Ashra was instantly outraged. "Poor! You are the best I have ever heard!"
Tye grinned at her. "And how many have you heard?"
Color stained her cheeks. "Enough," she said softly, touching fingers to his face. "Enough—and more—to know."
The old man tightened his robe around thin shoulders. "What magic do you claim, shapechanger?"
Aidan, considering, recalled Siglyn's trade was in magic, and fashioned his answer to suit it. "Nothing to rival yours, old man." He smiled disarmingly. "All I claim is lir-shape."
Siglyn grunted. "Nothing more? No more than that?"
Aidan shrugged, making light of his answer. "We can heal, when required."
Rheumy blue eyes narrowed. "And?"
Aidan put off answering by unplugging the wineskin and drinking, then carefully squeaking the cork home. "Some say there is a third gift," he admitted frankly. "But it is only rarely used. We do not care for what it does to a man's soul."
The old man smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. "And what does it do to a man's soul, that you would quail from it?"
Aidan's gaze did not waver. "It takes," he answered flatly. "It overpowers. It sucks away a man's will and leaves him with nothing at all save what the other tells him."
Siglyn's eyes shone. He grunted approval, as if vindicated. "I thought so. I've heard it said many a time the Cheysuli have he power to be demons, if they choose."
Aidan's tone was clipped. "We do not choose," he declared. "We understand too well what compulsion can do to a man, and we choose otherwise. The power to be demons is reserved by the Ihlini. It is what they practice."
Tufted white brows jerked upward. "Do we?" Siglyn asked. "Is that what we practice?"
Even as the purple flame shrouded the old man's fingers, Aidan was on his feet. The knife was in his hand, but Ashra was at his side instantly, touching his wrist.
"No," she said softly.
Siglyn laughed. It had a rusty, creaking sound, as if only rarely used. "I have taken you by surprise."
Aidan, whose immediate testing of the lir-link told him there was no interference, frowned at the old man. "Aye," he said abstractedly. "But—I can reach my lir. And he said nothing—"
"Does it matter?" Ashra asked.
"He should have warned me. A lir always gives warning of an enemy."
Her fingers turned the knife downward. "That should tell you something."
Aidan barely heard her. He stared across the fire at Tye, whose green eyes were odd in the flickering light. "And you?"
Tye smiled. "I am, as you are, many things. Solindish: aye. Ihlini as well. But also a singer. My teacher was Taliesin."
"Taliesin has been dead for more than twenty years!"
"I am older than I look." Tye sat upright, setting aside his wineskin. "You are not a fool, Aidan of Homana. Why act like one now?"
Bitterness welled up. "Am I a fool to be wary of the enemy?"
Siglyn glared. "How quick you are to assume the worst of us. Aye, you are a fool! You have not wit enough to ask your bird if we mean you any harm. And yet only moments before you condescended to inform us a prince is no different from any other."
Teel? Aidan asked. Why was I not warned? You should have told me… and I should have sensed the interference in the link—His belly tightened.—unless they also have something of a Cheysuli for use in making shields—
Teel sounded disgusted. Are you so blind as that? Or have you become a lackwit?
I am no lackwit because I prefer to know who my enemies are—Aidan broke it off laggardly, belatedly comprehending. Is that it? Solindish, Ihlini, or no—they are not my enemy?
In the link, Teel sighed. There is hope for you yet.
Irritated, Aidan glared again at the old man. "Do you blame me for being dubious? Our blood has been at war for centuries. You yourself fought—" He frowned. "And if you fought Carillon, it means you fought with Bellam."
"Of course it does," the old man snapped. "I was a loyal Solindishman—"
"—a loyal Ihlini—"
"—and dedicated to my land." Siglyn glared. "You are rude. You have no respect for the aged—"
"You have no respect for me—"
"Because we fooled you?" Siglyn grinned, baring old teeth. "You fooled yourself. Because we did not declare our race, as you do with all your barbaric, ostentatious gold—" he made a rude gesture all too dismissive of the lir-gold "—then we are obviously tricksters out to spill your blood." Siglyn indicated the knife still clutched in Aidan's hand. "Of course, you have the weapon…" He sighed, glancing at Tye. "The Cheysuli spend much of their time telling gullible Homanans that we are all demons and servants of Asar-Suti, the Seker—without once considering our feelings."
