Dagger's Point (Shadow series) (27 page)

“You don’t know anything about it,” Jael snapped, although she knew it was no secret in Allanmere. Jael herself had heardthe entire story, plainly and without embellishment, from Argent when she was old enough to understand that this was yet another subject she was not to broach to the High Lady of Allanmere. Donya’s twin brother Danyel had become infected with the shifter curse when Donya had consented to take him on a journey into the unexplored west, forcing Donya to kill him. Jael knew, too, that that memory haunted the High Lady when Jael had planned her westward journey, and that her mother would

not have been nearly so worried—or worrisome—had Jael picked another direction in which to travel.

In retrospect, the High Lady’s concern had been more than warranted, and it stung Jael to admit that.

“Jaellyn.” Tanis held her hand. “You have to promise me that you’ll kill me—and burn me—if I go shifter. Promise.”

“I promise.” Jael folded her hand over his and forced a grin. “But it’d better not come to that, because then who’d see to me if
I’m
infected? Now, let’s get going and find a mage to make sure this conversation stays completely speculative.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Tanis said ruefully. “Let’s see how fast these ponies can travel.”

Jael was heartened to find that the ponies, while they were not built for speed, were strong and sturdy and could maintain a steady, distance-eating lope for a long time. Even as they rode, however, Jael felt her hopes dwindling. The vast green sea of the Singing Forest continued beside them unbroken and with no visible end to the north, and when Jael probed the beast-minds around her, she could find none to tell her how far it might be to the northern edge of the forest; either the animals near the northern edge were too far away for Jael’s inexperienced range, or the animals’ minds were too unsophisticated to uncover the particular information she wanted. She said nothing of this to Tanis, however, and continued ruthlessly northward, wringing her mind to focus on whatever beast-minds she could reach.

“Jaellyn!” Tanis’s voice, heavy with pain and breathless with fear, broke through Jael’s concentration, and Jael forced herself back into her mind and body with some effort. Gods, her head ached miserably, her muscles were screaming from their tense clenching, and the sun was near its zenith.

“What?” Jael said, shaking her head to clear it. The motion sent spears of new pain through her temples.

“Look to the west,” Tanis said urgently. “There’s something coming.”

Jael squinted westward. Sure enough, there was something approaching—several somethings, in fact—very rapidly through the tall grass. Some kind of large herd animals? Very large indeed, if Jael’s perception of their distance and size was correct, although it was hard to judge against the featureless grass. Something about them—yes! It wasn’t herd animals at all; it was riders.

“They’re people,” Jael told Tanis, reining in her pony. The other ponies stopped, too, and Jael could feel their relief. “People on horses.”

“People, this far west?” Tanis asked doubtfully. “Should we wait? Arm ourselves? Hide? Run?”

Jael touched her bow but did not take it from its case.

“We’ll wait,” she said. “Whoever they are, maybe they can help us. Where are those translation spells Rhadaman gave us?”

Tanis pulled the small sack out of his saddlebag and peered into it.

“Two copper bracelets,” he said. “But, Jaellyn, how can we trust these people?”

“How can we not?” Jael asked practically. “You can’t fight, and the ponies are too tired and heavily loaded to outrun anything faster than a snail right now.”

“What if they want to rob us?” Tanis persisted.

“If they’ve got a mage who can cure the shifter sickness,” Jael said simply, “they can have everything we own.”

There was, of course, no argument Tanis could make to that, and he urged his pony slightly forward so he could sit beside Jael and watch the riders approaching. He did not draw his sword—he couldn’t have used it in any event—but he checked the draw of the dagger in his left boot. Jael glanced at him, then slid from the saddle to stand beside him; if it came to fighting, she’d do better on her feet.

As the moving figures approached, however, Jael realized with dawning amazement that they were not riders at all—nor were they human, nor Kresh, nor elves, nor shifters, nor any type of creature Jael had ever seen or imagined in her life.

From the waist up they seemed relatively human, although their large, broad-shouldered frames were covered with a sleek pelt of hair or fur the color of dried grass. Their faces, too, were covered with shorter fur except for a narrow margin of bare skin around their eyes, noses, and mouths, and catlike ears pricked up at the top of their heads. Shaggy, wavy manes of hair, the same color as that on their bodies, cascaded over their shoulders and flowed down their backs. Their strong hands clutched spears and bows. They wore no clothing, the females as bare-breasted as the males, although they wore a good quantity of heavy gold jewelry and strings of horn and bone beads.

