Agnith's Promise: The Vildecaz Talents, Book 3 (9 page)

Erianthee made a gesture of frustration. “I think you’re right, and I would prefer not to be the agent of his confrontation with his son and his allies.”

“With good reason,” he said with strong feeling. “Who knows how the matter will end?” He paused, considering the implications of what he’d said. “I probably shouldn’t have come here. I’m exposing you to more scrutiny, and not from those with your interests at heart. Bontaj! I hate the thought of you having to fend off the Emperor’s foes, even as Spirits of the Outer Air.”

“I wish there were some way I could convince Riast to send me home, with you, not Hajmindor Elet as my escort. I’ve had enough of his overbearing manner, and I mistrust his motives.”

“More than you mistrust mine?”

“How can you ask me that?” She could feel tears on her face. For once, she didn’t care if Kloveon, or anyone else saw. “I wish the Emperor would believe me when I tell him that the Shadowshow he wants is beyond my talent to perform. I wish the conjure-storm had never happened.”

He took her clenched hands and kissed them. “I know.” He stared down into her eyes. “You’ve done a lot already, Erianthee, more than his Court magicians are willing to do. If Riast were being reasonable, he’d do just as you want. But he’s been overwhelmed and isn’t quite rational just now – none of us is.”

She saw the anguish in his eyes and it stunned her, for in all the time she had known him, he had never revealed so much of himself to her without the trappings of gallantry and raillery. “Kloveon . . . “ She was going to offer to declare him her official suitor, but felt the words stick in her throat, so she tried again. “I don’t know if either of us is safe any more, but so long as I have any protection I can extend to you, it’s yours to claim.” That was as close as she dared come to accepting him into her life, for as much as she longed for his company, they were both under scrutiny and any close alliance would not be well-regarded in the Court of Riast II.

“I thank you, Erianthee, and I pledge I will act upon your offer only if it is utterly necessary. Your help is courageous but I don’t want to expose you to more difficulties than you have now.” His next words – whatever they might have been – were stopped as she rose on her knees and kissed him suddenly. He responded by gathering her into his arms and rising out of the chair until they clung together with only each other for support. Their kiss went on and on, more than simple need, but less than full passion. It was as if they both had come upon unexpected depths in the other. His hand moved up her body to encircle her breast, and he felt her nipple stiffen under the
short bodice of her gaunel. His own excitement intensified, and for a little while, the only thing that commanded his attention was her mouth on his, and the way in which her body molded to his.

When the finally broke apart, they were breathless. Erianthee leaned against Kloveon, murmuring something about being giddy; he almost laughed. “Giddy? I’m . . . I’m intoxicated.”

Erianthee grinned in spite of her worries. “I hadn’t understood. I thought you were coming to me for the convenience of my presence, but it isn’t like that at all, is it?”

“No,” he said. “Convenience is the least of it.”

“For both of us,” she said softly. “If I knew what was going on – “

“Between us, do you mean?” He took a long, deep breath. “I never thought I’d be so – “

”Deluged with emotions?” she suggested.

“To start with. But there’s more.” He found it difficult to release his hold of her. “I think we need to sit down again.”

“Yes,” she agreed, her happiness beginning to well within her. “Come into the other room. We can be private there.”

“In your bedroom?” His apprehension was more because of the potential for physical distraction than any questions of courtesy.

“Not even the Emperor will interrupt us if the door is closed.” She smiled at him, her brown eyes luminous.

“Then we’d be wise to close the door,” he said, and took her hand as she led the way into her bedroom.

“If you want to sit in a chair, there are three to choose from. I’ll take one of those you don’t.” She glanced at the bed and the package which had contained her new clothes set out on it. “I think it would be pushing matters for either of us to sit there, don’t you?”

“True enough. I wouldn’t vouch for my keeping my hands off you if we were on the bed, no matter how noble my intentions,” he said, and chose the broadest, most comfortable chair. “We can both sit in it.” To demonstrate, he sank into the cushions, and patted the space beside him.

