Protector of the Flight (27 page)

“Salutations,”
he said. “But I don’t have time to talk to you.”

We
will guard Calli while you discuss the danger with the Marshalls.

He
had a sudden feeling that they knew what was wrong. “Do you know who her enemy
is?”

The
feycoocus exchanged a look.
No. We were not here today, and yesterday we
were watching you and Calli, adding our Power to the ritual.

Marrec
wanted to ask why, but from the way they held themselves, he didn’t think
they’d say.

May
we come in?

More
interest rose in him. He stared down at them. “You have to be invited in?”

They
clicked their beaks in irritation.
Yes.

“You
promise no harm to Calli will ever come from you?”

We
promise,
the male said.
I am Tuckerinal. You may call on me for help at any time.

Marrec
raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?”

So.

He
had to remember that this one was an Exotique feycoocu, come to Lladrana with
Marian. The notion made his mind spin. He opened the door and stood back.
“Welcome.”

Thank
you.
Eyes bright, the female walked in first.

Marrec
closed the door after them.

She
flew to a chair back and perched.
My name is Sinafinal. You may call on me
at need.

He’d
just been given a great gift. He didn’t know how many people could call her by
name. Though he sensed interaction between Calli and Sinafinal, the memory didn’t
come clear and mention of the feycoocu’s name in Calli’s thoughts were blurred.

Only
the Exotiques and their mates know my name. Go now and tell the Marshalls of
the danger. We will watch,
Sinafinal said.

With
a deep bow to the magical beings and a lighter step, he left the suite and
locked it after him.

Though
the summer night was warm, sweat had chilled on his body by the time he reached
the Marshalls’ Council Room. This was the first time he’d ever speak to the
Marshalls by himself regarding his own concerns. The only person he knew
halfway well was Bastien.

Yesterday
morning he was a penniless Chevalier with only one volaran who had disappeared
with all the rest of the winged horses and could do so again. Today he was the
bondmate of an Exotique. At the door of the chamber he squared his shoulders,
strummed the doorharp.

“Enter,”
Swordmarshall Thealia Germaine ordered.

He
sucked in a deep breath and opened the door. The room was bright with two
miniature suns floating near the ceiling. Absently he wondered if he and Calli
had the Power for such light in their own quarters. They’d need their Power for
other matters.

“Sit.”
Thealia gestured to a chair.

He’d
rather stand, but that might make him look more like a servant. He slid into
one of the chairs with a sword engraved on the back.

Frowning,
Alexa shifted on a stack of pillows.

Silence
reigned. He kept his face the impassive mask he’d used for years. Then he met
Thealia’s eyes. “I just disabled a door trap.” He tossed the glove on the
table.

Alexa
jerked. “That’s mine!”

He
looked at her coolly. “I know. You wouldn’t harm her.” He glanced around the
rest of the table…all the old Marshalls and two pairs of new ones. “We have an
enemy within the Castle.”

Leaning
over the table, Alexa reached for the glove. Both Bastien’s and Marrec’s hand
covered her fingertips.

The
three of them
linked.
The next instant, all the rest of the Marshalls
seemed to crowd like shadows in the back of Marrec’s mind. Before he could
explain anything, they all
shared
his memories of the trap. He exhaled
raggedly.

Then
everyone withdrew. He sensed them communicating among themselves. Yet a small
trickle of notes ran between himself and Bastien and Alexa. He liked the feel
of their hands with his. Like they were family.

“Marwey
threw out the glove,” Alexa said. “I thought it had plenty of use left, but…”
She shrugged.

It
probably had another whole year’s use left before the leather split.

Bastien
snorted. “It’s very worn, Alexa, many of the embroidery stitches were wrecked.
The dyeing has dulled. It’s stained and wrinkled. Marwey was right to throw it
out.”

Marrec
lifted his hand from atop Bastien’s, met Alexa’s eyes.
She had been poor,
too.
Before she’d been Summoned to Lladrana, she had been even poorer than
Calli. Bastien, for all the prejudice against him for being a black-and-white,
for all that his father had despised him, still had owned a small, productive
estate.

“As
you say,” Alexa said. She withdrew her glove from under Bastien’s and Marrec’s
fingers. Holding one small edge between her thumb and forefinger, she lifted it
to her nose and sniffed. Her face scrunched as if she tried to sort different
smells, then she sneezed, shook her head as if to clear it. “Even scent has
been hidden. Nothing of this glove resonates of me or of any other person whom
I could identify. She wrinkled her nose. “It reeks of Power.” Scowling at the
thing, she let it drop. “Marian and Jaquar left for Alf Island as soon as the
Unbinding ritual was finished.”

Bastien
scooped up the glove, pressed it between his hands, engulfing it. A line dug
deep between his brows, then his shoulders dropped. “My wild magic finds
nothing either.” He set the glove down.

Marrec
cleared his throat. “The feycoocus are guarding Calli. If they’d sensed
anything important about the one who used this glove, they’d have told me.”

A
corner of Bastien’s mouth turned up. He winked at Marrec. “Welcome to the
club.”
Of those who are “honored” by Sinafinal and Tuckerinal,
he added
mentally.

Scowling,
Alexa took her old glove, smoothed out the scuffed fingers. Her eyes lit with
anger. “I don’t like being used.”

“We
will all need to watch our discards,” Thealia said, her mouth thinning.

“This
wasn’t the first trap,” Marrec said. He felt the heavy weight of their focus.
“I also wanted to ask if anyone noticed the lock of volaran hair tied with a
ribbon reeking of evil on the Choosing Table yesterday, and if anyone knew what
happened to it.”

Startled
surprise swirled around the room. The Marshalls’ instinctive team connection
snapped their defenses into place.

“Ttho,”
Thealia said a few seconds later.

