Dagger's Point (Shadow series) (31 page)

Jael was relieved to find caves, their perfectly round mouths showing that they had been shaped by the Kresh, at regular intervals. In fact, Jael was surprised at the frequency of these shelters until she remembered that Wirax had said nothing of the Kresh using pack animals, and of course not all of them were Wind Dancers who could run so swiftly—even if the Wind Dancers could attain such speeds laden with trade goods on the treacherous mountain road. Traders would likely travel, therefore, at a normal walking speed or slower, and thus would require trail shelters at more frequent intervals. At any rate, Jael had no difficulty locating such a shelter near sunset.

The cave mouth was open and unconcealed, but Jael was surprised to see that whoever had shaped the cave had curved the passageway sharply just after the entrance, then back again, to baffle any wind that might blow into the cave. The passageway itself was so narrow that Jael had to unload the ponies before she could squeeze them inside. After the passageway, however, the cave opened into a small but comfortable dome-shaped room. There were no supplies left for travelers, no wood or peat or even coal, although a fìrepit had been shaped in the floor. A large rock lay in the middle of the fìrepit, but it was ordinary granite.

“I suppose they’re used to the cold and don’t need fires,” Tanis said, his teeth chattering, as he followed Jael’s glance at the firepit.

“They need fires, unless they eat their meat raw,” Jael replied, scowling. Surely the Kresh didn’t carry coal on their backs every trip they made? “At least we’re out of the wind. I’ll get the ponies to lie down on either side of us. That’ll keep us warm enough.”

Despite her words, Jael was bitterly disappointed. It would have been impossible for them to pack any quantity of firewood—even if there’d been any on the grassy plains—or coal into the mountains on their ponies. But Tanis needed warmth, and she herself would pay dearly for hot tea.

She filled the ponies’ feed bags and settled Tanis in as comfortably as she could, then over Tanis’s protests she ventured back outside in search of something she could burn. Fortunately she was so sensitive to the resonance of the stone of the mountains that she could clearly feel where roots dug into the rocky face, and her sword cut easily through the tough, scrubby pine saplings she found in a few sheltered nooks. The wood was still green and there was pitifully little of it, but it would burn long enough to heat the cave slightly and warm water for tea, and to mull some wine for Tanis.

Despite his protests at Jael venturing out into the mountains alone, Tanis was glad enough for the small blaze that Jael kindled from the scrubby pine. Jael was gratified that the resinous wood burned easily, even green, and the wonderful smell of the crackling fire, its cheerful light, and the hot tea Jael brewed warmed them more than its heat.

After they ate, Jael tended Tanis’s side, liberally smearing the wound with the ointment Vedara had given her. She could see plainly, however, that the gray discoloration had spread across Tanis’s back like an ugly rash. Jael, however, said nothing of this, merely reapplying the dressing and assuring Tanis that despite the strenuous climb, his wound had not reopened.

“What about your leg?” Tanis demanded, and Jael, who had hoped to wait until Tanis was asleep to tend her own wound, could do nothing but unwrap the dressing around her thigh.

Tanis gasped, and Jael’s stomach lurched when she saw how far the gray had crept down her leg and up, too, over her hip. She remembered what Vedara had said about the Kresh being “more susceptible to such infection.” If the shifter disease had spread this far even with Vedara’s treatment and his ointment,

how long could Jael last before the shifter curse consumed her? Jael’s hands were shaking so badly that it was Tanis who slathered the ointment over her leg and tied the dressings in place. Jael pulled her trousers up quickly, eager to hide the tainted flesh from view. Tanis put his good arm around her, and this time Jael felt none of the wonderful inner strength she’d come to rely on—she leaned her head against his shoulder and wept, shuddering, into his tunic until there were no more tears to shed. They huddled together between the ponies, saying nothing, while the small fire, like hope, burned down to ashes.

In the morning they found it had grown much colder outside, and dark clouds warned of bad weather to come. Jael and Tanis put on both sets of clothes under the fur outer garments, and the thick layers kept out the biting wind, but their thin gloves and boots, while perfectly adequate for late spring in the lowlands, were no match for the piercing mountain winds. Jael found again that Tanis was far more affected than she, but after a few hours Jael, too, was slowly worn down by the freezing wind. Worse, the trail was growing difficult once more, and the dropoff at the side of the trail had become almost a precipice.

Sometime near midday an icy rain began to fall, and the trail grew so slick and treacherous that Jael and Tanis stopped in one of the frequent caves to thaw their numb fingers and toes and decide what to do.