"Your feelings!" Aidan was astounded. "You are the enemy—at least, some of you are…" He scowled blackly at the old man, disliking the morass he was, from all appearances, walking into on his own. "Too many of you are. Do you know how many of my race—of my kin—your kind have killed? Do you know that Strahan's son only weeks ago murdered a helpless infant, and then tried to kill your lord?"
"What baby?" Ashra asked. "We have been long on the road, and news travels slowly…" A vertical line drew heavy brows together. "What baby, Aidan?"
"My cousin," he answered curtly. "Lochiel murdered him in his bed without even so much as touching him."
She exchanged a glance with Tye. Neither of them spoke, but Aidan sensed they were not pleased by the news. Ashra squeezed his wrist briefly in a gesture he interpreted as sympathy.
Siglyn shifted on his cushion, clearly annoyed. "Strahan was a puffed-up, arrogant fool with delusions of godhood… must you judge us all by him?"
"It is a bit difficult not to, when he has been so dedicated to destroying my race. And now his son as well—"
"But we are not his sons, or his daughter," Ashra said quietly. "We are merely Solindish-born Ihlini, trying to make a living in a land gone mad from war." She sighed, removing her hand from Aidan's wrist. "Strahan has done more damage to his race than any other, save for Tynstar. It was he who began it all."
Siglyn grunted. "You know nothing about Tynstar, girl. I knew him personally—" But he broke it off, waving a hand at Aidan. "Sit down, sit down. If you are to hear the truth, you should do it with cloth beneath your rump and good wine close to hand." Tufted brows rose. "Sit down, boy!"
In the link, Teel suggested it might be wise. No sense in standing when one could sit and be more comfortable.
Aidan sat. But was not comfortable.
Chapter Three
« ^ »
"First," he said, before any of them could speak, "I want to know how. And why."
Ashra, who added fuel to the fire, cast him a puzzled glance across one slender shoulder. Ringlets writhed. "What do you mean?"
"I should have known you. AH my life I have been told a Cheysuli can tell when an Ihlini is near, because of the interference in the lir-link. And the lir always forewarns—" Aidan grimaced, not looking at Teel, "—usually forewarns." He sighed, shifting the wineskin in his lap. "None of us knew Lochiel because he had a ring once worn by my father. It has been bespelled for years, ever since he gave it, unknowing, to an Ihlini witch. Rhiannon." He dismissed her with a gesture. "Lochiel has the ring now, and he used it. Is that how Teel and I did not know you? Have you a like item?"
Tye shook his head as he settled down against his rolled blanket. "Have you met none of us before?"
Aidan nearly smiled. "No Ihlini has come into Mujhara—or Clankeep—for many, many years."
Ashra was clearly startled. "And you have been nowhere else?"
Her unfeigned astonishment at first puzzled him, until he realized she had most likely spent her life on the road, and could not comprehend a man who lived only in two places.
And then he considered how that sounded, even to him: he had been nowhere in the world save Mujhara and Clankeep. Even though one day he would rule a realm it took weeks to ride across.
&
nbsp; Tye grinned. "All unknowing, she strikes true." He squirted wine into his throat, swallowed, then plugged the opening. "You did not know us because there was nothing to know."
"You are Ihlini—"
"—and kin." Tye's green eyes were odd in the light. "Without your gold and your lir, would another Cheysuli know you as Cheysuli?"
Aidan gestured. "I may lack the color, but—"
Siglyn cut him off. "Answer the question."
Aidan waited a moment, marshaling his courtesy, then did as Siglyn ordered. "Without my gold and my lir, it is possible he would not… but if you knew how to look for other things—"
Tye sighed in disgust. "He will not cooperate."
"Aidan." Ashra's voice was soft. "You did not know we are Ihlini because we are kin. It is true all Cheysuli bear certain similarities in color and shape of bones, but past that there is only what resides in here." She touched one breast. "We are less obvious than Cheysuli, lacking a uniform color and the lir, but our hearts are the same, and our blood."
