The Shapechangers (14 page)

Carillon drew a quick breath of dismay but she paid it no heed. She held Shaine’s eyes with her own and felt the power in the man. She began to wonder, deep within her soul, if she had not her own measure of it.

“You are Cheysuli,” the Mujhar said harshly. “You are subject to death…like all of them.”

“You would have me slain, then?”

“Cheysuli are under penalty of death.”

Carillon moved closer to her. “What Lindir did was long ago, and best forgotten. You cast Alix away once. Do not do it again.”

“You have no place in this, Carillon!” Shaine lashed. “Take yourself from this hall.”

“No.”

“Do as I bid.”

“No, my lord.”

Shaine glared at him, hands knotting on his gold belt. “The Cheysuli took you prisoner and set a wolf on you. This girl is one of them. How can you defy me like this?”

“Alix is my cousin, my lord. Bloodkin. I will not see her treated so, even by you.”

The Mujhar’s breath hissed through his teeth as he stepped wrathfully from the dais. He stood before the empty firepit running the length of the hall.

“You do not speak to
me
so! I am your liege lord, Carillon, and I have made you my heir. Am I to believe the shapechangers have used sorcery on you, to win you to their side? Must I disinherit you?”

Alix looked sharply at Carillon and saw his face go bloodless, jaw clenched as tightly as Shaine’s.

“You may do as you will, my lord, but it seems futile to disinherit the only possible heir to Homana’s throne. Did you not live through too many empty years in hopes of getting one before?”

“Carillon!”

“You have made me your heir,” he said steadily. “But it does not take my humanity from me.”

“Get yourself from this hall!”

Alix stepped forward. “So you may deal with me alone? So you may have me taken from this place and slain on the altar of your pride?”

Shaine’s face blanched white. “
You
do not speak freely in this hall, shapechanger witch! You will do as I bid you!”

Alix opened her mouth to answer but a sudden chiming tone within her mind banished the words. Stunned, she stared blindly at the Mujhar. Cai’s gentle tone wove its familiar pattern in her mind.

I am here
, liren.
Should the man grow too full of himself, we shall show him something; you and I.

Cai!
she cried silently.

I am here for you
, liren.
This petty lord cannot harm you.

Alix began to smile. “Cai.”

Carillon stiffened. “Alix, what do you say?”

She ignored him. She looked steadily at the Mujhar and spoke softly, with renewed confidence. A sense of power and resolve was growing within her.

“My lord, you rule here through the sufferance of the Cheysuli. You owe them more than you will admit.”

“I will drive them from this land!” he roared, face congesting. “They are demons! Sorcerers! Servitors of the dark gods…no better than the Ihlini. I will see they are destroyed!”

“And you will destroy the very heart of Homana!” she shouted. “Foolish man—you do not deserve to be king of an honorable land!”

He raised his hand to her, stepping forward. Alix, unflinching, stood before him, but before the blow could fall she felt a flaring of power within her mind. It reached out, seeking, and the magnificent hawk answered it.

The velvet arras hanging at a narrow casement rippled and billowed aside as the
lir
winged into the hall. His passage set the candles guttering, throwing eerie shadows against the stone walls. Many of the tapers winked out, plunging the hall into flickering relief. Wall sconces flared and smoked as his wingspan flurried them.

Shaine turned as he felt the beat in the wind. His raised hand fell to his side as he stared speechlessly at the hawk. A garbled sound broke from his throat as Cai whipped a slash of air across his face.

The bird of prey circled the lofty hammer-beamed hall gracefully; eloquently powerful. Alix felt a welling of pride so sharp it hurt. As she watched him she began to understand the magic of her blood, and to understand what it was to be Cheysuli.

They have not lied…
she whispered silently.
They have said the truth—that it is better to be part of an accursed race with a god-gift in the blood, than to be a
lir
less Homanan.

Cai circled and flew toward them again, dark eyes brightened by the flames of the sconces and candleracks. He slowed, stalling with broad wings, and settled himself upon the back of the throne. He mantled once, then perched in perfect silence on the dark lion throne of Homana.

There
, liren;
have we made the man take notice?

Alix laughed joyously within her mind, welcoming her god-gift, and felt the hawk’s approval.

