The Shapechangers (6 page)

“What
is
this prophecy you prate of?” she asked, irritable. “Finn speaks of little else.”

“That is not for me to say. The
shar tahl
will speak with you when it is the proper time.” He shrugged, lifting his spread-fingered palm.
“Tahlmorra.”

Alix looked at him in the flickering shadows of the slate-colored pavilion. He was alien to her, part of the vague dreams she had dreamed over the years, growing up knowing the Cheysuli were accursed and outlawed and sentenced to death by the Mujhar. But she knew he did not lie to her, for all she wished to believe it. There was no deceit in his eyes.

“If what you tell me is true, there is one more thing,” she said hollowly. “You are my brother, like Finn.”

Duncan smiled. “No. Finn and I share a
jehana
, but Hale was to me what the Homanans call foster-father. My
jehan
died when I was very young.”

She smoothed the weave of her skirts. “I do not entirely understand. You said Hale took Lindir away and got a child on her. Me.” The word was dry in her mouth. “But if he was father to Finn, and foster-father to you…I do not understand.”

“Hale was liege man to Shaine. It is a Cheysuli thing; hereditary service to the Mujhars and their blood. Until the purge, the Mujhars of Homana ever had a Cheysuli liege man.” Duncan smiled faintly. “Hale spent most of his time at Homana-Mujhar, serving his lord, according to custom. Lindir was a golden child who took great joy in teasing her
jehan’s
fierce liege man; it was a game to her. Then she was no longer a child, and Hale was no longer indifferent to the promise of her beauty. She had fulfilled that promise.” He saw Alix’s shocked face and laughed softly. “The Homanans hide their
meijhas
and call them light women. The Cheysuli keep
cheysulas
and
meijhas
—wives and mistresses—and honor them both.”

“But Hale
left
your mother!”

“He did what he wished. That is understood among us. Men and women have the freedom to take whom they choose, when they choose.” He grimaced. “Though now we have few warriors, and fewer women.”

Alix swallowed with effort. “I would rather be Homanan.”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “But you are half Cheysuli. In our clan, that is counted whole.”

But her mind had gone past that, grasping the slippery strands of comprehension. She put the relationships together until she had an understanding of them. Then she looked at Duncan.

“Lindir bore a daughter and Shaine lost the heir he wanted.”

“Aye,” he agreed.

“So he turned to his brother, Fergus, who had a son.”

“Aye.”

Alix took a shaking breath. “He made that son—his nephew—heir. Prince of Homana.”

Duncan watched her closely. “Aye.”

She felt her heart begin to hurt. “Then Carillon is my
cousin!
”

“Aye,” Duncan said softly, understanding.

Alix drew up her knees and clasped her arms around them tightly. She pressed her forehead against them and squeezed her eyes shut in denial and realization.

Before I was only a croft-girl, but one who put him at ease. Now I am Cheysuli—shapechanger!—accursed, and his bastard cousin.
Grief surged into her throat.
He will never come to me again!

She hugged her knees and keened silently in the shapechanger’s tent.

Alix, at dawn, sat warmly wrapped in a brown blanket, numbly aware she had slept in the shapechanger’s presence. She had not meant to. She vaguely recalled her silent tears and his urging her to sleep, but no more. Now she sat alone in his pavilion, bereft of the heritage she had known all her life.

The doorflap stirred and Alix glanced up, expecting Duncan. Instead she saw Carillon and stood up with a cry, letting the blanket slide to the ground.

Then she froze. His eyes were withdrawn from her, strange, and she saw none of the warm welcome she had come to expect.

They have told him…

Alix’s arms dropped to her sides. Desolation swept in to fill her soul. She would not look into his face and see his rejection of her.

“Alix…”

“You need say nothing, my lord,” she said remotely. “I understand how a prince must feel to learn the croft-girl he has kept company with is a shapechanger.”

He moved into the pavilion. “Are you so certain they have the right of it?”

Her head jerked up. “Then you do not believe them?”

He smiled. “Do you think I am so easily manipulated, Alix? I think they lie to you. There is nothing Cheysuli about you. Your hair is brown, not black, and your eyes amber. Not beast-yellow.”