Aidan avoided her eyes, looking instead at his healed hand. There was no scar, but he remembered all too well the pain, the shock, the acknowledgment of Lochiel's intent.
Siglyn's voice was harsh. "It's an easy enough answer, boy: we did not drink of the cup. We are uncommitted Ihlini—save to our land—and therefore Asar-Suti is not in us. Our blood is ours, not his… have you or any of your kin ever known a hostile Ihlini who was not one of the Seker's?"
Aidan, who had known none at all, could only think on the stories he had heard. His uncles had known Ihlini, but all had served Asar-Suti. Keely's contact had been with Strahan and his minions, all sworn to the Seker. There was Rhiannon, but she, too, belonged to the Seker. Every Ihlini, save for one, had meant his kin harm.
Then he stirred, recalling. "There was Taliesin."
Tye shook his head. "Taliesin repudiated the Seker. It was why Tynstar made him drink of the blood, so he would live forever knowing what had been done in the name of his race… and it was why Strahan destroyed his hands."
Aidan stared into flames. "Then I have never known—or known of—a hostile Ihlini who did not serve the Seker."
"To drink of the blood is to bind yourself to Asar-Suti," Siglyn said. "The bond, once forged, cannot be broken, save by death. Taliesin eventually was cast out—but an uncommitted Ihlini always knows one of the Seker's, just as a Cheysuli does."
Tye's lips peeled back. "There is a stench," he said clearly, "that clings to everything they touch."
Aidan drew in a breath. "And so you are saying they are different from you?"
Ashra smiled. "They have always been different."
He found breathing difficult. He wanted to laugh, but there was nothing to laugh at, save the memories of lessons taught so carefully in Clankeep. Lessons all Cheysuli learned, believing implicitly, because the shar tahls said so. If it was said by a shar tahl, it was so: everyone knew that. The shar tahls were the guardians of the prophecy, of the old ways, making certain tradition remained untainted and the service continued unbroken.
"Untainted," Aidan murmured, "by such things as the altering of a custom called kin-wrecking, even though the need is gone."
"What?" Siglyn snapped; the old man, regardless of revelation, was unchanged.
Aidan swallowed painfully. "What if they are wrong? What if, after too many years, it has become habit to hate Ihlini—habit to name them enemy, suitable only for killing? Do you see? We are taught it very young: to hate, and fear, and kill…" He shut his eyes and rubbed wearily at his face. "The prophecy says we must unite two magic races, and yet the shar tahls tell us time and time again we should have no congress with Ihlini, because Ihlini want to destroy us."
"They do," Ashra explained. "Those of the Seker do—but not the rest of us."
Tye's tone was oddly gentle. "Teachings can become twisted. There may be no intent, but it occurs… and eventually the twisting becomes unchanging tradition."
Aidan stared at them all. "Are we wrong? Are all the teachings twisted?"
A glint showed in Tye's eyes. "Why ask us? We are Ihlini. The enemy. And this is merely a clever game played to cause you grief, confusion—and doubt." He smiled crookedly. "Ask your lir, Cheysuli. Ask your other self."
Aidan did it through the lir-link, because there was no interference. Because he could, in spite of Ihlini presence. Because he was afraid not to, as if asking aloud cheapened the lir-bond his kind revered so much.
Tell me, he said. Are all the teachings wrong?
Teel did not answer.
Tell me, Aidan repeated. Are we blinded by the very thing that all Cheysuli serve?
The lir-link quivered briefly. Teel's reluctance to answer was manifest.
Aidan forsook the link. "Tell me!" he shouted. "I have conversed with gods… do I not deserve an answer from the lir they gave me?"
Teel's tone lacked his customary acerbity. The times demand harsh truths, he said at last. And sometimes harsher falsehoods.
Falsehoods. Aidan clamped his teeth shut. Are you saying all of it is a lie?
They have taught what had to be taught.
Why did it have to be taught?
Ignorant men do ignorant things.
Such as ignoring prophecies.
After a moment: Aye.
And ignoring the prophecy results in no Firstborn.
Feathers were fluffed. Aye.
You have us, Aidan said intently. You have us, and the Ihlini. Are we not enough? Why must there be the Firstborn?