Shaine stumbled away from her, but neither did he go near the
throne with its hawk headpiece. The Mujhar’s hand raised and pointed at the bird.

“Is this your doing? Do you summon the familiars of demons?”

“He is a
lir
, my lord,” she said evenly. “Surely you recall them. Hale had one, did he not?”

“Go from here!” Shaine cried hoarsely. “Leave this place! I will not suffer a Cheysuli within Homana-Mujhar!”

“Willingly, my lord grandsire,” she said clearly. “Nor will I suffer a foolishly vain man longer than I must.”

His face contorted. “Leave this place before I have my guard take you!”

Alix was so angry she ached with it. She turned her rigid back on the Mujhar and walked to the open doors at the end of the hall. There she swung around once more.

“I see now why Lindir took her leave of you, my lord. I only wonder she did not do it sooner.”

Alix went unaccosted into the darkness of the cobbled bailey courtyard. As she picked up her skirts to hasten toward the tall gates she heard the clash of gold and gems at her girdle and realized she fled with some of the Mujhar’s riches. Then she hardened her heart and determined to keep them, if only to have a legacy of her mother. She had no coin; the gems would serve.

Alix glanced over her shoulder apprehensively, expecting to be followed. From all accounts Shaine was too vain to let such an affront to his pride go unremarked; if she did not win free of Homana-Mujhar quickly she might soon taste the hospitality of his dungeons. When she turned back, hitching her skirts higher, she saw a shadow detach itself from the wall and come at her.

She stumbled back in alarm as the looming figure caught her. Before she could cry out a hand fastened firmly over her mouth.

“Be silent!” hissed a whisper.

By the gods, Shaine will have me slain!
She struggled against the hard body, fighting the guardsman with all her strength. The hand clenched against her jaw painfully, restraining her teeth as she sought to bite. Her free hand clawed for his face and missed, dragging across a bare arm and stopping against the warmth of embossed metal.

Alix froze.

“
Now
will you be still?” the man asked. He removed his hand from her mouth.

“Duncan.
Duncan!
”

He shook her, hissing at her vehemently. “Be silent! Will you give us both away?”

“This is
Homana-Mujhar
! Shaine will have you slain!”

“Only if he learns I am here,” Duncan said grimly. “But that should not be difficult if you persist in shouting.”

“I am not shouting,” she said sullenly, lowering her voice.

He dragged her toward the wall, ignoring her protests. When they reached the shadows he set her against the cold stone and stood before her, blocking out the torchlight from the palace.

“Have you learned what you wanted?” he demanded, not bothering to hide his anger. “Have you seen what it is to be Cheysuli in Shaine’s presence?”

She could not make out his features in the darkness, but his odd violence told her what he felt. “Duncan, it was a thing I had to do.”

He sighed, still gripping her arms. “You are no better than Lindir. The Mujhar’s get are willful women.”

“Why are you here?” she whispered, peering at his shadowed face.
“Here?
”

“I will give you answers later. First we must leave this place. I have horses waiting outside the walls.”

Alix planted her feet as he sought to lead her toward a small wooden gate hidden in shrubbery. She felt his startled hesitation and nearly laughed. But she did not let him see her amusement.

“Duncan, I told you to let me be when Carillon came for me. Why have you come?”

He shifted slightly. Faint torchlight illuminated his face and showed her an odd glint in his yellow eyes. He smiled coldly.

“You said I must do as my brother to stop you. I let you go then. I will not do it again.”

“Let me be!”

“You are Cheysuli,” he said flatly. “You have a place with your clan.”

“I
refuse
it!”

His hands clamped on her arms, hurting her. He ignored her wince of pain. “Alix, you will have us found if you persist. What sense is it to have us both slain in the name of Shaine’s purge?”

“If you do not explain yourself I will shout for the guardsmen. I am surprised they have not found you already, if they are so skilled.”

He laughed softly. “The Cheysuli move in silence, small one.” He paused significantly. “Except, perhaps, for you.”

She glared at him. A strange sense of defiance and exhilaration crept into her heart and nearly consumed her. She smiled at him in vindictive joy and opened her mouth as if to cry out.

