, he added hastily, before she could say anything. Rena is her own woman, and has the right to make up her own mind about who she ties herself to in any way. The Ancestors know she paid for that right.

  He fell silent for a moment, but she sensed he had a bit more to say. She was betrothed to a complete idiot, just before we ran away. It was Lord Tylar's idea, a marriage-alliance with a family that was older and more powerful than ours, and he would have had her mind altered before if he had to if that was what it would take to put the marriage through. She says that, and in retrospect, I believe her. How could I not wish her well?

  Shana shrugged. Mero and I have never been more than friends, although his cousin tried to play matchmaker between us. It didn't work. And the least said about that, the better. I know that he really likes Rena as a person, and I know he'll never treat her as less than a person. After that? She shrugged again. Who knows? Whatever happens, happens. When we get back to the Citadel, though, I don't think you need to worry about the wizards refusing to take her in. Not after what Valyn did for us.

  He sighed. I have to admit that I had been worried about that; if you wouldn't take her, I'd have to go with her. I couldn't abandon her too.

  Too?

  She was aching with curiosity, but she wouldn't ask; not with the pain in his eyes so stark, it matched any of her own burdens. But he looked up from his hands, and he offered her the answer, like a gift.

  Mother—Elven Lady Viridina—is my real mother; it was my father who was the human, he told her softly. She sheltered me with illusion until I was old enough to understand, told me what I was, and taught me to protect myself. I told you why we had to run, that mages of the Council were coming to test me for illusion, to unmask me as a halfblood. Father knows that he is fullblooded; I couldn't stay to be discovered, but by running, I practically admitted I'm a halfblood. So that leaves—

  Your mother as having taken a human lover, Shana breathed. And it would have to have been a deliberate pregnancy, wouldn't it?

  It means the end of everything for her, he acknowledged, bleakly. She can feign insanity; she can create a false memory for the Council members of having her own child born dead and a halfblood substituted by the midwife. If they choose to press the subject, that won't explain why I looked like a fullblood from the beginning, but if she pretends to go insane, all they'll do is lock her up in Lord Tylar's keeping. But she'll live out all of her time in three small rooms, a prisoner in her own home, denied anything but the most basic necessities. Lord Tylar will never forgive her deception; more than that, he will never forgive the implication that he could not father a son.

  He was more troubled and guilty than he appeared; Shana sensed that clearly. He felt as if everything that was happening to his mother now was somehow his fault. Unfortunately, there wasn't a great deal she could say, and none of it would be very comforting or ease his burden of guilt.

  So rather than mouth platitudes, she kept her thoughts to herself, and simply let what comfort could come from her presence ease him. Finally he looked up from his clasped hands with a wan smile.

  I have one question for you, Shana—but I'm afraid it's personal and entirely impertinent, and I have no right to ask it

  Oh? Then you might as well, she told him. I'm supposedly an expert in impertinence.

  Were you in love with Valyn?

  Since she had just been pondering that very question herself, it caught her unawares, and she answered before she could stop herself. If you'd asked me that a month ago, I'd have said ye
s, she replied with an honesty that shocked her as she listened to the words coming from her own mouth. Now—I'm not sure. I'm beginning to think—maybe not.

  Ah, he replied, and his smile became a bit less wan. Good.

  Good? she asked sharply. Why good?

  Because it means I have a chance, he said, his own candor shocking her further, as he unclasped his hands and captured one of hers. I can do my best, and see if it's enough—but it wouldn't be enough if you'd been in love with Valyn. I can't compete with a ghost

  Oh. That was all she could manage, as she stared at him with wide, round eyes. I see.

  'I think you do. He stared into her eyes for a moment longer, then got to his feet, tugging her gently to hers. Meanwhile, I think Mero and Rena have the right idea. Shall we follow their example?

  Sheyrena thought that she had never been so happy in her life. As she and Mero walked slowly in the moonlight soft breezes stirring scent out of the grass beneath their feet, insects and birds singing all around them, it was easy to forget that they were captives and simply hold to the moment.

  She had spent her life grasping at moments of transitory happiness; she was well practiced at it.

  Mero was completely unlike a hero out of a romance—not too surprising, really, since all those romances were written under the careful eye of elven males, and while they would portray the kind of male an elven maiden would find attractive, they would also portray the male other males would find appropriate. He had not come into her life, swept her off her feet, and proceeded to wrap her in a cloak of protection and make all her decisions for her. No, be had been supportive, but not precisely protective. When her own uncertainties surfaced, as they were all too prone to do, he would give her a look or a handclasp that said without words, You can do this. You can contribute. You are clever enough.

  That was more important to her than all of the words of protection in the universe. You can hold your own___

  His hand held out to her was not the hand of the master, but the hand to help her over a difficult spot; one that expected her to do the same in return for him.