Carillon let her melt against his chest, sobbing quietly. Her fears of suggesting an intimacy she was not due faded away as she sought solace in his strength. His arms slipped around her and held her close, for the first time since they had met.

“You will come with me when I am released,” he said into her tangled hair. “They cannot keep you.”

She lifted her face. “Duncan has said I must stay.”

“I will take you back with me.”

“How do you know they will let
you
go?”

He smiled wryly. “I am worth too much to my uncle for them to keep me long.”

“And I?”

“You, Alix?”

She wet her lips. “If I am what they say, then I am the Mujhar’s granddaughter. Lindir’s daughter.”

“So you will admit to shapechanger blood if only to get royal blood as well,” he said, amused.

Alix pulled away from him. “No! I only seek acknowledgment…the truth! Carillon, if I am Shaine’s granddaughter—will he not free me from this place?”

“Do you think the Mujhar will acknowledge a half-shapechanger bastard granddaughter?”

She recoiled from the cruel question. “Carillon—”

“You must accustom yourself. If what the shapechangers say is true, we are cousins. But Shaine will never claim you. He will never offer a single coin for your return.” Carillon shook his head. “They are harsh words, I know, but I cannot let you expect something you cannot have.”

She set cold hands against her face. “Then you will leave me here.…”

He caught her arms, pulling her hands from her face. “I will not leave you here! I will take you to Homana-Mujhar, but I cannot say what your reception will be.”

“You would not have to tell him who I am.”

“Do I say you are my light woman, then? A valley-girl I have been seeing?” He sighed as he saw her expression. “Alix, what else would I tell him?”

“The truth.”

“And have him order you slain?”

“He would
not
!”

His hands tightened on her arms. “The Mujhar has declared the Cheysuli accursed, outlawed, subject to death by anyone’s
hands, Do you think he will gainsay his own purge for the daughter of the man who stole
his
daughter?”

Alix jerked away from him. “She was not stolen! She went willingly! Duncan said—” she broke off abruptly, horrified.

Carillon sighed heavily. “So, you accept their words. With so little a fight, Alix, do you deny your Homanan blood and turn to the shapechangers?”

“No!”

You are Cheysuli
, liren, came the hawk’s golden tone.
Do not deny yourself the truth. Remain.

Alix ripped the doorflap aside and stared into the sky. Cai drifted far above, floating on a summer breeze.

“I must go!” she cried.

This is your place
, liren.

“No!”.

“Alix!” Carillon moved to her and grabbed her arm. “To whom do you speak?”

Homana-Mujhar is not for you
, the bird said softly.

“I cannot stay,” she insisted, amazed at her willingness to speak to a bird. “I cannot!”

“Alix!” Carillon exclaimed.

She gestured wildly. “The bird! The hawk! There.”

He dropped her arms instantly, staring at her in alarm. Slowly his eyes went to the graceful hawk.

“Let me go with Carillon,” she pleaded, knowing only that the bird sought to keep her.

I cannot gainsay you
, liren.
I can only ask.

Alix tore her eyes from the hawk and looked beseechingly at Carillon. Frantically she reached out to catch her hands in his black leather doublet.

“Take me with you. Tell the Mujhar whatever you choose, but do not make me stay in this place!”

“You understand what the
bird
says?”

“In my head. A voice.” She could sense his shock and sought to convince him. “Not words. A tone…I can understand what he thinks.”

“
Alix…
”

“You said you would take me,” she whispered.

He put out a hand to point at Cai, ruby signet flashing. “You converse with
animals!
”

Alix closed her eyes, releasing him. “Then you
will
leave me.”

“Shapechanger sorcery…” he said slowly.

She looked at him, judging his face and the feelings reflected there. Then his hands grasped her shoulders so hard it hurt.

“You are no different,” he said. “You are still Alix. I look at you and see a strong, proud woman whose soul is near to destroyed by these shapechanger words. Alix, I will still have you by me.”

You are meant for another
, the hawk said gently.
The prince is not for you. Stay.

“By all the gods,” she whispered, staring blindly at Carillon, “will none of you let me be?”