“I
just mentally called Marwey,” Alexa said. “She oversaw the Choosing Table and
the tokens.”

“Please
explain,” asked Thealia’s husband.

Marrec
said, “Near the end of the ceremony, I noticed a lock of brown volaran hair on
the table nearest to the hallway door. Calli was drawn to it. She was too
drugged, or perhaps is too new to Lladrana, to sense the harm of it, but I
did.” He struggled with words. “The Song rising from the ribbon was…not right.
It felt like a trap.”

“What
kind of trap?”

“I
don’t know. I wasn’t in the best shape to observe.” He lifted and dropped a
shoulder, frowned. “I’m not sure what would have happened if she’d picked it
up, but I think it was dangerous.” He met Alexa’s eyes. “So did the feycoocus.”

“The
volarans are elated with the Song’s choice of Calli as the Chevalier Exotique,”
someone said. “She must not be harmed.”

Bastien
said, “More than that, they believe her to be Summoned for the
volaran
community. Thunder and Dark Lance have told them glowing stories of her. Her
actions in saving the horses have made a great impression. Every winged steed
in the Castle has ‘spoken’ to the horses about Calli. I
know
every
volaran wants Calli to fly with them.”

Marrec
nodded. “She’ll do that. I don’t think she could refuse any volaran request.
And she’ll want to get an idea of the different feel and flight patterns of the
volarans.” He looked around the group that fought together in rare teamwork.
“She will be able to gather and hold volaran minds in battle, communicate with
them, work with them as a focal point.”

Thealia
grunted. “I’ll make sure she takes lessons in strategy with me. You and she
must practice with us. Will the Pair of you want to test for Marshall?”

Alexa’s
gaze seemed to pierce him, as if she, herself, tested him right now.

“Ttho,”
Marrec said. “Calli knows her responsibilities to the Chevaliers, but she plans
to establish a volaran-partnering center and horse-training center. She wants a
normal family and children very much. We’ll adopt.” If they lived that long.

Even
as Alexa’s scrutiny relaxed, Thealia’s sharpened. “She must fight!”

Bastien
said, “Every Exotique has a specific task.” He put his hand on Alexa’s. “After
Calli has performed hers, we can discuss the future.” He cleared his throat.
“Does anyone have a glimmering of an idea as to what Calli’s task
is?
”

No
one answered, though a buzzing hummed in Marrec’s mind. The Marshalls
consulting among themselves, no doubt.

“Have
you spoken to Calli about this volaran lock and ribbon business?” Alexa said.

“Ttho.”

Her
eyes narrowed.

Marrec
lifted and dropped a shoulder. “She has endured much lately. She is nervous
about training, about fighting. I wanted to spare her.”

Alexa
nibbled her lip. “Just for now.”

The
doorharp cascaded with notes.

“Enter,”
said Thealia.

Marwey
walked in with a scroll and closed the door. She looked nervous.

“Marwey,
can you tell us about the tokens on the Choosing Table yesterday?” asked Alexa.
“Who offered a lock of brown volaran hair tied with a ribbon?”

Unrolling
the scroll, Marwey scanned it. “No volaran hair is listed.” In a stilted voice,
she said, “There were one hundred and twenty-two tokens. The smallest was a
ruby earring, the largest a helmet.” She waved the scroll. “Every person and every
token is accounted for, as well as the position of the token on the Choosing
Tables. I double-checked everything myself after all the objects were on the
tables and before Calli entered the room.”

Marrec
closed his eyes, searching his memory, delving through the haze of drugs and
sexual arousal that enveloped his recall. “It was on the last table toward the
east door.” He frowned. “Between a fancy, engraved silver spur and a pair of
black gloves.”

Moving
to the table to flatten out the scroll, Marwey scanned the drawing, matched the
number assigned to the token to the list at the top of the scroll. She looked
up, face paler than usual. “That’s where Faucon Creusse’s hat was.”

“But
Calli took the hat and other items that immediately called to her to the center
of the middle table,” Alexa said. “Faucon’s hat was one of the first she picked
up. So a space must have been left.”

“And
someone put the lock of volaran hair in that space,” Thealia said.

Bastien
said, “Perhaps the owner of the spur or the gloves noticed who put the volaran
lock on the table. I know if I’d attended the Choosing and Bonding ceremony for
Alexa, and placed a special token on the table, I’d have been watching it.”

“Throughout
the whole ritual?” asked Thealia.

“Perhaps
not all the time.” Bastien shrugged. “But everything on those tables was
special to someone. I’d check my token now and then, to make sure it was
there.”

“Who’s
the owner of the spur and the gloves and the other items around the space where
Faucon’s hat was?”

“The
hat was in the lower corner of the last table.” Marwey flushed a little. “I,
um, moved it from the center table, I wanted to give others a better chance. So
it was at the edge of the table. The gloves were
sent
to us by a young
sorceress who didn’t attend. The spur belongs to Tristan Sebold.”

“Tristan
flew to the alarm today, along with some of the younger Marshalls,” Bastien
said.

The
new Sword and Shield pair glanced at each other. The Sword said, “Sebold and
his volaran both died today.”

“Both?”
Thealia asked sharply.

“His
volaran foundered.” The Shield frowned. Shields were more able to note what was
going on during a battle than Swords. “I don’t know why.” She paled a little.
“One of those new flying dreeths that breathes flames got them.”

Nothing
would be left of the Pair.

The
Shield wet her lips. “Now that I think on it, those—” her voice broke “—those
particular deaths were like none I’ve ever seen in battle.”

Everyone
at the table looked as grim as Marrec felt.

Thealia
glanced at Marwey. “Please keep this confidential. You may tell your Pairling
only. He can tell no one. You may go.”

Marwey’s
eyes narrowed. She jerked a bow to Thealia, turned on her heel and left.