Shadowlands (56 page)

“But will it work?”

“That I cannot tell you. It is made, made well, with the best elements I had to hand. It should work.” He paused here, fixed his eyes on Wolf and then on me, making sure we were both looking back at him. “But those elements, however good, were not many. The Horn is less stable, more fragile than it would have been had we many parts to draw upon.” He looked back at it, then nodded his head firmly. “It will work, but I would not depend upon it to work more than once.”

“If we only have once…” I turned to Wolf. “Does this mean we should give it to Cassandra?”

He had his eyes fixed on the artifact. “It is what we have,” he said finally. “We will make it work for us.”

That wasn’t exactly an answer, but I figured we had some time yet to talk it over.

Ice Tor folded the black felt over the Horn, bringing in the edges like an envelope. He pulled a hair out of the tangle on his head and tied the package closed before presenting it to us. I looked at Wolf, but he shook his head.

“You carry it, Valory. You keep it safe.”

It wasn’t until after I’d tucked it into my shirt that I realized I’d picked up the Horn with my left hand.

“If we’re going,” I said to Wolf, “can you make me another flask of chicken soup? And give me a half hour or so to digest it. I wasn’t prepared before, but this time there’s no reason for me to Ride on an empty stomach.” With luck, I had enough Gravol left to help me keep the soup down.

Wolf brought the flask out again, but slowly, and all the while with
a puzzled look on his face. He paused with his hand on the stopper. “The flask is ready to provide more broth,” he said. “But why not wait until we are back in the Shadowlands, and you can eat anything you like?”

“But that’s going to be a while, isn’t it? I mean, even though we know the way now, it’ll still take us at least as long to get back to the Quartz Ring and…” He was shaking his head, smiling. It wasn’t that easy to make him smile. I wondered what I’d said.

“We only Rode here because I did not know the place, and could not Move here. Now we have only to take the Cloud Horses where they would like to be, and I can Move us directly to the Portal, and then through to your home. The sooner we bring the Horn, the better.”

Ice Tor escorted us back to the meadow where the Cloud Horses waited, patiently cropping grass. Because of the nature of the space Ice Tor inhabited—or created, we still didn’t know which—Wolf didn’t want to Move from where we were, and the Dwarf took us all the way back to the rocky hilltop where the boulders were. It was still night there, the full moon making a bright spot behind the clouds.

“Farewell, Stormwolf, son of Rain at Sunset. May the Chimera guide you well. Farewell, Valory Truthreader. Come and tell me of the outcome, if you live.”

And with those ominous words, we were alone again.

Instantly, I broke out into a sweat, and the world spun to the left before wobbling back to the right. Wolf took my elbow and guided my hands to the pommel of the saddle. As if the touch of something familiar steadied me, or maybe it was the nearness of the Cloud Horse, my head cleared and my stomach settled.

Shallow breaths,
I told myself. It had all seemed so easy. Persuading Moon and Wolf back at the Royal York—that felt so far away. I glanced at my left hand and quickly looked away. Nothing seemed easy now.

Wolf was staring off into the distance, shaking his head in short, shallow arcs. The thin sloe-black braid he’d pulled loose to give to Ice Tor moved back and forth. I almost reached out to tuck it back into place, but let my hand fall without touching him.

“We’re not going to the High Prince, are we?”

“Valory, this is my chance—it may be my only one—to make my brother listen to me. If I give the Horn to another, they will not see this as I do.” I patted Wolf on the shoulder as he continued to speak. I heard his deep voice, and could almost feel it in my bones, but I didn’t make out any more words. Cassandra had warned me that human drugs wouldn’t work as well in the Lands, and it looked as if the Gravol was beginning to lose its effectiveness.

“Wolf.” I’m pretty sure I interrupted him, but at that point I didn’t much care. “It’s okay. I’m with you.”

I think he spoke to the Cloud Horses and got some kind of answer before he boosted me up into my saddle. He said something about a short delay, and I think I nodded, but I can’t be sure. In a moment he was in the saddle himself, and put out his hand for me to take. It was his left hand, I saw, and somehow, seeing his missing finger, and the way he paid it no attention at all, made me feel a little better. Our hands touched. [I saw the Basilisk Prince, a Sunward Rider dressed in magenta] and then CRACK! my ears were popping and we were outside the hostel once more. I managed to get down from the Cloud Horse on my own without falling, and held it together long enough for Wolf to run them into their stable. He was back out so quickly I wasn’t sure whether he’d taken the time to remove their saddles, but to be honest, I was too far gone to ask.