“We’ll have to stop,” Tanis said, shivering and breathing on his fingers to warm them. “If the trail gets any more icy, we’ll fall right off the side of the mountain.”

“We can’t stop,” Jael argued. “We don’t know how much farther it might be.”

“How much farther
could
it be?” Tanis asked despairingly.

“We’ve been riding, so we’ve come at least twice the distance the Kresh would make in a day if they were walking, even on this road, at least since yesterday afternoon. How far into the mountains can these people live?”

“If they only trade with Wirax’s people a few times a year, as far into the mountains as they like,” Jael returned. “And since they
are
walking, it could take them days—even weeks—to reach us. We’ve got to cover as much of that distance as we can.”

“We’ll be covering a lot of the mountainside with our blood if we keep on in this rain,” Tanis said grimly.

“Tanis—” Jael hesitated. “Remember the promise you asked me to make at the edge of the Singing Forest, that if you turned shifter—”

Tanis looked away. “I remember.”

“If you turn shifter,” Jael said slowly, deliberately, “there’s no way for me to burn—anything—here. And I’m infected, too, worse than you.”

Tanis turned back to her, a troubled expression in his eyes. He nodded.

“All right, then,” he said. “We’ll keep going. As long as we can, anyway.”

“The cold and the air don’t bother me as much as they do you,” Jael said. “As long as the ponies are roped together, I think you can keep riding. You’ll stay warmer that way, too.”

“I can walk if you can,” Tanis protested.

“Now, that’s ridiculous,” Jael said patiently. “You should stay warm and conserve your strength while you can. If I get too tired or too cold, you’ll have to lead the ponies, and if you wear yourself out with me, then what are we going to do?”

“Freeze, I suppose,” Tanis sighed. “All right. I ride. For now,” he added sternly.

“For now,” Jael agreed.

As they continued up the treacherous path, however, Jael quickly realized that Tanis would never be able to take her place. The trail was climbing again, the sleety rain had increased, and the air had thinned further, but more importantly, only Jael’s constant silent reassurance and coaxing kept the ponies calm and cooperative on the slick trail. The effort of concentrating on both the risky footing and the ponies’ fear kept her mind focused away from the cold, but Jael had not anticipated how draining the dual effort and the constant cold could be. Several times one of the ponies would slip and nearly fall; then Jael would have to stop the ponies and silently comfort the trembling animal.

The hill crested, and now they were descending on a trail that wound back and forth across the mountain’s almost sheer face; Jael was dismayed to find that traveling downhill was actually more difficult than climbing the slick trail. By midafternoon she was leaning on her pony as much as she was leading it. The world narrowed to the strength of the pony beside her and the

patch of ice-slick trail in front of her, and their pace slowed until

Jael could measure their progress in inches instead of feet.

Suddenly the ponies stopped, and Jael looked up in surprise to see Tanis standing in front of her, holding the lead pony’s reins firmly.

“Stop,” he said. “Look down the trail. I thought I saw something moving.”

Jael was so cold and drained that it was an effort just to raise her head, but looking down the mountainside at the loops of trail below them, she could indeed see vague, indistinct forms moving there.

“You’re right,” Jael panted. “There’s someone coming. Or something. I can’t tell.”

Her eyes met Tanis’s, and she could tell that he was thinking, as she was, about the conversation they’d had on the second night in Vedara’s tent. Would the Kresh welcome and help them, or might they not see this half-blood stranger and her companion as intruders, even enemies?

“We’ll wait here, then,” Tanis said softly, laying his hand on her shoulder. Jael nodded, fumbling under her sleeve to make sure the bracelet with the translation spell was in place; her wrist was too numb to feel the tingling awareness of the magic.

No time to go anywhere else for a cure for the shifter curse,
Jael thought with surprising calmness.
If they won’t accept me, at least they’ll kill us and burn us, if only for their own safety. At least there’s that. We won’t turn shifter.

She realized that her numb hands were shaking; she clenched them together hard, wincing as hot tingles ran up her cold fingers. Her heart was beating so hard she thought it might burst. She realized belatedly that she had no idea what message Wirax or Vedara had sent to the Kresh.

The figures were closer on the trail below them, and in a lull in the rain Jael could see them more clearly, and although she could make out no details, she could count more than a dozen fur-clad figures. Some were dragging travois, although Jael could not discern whether they were empty or loaded.

For us?
Jael wondered.
To carry us back for help, or to carry our bodies back for burning?