“Alix!”

But she tore herself from him and ran from them both, seeking escape in the forest.

She fled to a lush grassy glade lying in a splash of sunlight. There Alix sank to her knees and sat stunned, trying to regain control of her disordered mind. She shook convulsively.

Shapechanger! Spawn of a shapechanger demon and a king’s daughter!
she cried within her soul.

Alix scrubbed at her stinging eyes with the heels of her hands, fighting back tears. She had never been one for crying, but the tension and fear of the past hours had taken away her natural reserve. She wanted security and solace like a child seeking comfort at a mother’s breast.

Mother!
she cried.
Was I birthed by a Homanan valley girl, or a haughty, defiant princess?

Alix felt the conflict in her soul. She longed for Carillon’s confidence in her Homanan origins, yet felt the seductive tug of mystery attending the legendary magic of the Cheysuli. And though Torrin had raised her to be fair to all men in her thoughts, even the Cheysuli, he had also instilled in her the apprehension all felt concerning the race.

She heard a rustle in the leaves and glanced up swiftly, frightened Finn had followed her again. She did not entirely trust his intentions, for all he claimed to be her half-brother. Alix sensed something elemental in him; untamed and demanding.

A hawk rested lightly on a swinging branch, feathers ruffling in the breeze. Though its coloring was the same, she realized it was not Cai. This hawk was smaller, more streamlined; a swift hunting hawk able to plummet after small prey and snatch it up instantly.

Alix shivered involuntarily as she thought of the deadly talons curving around the branch.

Have you decided to stay?
it asked.

She stared at it, astonished to discover the great distinction between its tone and Cai’s. It regarded her from bright eyes, unmoving on the branch.

Do you stay?
it asked again.
Or do you go?

Resentful and defiant, Alix started to push the tone away. She would not allow the Cheysuli so to manipulate her mind. She would keep herself apart from them and their sorcery, regardless of the seductiveness of their power.

But even as she decided she felt the fear slip away, replaced by wonder. First she had spoken with a wolf, who seemed perfectly capable of speaking back; then Cai. And now this smaller hawk.

By the gods, the animals are mine to converse with!
She took a trembling breath.
If this is sorcery, it cannot be demon-sent. It is a true gift.

The hawk regarded her approvingly.
Already you begin to learn. The
lir-
bond is truly magic, but does harm to no one. And you are special, for no other can converse with all the
lir.
Through you, perhaps, we can win back some of our blood-pride and esteem.

“You lost it through Hale’s selfish action!” she retorted, then winced at her audacity. Carefully she looked at the hawk to see if it was offended.

It seemed amused.
For the Cheysuli, aye, it would have been better had he never set eyes on Lindir. But then you would not live.

“And what am I?” she shot back. “Merely a woman a foolish warrior wanted for his own.”

Finn does, occasionally, allow his emotions to overrule his judgment. But it makes him what he is.

“A beast,” she grumbled, picking a stem from the grass.

He is a man. Beasts have more wisdom, better sense and far better manners. Do not liken him to what he cannot emulate.

Alix, startled by the hawk’s wry words, laughed up at him delightedly. “I am sorry he cannot hear you, bird. Perhaps he would reconsider his rash actions.”

Finn reconsiders very little.

She stared at the bird, eyes narrowing shrewdly. The stem she had picked drooped in her fingers. “If you are not Cai, who are you? Show yourself.”

Another time, perhaps
, the bird said obliquely.
But know I am one who cares.

It detached itself from the swinging branch and flew into the blue sky.

Alix dropped the stem and stared after the fleet bird dispiritedly. For a moment she had felt an uprush of awe and amazement that she conversed with the
lir
; now she was a frightened and confused girl. Slowly she got to her feet and wandered back to the Cheysuli encampment.

She was startled to find the tents pulled down and rolled into compact bundles. The warriors tied them onto their horses and made certain the fire cairns were broken up and scattered, Alix stood in the center of the naked clearing and realized her soul and self-image had been as neatly swept clean.

Carillon came to her as she stared blindly at the swift alteration of the camp. He touched her hand, then folded it into his much larger one.