“Asleep again,” Wolf said, holding out his hands. Again, I took hold of his wrists and WHOOSH! I was on my hands and knees and Wolf was arguing with someone over my head.

“You know me, Cloud of Witness,” Wolf was saying. “I must get this human girl back to the Shadowlands before her illness kills her. If this was something one of us could Heal, it would have been done already.” I couldn’t hear the response, but I could guess it from what Wolf said next. “Of course the High Prince knows about this journey. Do you think I act without her knowledge and permission?”

Riders aren’t so different from human beings after all. I saw that these guys weren’t going to question Wolf’s authority, even though they probably thought they should.

The next thing I knew I was being lifted to my feet and Wolf was walking me forward, murmuring under his breath to brace myself. The Gravol seemed to have worn off completely and, frankly, if he’d
told me at this point that he was about to walk me off a cliff, I would have nodded and kept on walking. Somebody said once that people didn’t die from seasickness, they only wished they could. That was the state I’d reached.

Again, the blackness, the feeling that my breath was being squeezed from my lungs, and we were someplace very hot [Mexico City, what happened to Toronto?], then I was on a cold terrazzo floor, and people were helping me to my feet [
he
was going to propose to his girlfriend tonight;
she
had a winning lottery ticket in a jacket pocket at home], and Wolf was saying. “My friend slipped. I am sure she is well now. Thank you.”

All I knew was that the world was level again, without even the wobbly edges that I’d had at Ice Tor’s place. I was home. And starving. Fortunately, there was a convenience store right there on the departure level, and I made Wolf stop while I grabbed myself a chocolate bar and a Diet Coke.

“That does not smell like food,” he said, nose wrinkling as he leaned closer to me. “Nor drink, for that matter.”

“And I’m sure it would kill me eventually, if this was all I ever ate, but for now, I’m just getting a bit of an energy boost. Then we’ll see what you have in your fridge.”

There were too many people on the concourse for us to risk Moving from there, but Union Station has a lot of back corridors and deserted alcoves, and it didn’t take Wolf long to find us one empty enough that he could Move us into his apartment. We’d learned from the last time that it wasn’t a good idea to walk across the street when we didn’t have to.

The place was exactly as I remembered it. The temperature just cool enough for comfort, the air lightly scented with saffron. The drapes and blinds were open, but the sheers were drawn, giving the otherwise unlit room a quiet, misty feel. I could see the red message light blinking on the phone, and I moved toward it. As I did so, my mobile began to vibrate and rang twice.

“You’ve got a message,” I said, as I pulled my mobile out. Seven missed calls. One from Alejandro, six from Nik.

“It is unlikely to be for me.” Wolf was at my side looking down at the blinking light.

I put down my mobile, lifted the receiver with my right hand, and
pressed the message button. I disturbed a sheet of notepaper as I did. “Valory, call Nik,” it said. I put my finger on it. Nik had been here with Alejandro. They’d Moved. I handed the note to Wolf just as the message played back.

“Dr. Kennaby,” the voice said. “Sorry to disturb you, this is Jonathan down at the front desk. You must have seen the damage to the hall outside your door—and well, the door itself. The lock still works, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. The carpenters will return to finish on Monday. It looks as though someone tried to break in, and when they couldn’t, they set fire to the hallway.” The voice hesitated and then continued. “I’m afraid the police would like to speak with you when you have a moment.”

Wolf was already heading for the door, the note from Nik still in his hand. The door swung open without any difficulty. There had obviously been a clean-up attempt, but anyone would have known something was wrong. The table that had stood outside the door was gone, and a whole section of the green, red, and gold carpet had been replaced, but they hadn’t been able to do much with the wood trim around the door. There was a still faint smell of scorched wood, as well as something much less pleasant. I looked at Wolf, but he was studying the hallway, brow furrowed, nostrils flared. His almond skin paled to bone, the scars around his eye standing out, and his eyes moved to my face. He looked as though he had something to say, but was afraid to say it.