The figures stopped on the trail below, and Jael thought she could see one of them pointing upward, perhaps at her. Instinctively Jael started to draw back out of sight, but she steeled herself—
Why prolong it?
—and raised one hand in acknowledgment. Then she blinked. Were there suddenly fewer figures down there?

Tanis’s fingers dug into her shoulder, and he made a choked, unintelligible sound. Jael spun—too quickly, her vision blurred dizzily—and almost stumbled over the edge of the trail before another hand clamped firmly on her upper arm, steadying her.

Jael stared down at the six-fingered hand clasping her arm, then forced her head up to meet the gaze of piercing, strange bronze eyes that were amazingly familiar—but then, why shouldn’t they be familiar? Jael realized, the sudden recognition causing her heart to skip a beat. She’d seen those same polished-bronze eyes, that very particular slant of cheekbones, in mirrors or reflected in still water all her life.

“Jaellyn,” the figure said, as if tasting the word for the first time. The voice was harsh and rough, perhaps with the cold.

“Father,” Jael said, and fainted.

X

Jael dragged herself up out of sleep as a mortally wounded beast might drag itself from a battle. Gods, she had to be alive; nobody could feel this awful and be dead. Every muscle in her body ached and her head throbbed sickly. Despite her lurching stomach, Jael forced her eyes open.

“You’re awake,” Tanis said relievedly, smiling down at her. “I’ve been awfully worried. It’s been almost two days.”

“I’m all right,” Jael croaked. “I think.” She forced herself up on one elbow to look around, although the effort made her head reel.

She lay on furs, but under the furs was stone. She was clothed in a clean tunic and trousers, but they were not hers. She and Tanis were alone in a dome-shaped shelter about the size of Vedara’s tent, but this shelter was of solid stone—apparently one piece, for Jael could see no block edges. The only light came from fat lamps and a small firepit at the center of the area; there was a door, but it was covered with a leather flap. Her belongings and Tanis’s were nowhere in sight; even their swords and daggers had been taken, although the bracelets containing the translation spells had been left on their wrists. There were no furnishings in the area other than another heap of furs, apparently Tanis’s bed, but Jael realized immediately that the shelter was not without ornamentation—the entire inner stone surface of the structure was deeply engraved with reliefs that might be pictures, runes, or simply ornamental patterns. Jael felt an immediate urge to run her fingers over the carvings.

Tanis handed Jael a cup, and Jael realized she was terribly thirsty; she gulped, then almost spat in amazement as she realized the cup had been filled with plain, cold water, although the water was delightfully clear and sweet.

“What’s happened?” Jael asked when she’d finished the water. The cold liquid refreshed her somewhat, but she still felt weak and sick and oddly empty. Adding to her discomfort was the impatience of the ponies somewhere nearby, far from content with the hard floor of their stalls—

Oh, gods! Jael bolted upright, oblivious to the wave of dizziness the motion caused, and groped in dismay at her throat. The pendant was gone.

“Their healer took it,” Tanis said quietly. “When they took off your furs and saw it, there was a lot of argument. They’d already given me some kind of sleeping potion, so I didn’t understand much of it. I think some of them didn’t want us brought here at all. When they saw you wearing the pendant, though, everyone seemed to get rather angry. That’s about the time I faded out, though. When I woke up, we were here alone. There are guards outside the door, too.”

“Guards?” Jael shook her head and sat up. She’d anticipated possible hostility, but not this; she had supposed they’d either be welcomed or rejected outright, not taken in and then imprisoned.

Tanis nodded.

“A couple of them. I tried to go outside when I woke up. They stopped me. But I’ve looked at your leg, and the gray’s gone. I’d like you to check my side, since I can’t see myself, but I think we were cured.”

“Well, that’s something.” Jael touched her thigh. The wound was certainly less sore.

“I’ll show you something else.” Tanis gestured toward the firepit. “Look at that.”

Jael had to raise her self up a bit higher to see into the firepit, but she gasped when she finally succeeded. There was no fire in the firepit, only a single large rock glowing white hot. Tanis helped Jael slide closer to the firepit, and there she could feel the heat radiating outward from the stone, although she could see nothing heating the rock.

“It’s been like that since I’ve been awake,” Tanis told her. “It must be magic.”

Jael shook her head, feeling none of the tingling she associated with magic.

“Not magic,” she said. “Not any kind I can feel, anyway.” Then she realized that she was feeling no tingling not only from the glowing rock, but from her bracelet. She shook her head and slid it from her wrist, tossing it away with a grimace.