Duncan silenced her instantly. This time he did not use his
hand. Alix, shocked to the core, felt herself caught in a harsh embrace and kissed as if he would take the soul from her.

She stiffened instantly, pressing palms against his chest to push him away. In that moment she realized the absolute strength of a determined man and was amazed by it. She sought to escape but was trapped within his arms.

Alix shuddered once, recalling Finn’s harshness and the instinctive fear he had provoked. Then, oddly, the thought fell away.

A new awareness slid through her as Duncan’s mouth moved on hers. It was imperceptive, yet she felt it, and he no longer forced her. The pain he had inflicted at first was gone, altering in some subtle fashion. When a second shiver coursed through her it was of another origin.

Duncan is not his brother
, she thought dazedly,
and I do not fear this man…

Alix felt the wall at her back as he lifted his mouth from hers. An odd expression of inner conflict moved through his pale eyes, tautening his face into blankness. Alix, wanting only to see the possessive determination in him again, touched his chin.

“Is this your
tahlmorra
?” she asked breathlessly. “Is this why?”

The tight line of his mouth relaxed. “Perhaps it will not be so long a time to wait after all.”

“Duncan…I do not understand.”

“I have come to you as Finn, forcing myself on a woman who does not wish it,” he said grimly. “Have I earned the enmity you promised?”

“I have forgot what I said.”

His lips twitched. “Forgot? You?”

Alix turned her head away, realizing she still clung to him. Her wantonness made her ashamed, but when she tried to slide away he kept her pressed against the wall.

“Alix, you have only to listen to what is in you. Heed it. I will not force you again.” Duncan moved away from her, releasing her to stand in solitude against the wall. Alix sensed impatience in him and the slow rising of an odd anxiety and urgency in herself.

By the gods, what has this man done to me? Why do I want him by me?
She closed her eyes.
It is
Carillon
I want, not this Cheysuli warrior I have known so brief a time.

“Alix,” he said gently, “I am sorry. You are too young to understand.”

Her eyes opened. The torchlight from the palace painted his
shoulders and glinted off the gold on his arms. Suddenly she wanted the warmth of him against her again.

“Duncan, I think no woman is too young to understand.”

He blinked in surprise. Then he laughed silently and relaxed visibly. His hand slid around her neck and caught in the braids coiled against her head, cradling her against his chest. He murmured something in the Old Tongue, and Alix wished she spoke it.

Hastening footsteps echoed across the bailey, scraping on the cobbles. “Alix!” Carillon cried.

Duncan cursed and jerked around. His hand slipped to the knife at his belt.

“No!” Alix cried, grasping at his hand.

“Alix!” Carillon shouted again.

“Here,” she answered, and heard Duncan’s swift indrawn breath.

The prince found them in the darkness. For a moment he stiffened as he saw Duncan, but he made no hostile movement. His mouth was a grim line as he looked at Alix.

“You have driven the Mujhar into a rage. He swears he will have the hawk hunted and slain, and you exiled upon the Crystal Isle. Imprisoned.” He sighed. “Alix, I have spoken with him. It does no good. I will take you to Torrin’s croft.”

“She comes with me, Homanan,” Duncan said ominously.

“Does she?” Carillon snapped. “Do you speak for her, shapechanger?”

“You have no place in this,” Duncan answered. “She is not for you.”

Alix moved between them. “Carillon, something happened to me in the hall. Something…came to life in me. When the Mujhar called me witch and cursed me for my blood, I felt no shame. I felt no horror; no fear. I felt only anger that a man could hate so powerfully, and do so much harm to a race. It was as if the Cheysuli in me finally came to life.” She touched his arm beseechingly. “I want no more of this place.”

“I have said I will take you to Torrin. When I can, I will come to you.”

She shook her head slowly. “I think—I think what is between us must stay unknown, or unnamed.” She pressed his arm. “Do you know what I say?”

“No,” he said, so harshly she knew he did.

“The Cheysuli are not your enemy,” Alix said softly. “It is the Solindish, and the Ihlini. Turn your anger on them. Do not let Shaine’s madness infect you also. You said once you would
accept me whatever I was. Now I ask you to accept the others of my race.”