Because they were firstborn… and the gods want them back.
Suspicion roused itself. Firstborn—bestborn? Is that what it is? The gods gave us self-rule, and the bloodlines fragmented because of Ihlini ambition. So the only way of restoring the balance—of regaining the bestborn children—is to make them out of the bits and pieces culled from all the lands.
Not all. Teel sounded himself again. Not all—only four. Four realms and two races.
Aidan felt rage building. With effort, he damped it down. If they want them so badly, why not simply make them? It was what they did in the first place!
Teel sighed faintly. They gave their children self-rule. Self-rule perpetuates itself… none of you are what you once were, and the gods can force nothing. They can only ask, and suggest, and guide—
Gods are gods! Aidan cried. Gods can do anything!
Even create a being greater than themselves.
Greater—?
There is nothing a god can do that you cannot do.
But there is—
All that a god can do can be done by the children. Only the ways and means are different.
Teel—
The raven sighed.. There is intellect, and freedom, and skills beyond belief. They gave you everything. They made you what you were—you made you what you are.
I do not know what I am, anymore.
Amusement touched the link. Child of the gods. What more is there to be?
It was too much to contemplate. Aidan withdrew from the link and sat motionless near the fire, staring sightlessly into flames. Light burned first into his eyes, then into his brain.
"Times have changed," he murmured. "Everything has changed."
No one said anything.
"It was a means." Aidan stirred a little. "A means, nothing more. A way of communicating. Too often one man will not listen to another, no matter how wise he is… but if a god says it—" Oh, gods. "—if a god says it, one or two may listen. Then one or two more. Until eventually a grouping becomes a clan, and a clan becomes a people." He sighed heavily. "We serve a collection of words. And the words have become twisted."
Ashra's voice was soft. "Then set them straight," she said. "You have it in you, Aidan."
His laughter was bittersweet. "I have nothing inside me now save a profound emptiness."
Green eyes glinted. "Fill it," Tye suggested.
Aidan sighed and slung aside the wineskin. "I need sleep. I need a true sleep, not thi
s pale mockery filled with too many dreams…"
"Everyone dreams," Tye said.
"Not like this. Not as I do." Aidan spread his skins. "Not so vividly, or so unsettlingly."
Ashra was very calm. "Siglyn speaks dreams."
"He speaks—?" But Aidan shook his head. "No insult intended, but I do not need a road magician's tricks—"
"And I'll give you none," snapped Siglyn. "I speak truths, not falsehoods."
Truths and falsehoods. Much as Teel had mentioned. Aidan looked across the fire at the old man. Shadows and firelight warred in his face, making planes and hollows and creases. The rheumy eyes were bright. The challenge in them implicit.
Aidan nodded once. "Speak my dreams," he said. "Divide the falsehoods from the truths."
The old man smiled. "First there is Tye, and Ashra. Then I will speak your dreams."
Chapter Four
« ^ »
Tye brought his lute from the wagon and seated himself on his blanket across the fire from Aidan. The instrument was delicate, of a pale blond wood with ivory pegs and inlay. In firelight, fragile sinew strings glowed gold.
Slender hands caressed the wood and strings though no sound was emitted. The lute waited. "Will you hear me, Homanan?"
Not Cheysuli. Frowning, Aidan nodded.
"Will you listen, Homanan?"
He wanted to protest; did not. He nodded yet again.
Notes ran from the lute like water, clear and cool and sweet. It sang of tenderness and joy, love and dark hatred, astonishment and acceptance. The sounds pinned Aidan to his skins, then flayed him until his spirit vibrated with the richness of its song. And then the lute-song, dying away, became nothing more than accompaniment to the human instrument.
Tye sang in a true baritone almost at odds with his beauty, for Aidan had expected a tenor. But the baritone was clear and effortlessly eloquent, swinging down to caress the top range of a skilled bass, then soaring upward to drift across the sweet register of the finest tenor. Tye's magic was manifest.
Aidan stared into the fire until it burned away his sight. He saw colors inside his head. And then a shadow crossed his vision, blotting out the fire, and he saw Ashra begin to dance.
Cheysuli 7 - Flight of the Raven Page 22