“Ruined,” she said. “Better keep yours away from me or I’ll spoil it, too.”

“Jael!” Tanis’s voice was quiet, but Jael turned immediately to see where he was pointing—the door flap, which was raising.

Instinctively Jael dropped her hand to reach for her sword, scowling as she realized that it was gone. It took her a moment to recognize the figure in the doorway; then she clenched her shaking hands and forced herself to her feet despite her dizzy weakness. She was not going to meet her father on her knees.

Farryn approached her slowly, apparently as much at a loss for words as she. They circled each other cautiously, Jael getting her first good look at the man who had given her life.

Farryn was tall, but not quite as tall as her mother, and slender and wiry in build. His skin was darkly tanned, but his piercing eyes and braided hair were the same bright bronze shade as Jael’s own, and the exotic tilt of his finely sculpted features was very like Jael’s. He wore no jewelry except a pendant exactly resembling the one Jael had formerly worn, but he wore a sword at his hip as well as two daggers.

“Jaellyn,” Farryn said at last, rather hesitantly, and once again Jael was struck by the harshness of his voice. This time, however, she could see its apparent cause—a white scar, likely an old battle wound, crossing the front of his throat.

“Father,” Jael said, just as hesitantly, wincing inwardly. Gods, all she needed to do was faint again to make the ridiculous scene complete! She’d anticipated that Farryn would either welcome her enthusiastically or reject her outright, but she’d never thought of such an awkward, embarrassing meeting. She fought back the instinct to embrace him, elven style; somehow he didn’t seem like the embracing kind.

“You look—fit,” Farryn said at last, giving Jael another head-to-toe scrutiny. Jael started, amazed that she could understand his words without the translation spell; then she realized he was speaking Allanmere’s tongue. “Is your health improved?”

Jael touched her thigh, but felt too shy to pull down her trousers to look.

“I think so,” she said, miserably aware how stiff and formal her voice sounded. “I still feel a little weak and dizzy.”

Farryn nodded.

“That is to be expected,” he said. “You are like us, slow in recovering from such infections.” He glanced at Tanis. “Your companion healed more quickly.”

Jael flushed, suddenly aware that they’d both been ignoring Tanis completely.

“This is Tanis, the truest friend I could ever have,” Jael said, reaching for Tanis’s hand—the hand
without
the bracelet. “He came all the way from Allanmere with me. Tanis, this is Farryn, my father.”

Farryn nodded gravely to Tanis.

“Your loyalty and courage in bringing Jaellyn so far safely do you honor,” he said. “Have you been made comfortable?”

Tanis squeezed Jael’s hand.

“We’ve been made to feel like prisoners, since you ask,” he said pointedly. “A poor welcome after coming so far.”

“You are not prisoners.” Farryn met Tanis’s gaze directly, his own gaze troubled. “What you were was strangers afflicted with a dangerous disease.”

“And now?” Tanis challenged.

“What you are now has not been decided,” Farryn said evenly. “No one has ever come to us uninvited, and no one has ever been invited.”

“Didn’t you come here uninvited?” Jael asked pointedly. “You and all your people.”

Farryn nodded.

“That is true,” he admitted. “And that was a difficult time for my folk and those who accepted us here. We were years learning to be one people again. So you must be a little patient with a folk as slow to change as the stone they build upon.”

Stone. Jael glanced at the pendant around Farryn’s neck and fought off the urge to reach for the one that no longer hung on her own chest. She pointed to Farryn’s pendant.

“I had one of those,” she said. “It made me—whole. Why was it taken away from me?”

Farryn’s brows drew down, and he glanced at Tanis, then turned back to Jael.

“There are matters we must discuss,” he said. “But I cannot discuss them in front of one not of our kind. Walk with me, and my mate Lidaya will take your friend—Tanis—to our home and give him food, and we will join him there later.”

Mate. A small surge of resentment flared, then died in Jael’s heart. Why shouldn’t Farryn have a mate, other children? It had been twenty years and more since he’d spent a single night with her mother. Donya had taken a husband only a few days later, albeit of political necessity; certainly there was no reason that Farryn should have pined away lonely on the other side of the world!

Still, she didn’t like the idea of leaving Tanis. Tanis, however, squeezed her hand again and then released it.

“I’ll be fine,” he said comfortingly. “And it’s right that you should talk to your—to Farryn alone. Besides, this way I can have my dinner without waiting for you.” He grinned.

Farryn held out his six-fingered hand, his eyes on Jael’s. Jael hesitated, then took his hand. She could not tell which hand, hers or his, was shaking.