I lifted my shoulders and let them drop again. I took a step out into the hall and deliberately put my hand on the doorframe.

My knees buckled as the sounds, the smells, washed through me. I could dimly feel Wolf’s hands, his arms around me, holding me up. But over it, like a cold, slick fog, lay Nighthawk’s despair. Fox’s triumphant feeding. I clapped my hand over my mouth and turned my face into Wolf’s chest, thinking maybe I should sit down, thinking that if I were going to faint, I could at least do it from closer to the floor. My stomach was sorry I’d eaten the chocolate bar. Tears ran down my face onto my hands. Maybe I hadn’t known Hawk for very long, but I’d touched him. I knew things about him even his mother didn’t know.

And it could have been Alejandro. I don’t think I really understood
until that moment that these long-lived, inhuman People could actually die.

Finally, Wolf’s baked-cinnamon smell grew stronger than the blood and the smoke. I straightened, got my hands up between us. The way I felt, I knew that if I didn’t push him away right then, I might never be able to do it.

“It is as I fear. Tell me.”

I cleared my throat, wiped my eyes with my
right
hand as I straightened my back and raised my chin. “A Rider—Nighthawk.” My voice trembled on his name, but I needed, and he deserved, that I say it out loud. “Hawk was killed here.” I indicated the floor we stood on. I’d meant to tell him everything, but in the last minute I couldn’t do it. “A Hound,” was all I said.

Wolf looked at me then, his pale gray eyes boring into mine. I wasn’t going to say I knew who the Hound had been, not unless he asked me outright. He lowered his eyes again, and I saw that he didn’t have to.

“And Graycloud? Alejandro?”

I was touched that Wolf’s next thought had been of the person who was most important to me. Though it wasn’t much of a stretch to figure out how he’d gone from thinking of Fox to Alejandro.

“Wasn’t here,” I said. “He’s still okay.” I wrapped my arms around myself.

“Nighthawk’s
dra’aj
?” Wolf asked then, but his voice was just a whisper.

At first I didn’t know what he was getting at, but then I did and my heart sank. “He took it.” I coughed to open my throat a little so I could say it. “Fox took it.”

Wolf swallowed, but he didn’t look away. “Nighthawk is Faded. I will have to tell the High Prince. They are of the same
fara’ip
.” The muscles of his face had firmed up again, and his voice was stronger. “You are certain it was Fox.” It wasn’t a question. He’d known from the scents before I ever touched anything.

“I can’t be wrong.”

He nodded. By the look on his face, I was guessing Wolf had already turned his thoughts away from the hall, trying to think of something else. He gestured, and I walked back into the apartment
ahead of him. I’d only taken two steps into the entry when I realized Wolf wasn’t right behind me. I turned to find him still at the opening, frowning. I went back to see what he was looking at.

“What is it?”

“I cannot enter.” He was frowning, his black brows drawn down. “I do not understand. The Binding I put on the room, the door, it should not keep
me
out as well.” He raised his eyes to mine. “For you to enter, and for me not—this is beyond my experience.”

“But you
were
in.” I turned away from him, looked around without moving, but nothing appeared out of the ordinary. All the furniture was in the same place it had been when I last saw it. Then I had an idea, and I ran my hands over the walls near the door.

“This is your doing, all right,” I said. “When you Sang, something changed in the walls.” I bit off a laugh that felt as painful as it sounded. “Looks like you were a bit too general in your Binding. Riders who have been here before can Move into the apartment, but Riders—and I’d guess any others of the People—can’t just walk in.” I looked back at him and tried to smile. “So the only Riders who can come in, are the ones who have been here already. One of us.”

Wolf looked past me into the apartment, then down the hall toward the elevators. I saw that the note from Nik was sticking out of his jeans pocket. “We must go.”

“Take me home,” I said. Suddenly I needed to see Alejandro.

Wolf Moved us to the backyard, and it seemed odd, somehow, to run up the steps of the deck to the back door, almost as though I’d been away for months. For the first time, however, I felt as though I was actually coming home. The house was so ordinary, so human, and the sight of the pieces of furniture that Alejandro had brought from Spain, and a pair of my shoes lying under the table in the sunroom where I’d kicked them off, were almost enough to make me cry.