“Perhaps in half an hour,” she said, pulling up a high-backed, damask-upholstered chair. She sat down, leaning forward so that she could continue to hold his hand.

He sighed. “You’re probably right,” he allowed.

“I know. I, too, would rather share the bed. It would be such a delight, and comfort just now. And it could be illuminating.” She turned an imploring gaze on him. “If we weren’t in so much danger, I’d want to give into our desires. But that could be more risky still.”

“I can’t argue with you,” he conceded. “But I’m looking forward to the time when we can.”

“I am, as well.” She looked up sharply as if struck by a sudden insight. “How much have you told Riast? When you spoke to me, before the conjure-storm, you said many things that might be useful now.”

“About Bozidar, you mean?” He considered the question. “I have spoken with the Emperor twice since then, and I’ve said as much as I think I can support through the experience of others, which isn’t a great deal. I’ve tried to avoid speculation.”

“And what has Riast said?”

“Only that his magicians don’t concur about Bozidar’s role in all this. Some say he is part of it, some say he has been made a scapegoat by the real traitors.”

Erianthee scowled. “And what do you think?”

“I don’t know,” he said miserably. “One day it seems that Bozidar is the culprit, another day it seems that he is nothing more than a tool, and still on another day, his apparent allies are Bozidar’s tools.”

“But you’re not part of any of it?” There was an edge to this question and she made no apology for it.

“No. No, of course not,” he said impatiently. “I’ve stumbled into this by some kind of accident, and I’m still stumbling.” This admission made him uncomfortable.

“Then something must be done,” said Erianthee, and her hold on his hand tightened.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked, anxiety mixing with hope as he gazed into her face.

“Well,” said Erianthee, speaking more briskly than before. “I think I’ll tell the Emperor that I’ve decided to try to do a prophetic Shadowshow for him, but I’ll have a number of conditions to impose, including ten days to prepare. I might not be able to command the Spirits of the Outer Air to prophesy, but I think I can keep you from being implicated in whatever is going on, and that’s more important than prediction.” Unless, she added unhappily to herself, Kloveon really is part of the conspiracy, in which case, I may reveal him as a traitor. She released his hand. “I’m going to change, so I’ll greet Riast properly. If you want to wait in my dressing-room, the Emperor need never know you’re here.”

Although Kloveon was startled by the abrupt change in Erianthee, he rose and bent over to kiss her again – much more lightly this time, but still with passion – and said, “I shouldn’t want you to do this, but I thank you from the limits of my veins.”

“I hope you will feel the same way when the Shadowshow is done,” she told him even as she waved him away toward the dressing-room, her mind already preoccupied with framing an explanation for her change of mind that she could offer the Emperor.

This time Ninianee was a wallow-moj – albeit a small one – her shoulders and back bristling with short, dark hairs, her blocky body strong and dense, her long snout ending in a flexible, short trunk flanked by two down-turning, business-like tusks. She gouged the wood of the hut with her three-toed hooves, and she managed to break the table and some crockery as well as send the ponies and mules in the adjoining barn into semi-hysterics with her carrying on. Finally, after gobbling half the sack of new grain for the animals, she fell heavily asleep on the dampest part of the stable’s floor and snored loudly until just before dawn when she returned to human shape. Catching sight of Doms Guyon as he stirred up the fire in the central stove, she stared at him, abashed at what she had done that she couldn’t remember.

“Don’t worry,” he said, coming to drop her sajah over her naked body. “Your rampage was a small one. Tomorrow night you won’t be so rambunctious. I’ll help you back to the room as soon as you’re ready.”

“Do you think anyone saw me?” She hated to ask, but feared not knowing more than having unwelcome knowledge.

“Most people stay away from wallow-mojes,” he said wryly.