Farryn led her to the door flap and raised the leather sheet. Tanis had said there were guards outside, but there were none now, only a leather-clad woman with a stony expression on her face. She scrutinized Jael rather coldly.

“Jaellyn, I make known to you my mate, Lidaya,” Farryn said. “Lidaya, I make known to you”—he hesitated, glancing at Jael—”my firstborn daughter, Jaellyn.”

Lidaya’s eyes narrowed, and her mouth drew into a tight line.

“I greet you, daughter of my mate,” she said shortly, but before Jael could reply, she turned away and ducked through the door flap.

Jael sighed. It wasn’t the first time she’d managed to offend someone without saying a word or doing a thing. It seemed that here, as well as in Allanmere, she was an inconvenient person to have around.

Farryn gazed after Lidaya for a moment, then shook his head and sighed.

“Pay her no mind,” he said. “We’ve been mates for almost three hands of years. It’s hard for her to learn only now that another woman had a place in my heart, for however short a time, and that that woman and not she bore my firstborn.”

Despite the awkward situation, Jael could understand Lidaya’s discomfort. The discovery of Jael’s mixed blood had given her mother a good shock, too, and Jael suspected that despite his easy and unconditional love for her, Argent had been a little shaken by the realization that his firstborn daughter had actually been sired by another man.

“She spoke my language,” Jael realized. “Just as you do. How did you manage that?”

Farryn smiled.

“When I met your mother, I was given a wonderful magical device that let me speak to her and her companions. I brought this device away with me when I returned to my people, and I have it still. When we received word from the plains folk that you were arriving, and who you were, I took the device to our Enlightened Ones. They drank the magic from the device and so learned your language, then used their magic to teach that language to myself, Lidaya, and our children. It was only honorable, to assure you could speak with your own kinfolk.”

Jael shook her head wonderingly and looked around her. The stone building they’d just come from was as dome-shaped on the outside as it was inside, although the outside was bare of the deep carvings Jael had seen within. The building appeared to grow up out of the stone of the mountain itself, as did numerous similar structures clustered about with surprisingly little distance between them. The paths between the buildings were stone, too, worn smooth by long usage. Because of the thick cluster of buildings, Jael could see nothing but gray stone and sky, and she shivered with more than the chill of the air.

Farryn noticed her shivering and removed the fur cloak he was wearing, draping it around her shoulders.

“Forgive me,” he said a little stiffly. “I forget that you are used to warmer lands.”

“It’s not bad,” Jael said, although the thick cloak felt deli-ciously warm. She turned back to Farryn. “You never answered my question. Why was the pendant taken from me? And our weapons?”

Farryn glanced around quickly, as if afraid of being overheard, and laid his hand on Jael’s shoulder, drawing her down one of the paths.

“Your weapons were taken because of your disease,” he said. “The Unformed Ones know how to use weapons, and none of us wanted you armed until we were certain that the Enlightened Ones had cured you completely. With one entirely of our blood, it would never have been in doubt, but—” He glanced at Jael uncomfortably and shrugged. “Your weapons will be returned now that you are well. There were many questions asked when the Enlightened Ones saw you bearing a sword and dagger made by our folk. Among our clans you’d not be permitted to carry them until you’d proven yourself in battle. I recognized the blades, though, as the sword your mother had wielded so bravely and the dagger I gave to the strange and courageous Shadow so many years ago. I told the Enlightened Ones you’d never have been given the blades, nor yet managed to reach us, if you were unworthy.”

Jael said nothing, but another coal of anger fanned into flame in her heart. Unworthy! She’d traveled across half the world, dealt with highwaymen, shifters, dragons, mages, and enchanted forests, and they dared to think she might be
unworthy
to carry one of their precious blades? Grimly she forced her anger down. The Kresh knew nothing of what she’d gone through to find them. Getting angry at Farryn wouldn’t do any good, anyway.

Farryn had fallen silent, and Jael turned to see him gazing at her rather sadly.

“You’ve said nothing of your mother,” he said at last. “How has Donya fared?”

“My grandfather, Sharl, died while she was in the swamp,” Jael said. “Mother became High Lady as soon as she returned, and married Argent almost immediately.”

“Argent—” Farryn frowned. “Ah, the tall elf who collected the plants.” He sighed. “Is she happy?”

Jael raised her eyebrows.

“With Argent? Yes. As High Lady of Allanmere, she’s miserable, of course.”

“Of course.” Farryn smiled a little. “I can hardly imagine her in robes instead of armor.”