Below the waist, however, any resemblance to humanity disappeared completely. Now Jael realized why she’d mistaken the creatures for riders. The creatures’ waists flowed smoothly to a sturdy, horizontal torso rather like that of a huge cat, covered with a fur the same color as that on the upper body, but thicker and shaggier. The forelegs and paws were catlike, too, as best Jael could see, though the hindquarters more resembled those of a horse but ended in broad, shaggy-fetlocked cloven hooves. Shaggy horselike tails dangled down from their rumps.

“Baaros preserve us,” Tanis whispered. “What are they?”

“I don’t know,” Jael said slowly. “But they’re carrying weapons, and they’re not shifters—at least no kind of snifters I’ve ever heard of. Give me one of those translation spells.”

Tanis obeyed, sliding the second bracelet onto his own wrist. Jael was reassured to feel the familiar warm tingle of magic when she touched her own bracelet. After their experience in the Singing Forest, she’d begun to fear that she’d lost her magic-spotting talent.

They waited while the strange-looking creatures approached, Jael watching intently for the first sign of one of them leveling a spear or drawing a bow, but the creatures did neither of these things. The creatures stopped a short distance away, gazing from Jael to Tanis with open amazement.

Finally the foremost creature, a male, stepped forward, and Jael found herself looking into silver catlike eyes more than a head above her. The male hesitated, glancing perplexedly from the pendant around Jael’s neck to her sword, then back again. At last he extended one hand. Jael was surprised to see that his large hand had six long fingers rather than five.

Equally hesitant, Jael reached out, expecting to take his hand; as soon as she extended her own hand, however, she found her forearm clasped firmly by the huge hand. Jael clasped his forearm in return as best she could, although her fingers could not reach around the muscular limb.

“I am Wirax, leader of the Second Hunt of the grass hunters,” he said. His voice was low and melodious. “Who are you and what is your clan?”

“I’m—” Jael hesitated again. “I’m Jaellyn, and my friend is Tanis. I’ve come seeking my people and my clan.”

“What is your clan?” Wirax repeated slowly. “You are one of the mountain folk, are you not? You wear their symbol.” He indicated Jael’s pendant.

“My father may be one of the—the mountain folk,” Jael said. “I’ve never met him or his people. I know only what my mother has told me of him. Can you help me find him?”

“How can you not know your people and your clan?” Wirax asked as if he had not heard Jael’s last statement. “You speak our tongue. You wear their sign and have their scent.” He released her arm, then grasped her wrist, holding her hand up. “But not the same. You have not the look of the mountain folk.”

Jael started to explain, then shook her head.

“I’ll be happy to tell you everything I know,” she said. “But my friend is hurt and needs help, and we were both injured by skinshifters.” She braced herself as she made that last admission, fearing that these people, like humans, would react with typical fear or hostility, fleeing or driving them away, if not attacking.

Wirax, however, only nodded.

“We will take you to our camp, and our healer will tend your friend,” he said. “You can answer our questions then.”

He glanced at Tanis, then at the ponies.

“Your friend is weak and your riding beasts are weary,” he said. “My sister Vani and I will carry you. We carry the mountain folk sometimes on hunts to the dragon mountains. My folk will lead your riding beasts and follow.”

Tanis looked alarmed at this suggestion, but Jael gave him a warning glance; it wouldn’t do to anger these people. Tanis reluctantly let her help him down from the pony, and when they turned, a tall female was there. Wirax helped Tanis onto the female’s back, and the female—Vani, apparently—took some of the rope from the saddle, passing it around Tanis’s back and tying it around her own waist.

“Don’t try to hold on, young one,” Vani said, reaching behind her to pat Tanis’s leg. “Your arm won’t hold, and our camp is a good hour’s run.”

Jael squinted doubtfully at the broad expanse of Wirax’s back. She was an accomplished rider, but Wirax was certainly wearing no saddle and his back, not at all like a horse’s, was a good bit taller than she was used to.