“Just as well,” she mumbled, huddling into her sajah. “By Nyolach, the Unexpected, I’m sore.” She rubbed her shoulders, then her neck. “I hope I didn’t – “

”Nothing that isn’t standard behavior for a wallow-moj indoors, as far as I can determine. You broke the grooms’ table and attacked one of the chairs, but nothing too drastic, as you can see.” He indicated the small stack of broken bits of table and a few sections of a fractured water-ewer.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Doms, I’m so sorry.” To her chagrin, she was becoming distraught. “I didn’t mean to do any of this.”

“I know that, and you needn’t apologize. I would imagine that the wallow-moj is frightened and angry, being contained in so small a place as this stable,” he said calmly. “And they’re naturally bad-tempered,” filled in Ninianee, not expecting any pardon, but rather intending to explain how it had come about.

“That, too,” he said, still showing no signs of disgust. “But, you know, I’m kind of grateful for this Change – it gives me some idea of what you’re capable of doing.”

“Don’t say that,” she beseeched him. “You can’t mean it.”

“But I do, and in no way that discredits you, so you don’t have to read anything into what I tell you that’s to your detriment,” he told her with only a slight hint of upset in his words. “Since I’m your Official Suitor, I should learn as much as I can about your Changing, for both our sakes, as I’m apt to see a fair number of them.”

She couldn’t keep from saying, “What makes you think that experiencing a wallow-moj improves your suitorship?”

Doms grinned at her. “If you’d been a large jeneie-fox, all I would have had to do is keep you from hiding in the nearest river, but a wallow-moj, even a small one, now that needs some planning and accommodation. You can’t ignore a wallow-moj. At least you weren’t a drouch.”

“I might have been,” she reminded him. “I may be, some day.”

“Then that’s for later,” said Doms, and went to bring her a cup of nut-milk. “Drink this. I got it from one of the scullions about ten minutes ago. It'll make you stronger. That wallow-moj took a lot out of you last night, I can see it in your eyes. You must be famished.”

“Thank the Six Founder Gods and Goddesses, we weren’t in any larger place than this, or even one so small as Lagee,” she said, thinking of the small village where they had been two nights before. “I don’t like to think how far the word would spread about me, and how it would be embellished, had I Changed in either place.”

“That’s important,” he said a bit obliquely as he tended the increasing fire. “But, Ninianee, surely you don’t think you can go on without ever dealing with your Change in the presence of strangers. No matter how well you plan, what happened at Chogrun’s Court will happen again, and you and I will have to be ready to deal with it. You would do well do glory in your Change, not shrink from it.” He paused and looked toward her. “As long as you do this – as long as you hide your Changing – your talent will not be an asset to you, but a detriment, and what could be your greatest strength will remain a weakness. It would break my heart to see you become less than all you are. I hope you don’t intend to remain ashamed of your Changing for the rest of your life.”

“Would it trouble you? That I continue to conceal my Changing?” She asked this very softly.

“Yes, because it troubles you,” he answered at once. “There has to be some way to make your transformation an advantage.”

She wanted to weep, but kept her tears at bay – this was not the time to give
vent to flailing emotions. “You’re being wonderful about the Change, but it can’t have been any fun for you, having to share this small space with a wallow-moj, let alone deal with the animals and grooms.”

“The ponies and mules didn’t like it. They set up quite a racket, whinnying and braying and kicking. The grooms stayed in their quarters with a flask of eayon-brandy for company, and if they noticed anything, they’ll credit it to drunkenness. For me, I found it . . . intriguing. Perhaps tonight when you Change, you can let me know what the wallow-moj is feeling. You should have more comprehension tonight, shouldn’t you?”

“I assume so,” she said quietly. “At least I should be able to be more aware of myself during the Change.”

“Then let’s plan to make an effort to determine what the wallow-moj represents, or why you have taken on that form this time. It may be random, but I suspect there’s more to it than blind chance.”

“If there is a pattern to my Changes, I’ve yet to detect it,” she said, shoving herself onto her knees.