Wirax, seeming to understand her dilemma, extended his hand with a smile. This time Jael gladly clasped arms with him, and with Wirax supporting her weight, Jael was able to scramble awkwardly onto his back. The fur was unexpectedly soft and thick.

“I feel the strength in your legs,” Wirax said. “Do you need a rope?”

“I think I’ll be all right,” Jael said. She awkwardly wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Not like that.” Wirax took her hands and showed her how to hold on, her arms passing under his armpits and bending up to clasp his shoulders. “Thus, or you’ll bounce about. Hold fast, then, young one.”

Jael gave a last backward look to be sure some of Wirax’s companions were indeed bringing the ponies. Then she had to devote all her attention to holding on as Wirax launched himself forward.

Despite the rough beginning, Wirax soon fell into a smooth, rather rolling gallop of unbelievable swiftness. Jael felt the powerful muscles ripple under her legs, and his shoulders were strong and solid under her hands, his pelt soft. His scent was strong and fresh, and Jael suddenly felt her body warm to it, the smell and the feel of him. Jael shivered and held on tight, breathing in his scent as his hair blew back into her face.

The plain rolled past with amazing speed. The grass was green from the frequent spring rains, but Jael could well imagine that in summer, when there was less water, the grass would dry to just the color of Wirax’s fur. If the plains hunters folded their legs and lay in ambush in the grass, their eyes would just top the tall grass, and they’d be all but impossible to see.

Far to the west she could see more clearly the mountains she’d glimpsed the night before. They were closer than she’d thought, but were veiled by a thick mist and Jael could not determine how tall they might be. She’d never seen such mountains in her life, and ordinarily the misty heights might appear grim and forbidding, but something in those mountains made Jael’s heart soar with joy. As clearly and instinctively as she’d felt at peace and welcomed when she’d set foot on the grassy plain, now she felt a pleasurable twinge of something very like recognition looking on those mountains, a feeling like that of homecoming.

And wasn’t she in fact coming home, in a sense, after all?

Ahead of them she saw a dark spot surrounded by what appeared to be huge mushrooms. As they approached, however, Jael realized that the dark spot was a camp of some sort, and the mushrooms were large hide tents. More of the grass hunters, as Wirax had called them, were coming from the camp to greet them, including some smaller ones that Jael decided must be children despite the perfectly functional bows and spears clutched in their hands. Soon Jael and Wirax were surrounded by a staring throng.

Jael looked around for Vani, and was alarmed to find her nowhere in sight. Wirax seemed to sense her alarm.

“Vani ran ahead,” he said. “Your companion lost his wakening some time ago, and she is a faster runner than I, so she took him ahead to Vedara, the healer. You can climb down now, Jaellyn.”

Jael felt something very much like regret as she slid off Wirax’s muscular back. She’d never ridden a horse so swift.

“There will be time enough for you to meet my clan,” Wirax said, raising his voice so the statement included his people as well as Jael. “For now I will take you to Vedara and your friend.”

Jael looked back the way they’d come. There was a moving blob on the horizon, probably the others with the ponies. Reassured, Jael nonetheless stayed close to Wirax’s side as he led her into the circle of tents. She was rather embarrassed to note that Wirax had to slow his pace significantly to let Jael keep up with him.

As they walked through the camp, Jael was reminded of the temporary villages made by some of the more nomadic of the el-ven clans. The tents were huge structures formed of stitched-together hides and mounted on solid frameworks of poles. Round holes had been cut at the top of the tents, cunningly covered by small upside-down V-shaped “tents” to keep out the rain and let smoke escape. The tents were bare of ornamentation on the top and sides, but patterns of brightly dyed beads had been stitched around the hanging flaps that served as doors.

Inside the circle of tents was a smaller circle, and then another. At the center of the circle of tents was a cluster of six large firepits, and over each of these a large carcass of some sort of hooved quadruped was roasting.

Everywhere she looked, Jael saw more of the amazing creatures and again she was struck by the reminders of an elven village. Here, too, the inhabitants were going about their everyday duties—caring for their young, mending or making weapons, weaving baskets, scraping or stitching hides, preparing food, or simply lounging about talking. Jael was comforted by the casual appearance of the camp and the mild curiosity with which the inhabitants looked at her.