Deepwood: Karavans # 2 (35 page)

RHUAN FELT THE rage rise up in his soul. The voice he knew at once, and its arrogant tone; it was not required that he see the man to recognize him. But the man did step out out of the shadows, clear for all to see, and Rhuan looked for the first time
in several human years upon the man who was his sire.

Audrun was on her feet, clearly startled. Rhuan remained seated with his back against the downed tree, trying with great difficulty to ignore the impulse to rise. Alario would expect it, would expect some form of acknowledgment and deference, and Rhuan refused to give it.

“Audrun, sit down.” He tried to keep the anger from his voice. Anger would please Alario.

She looked down at him, face still blank with surprise, then slowly seated herself on the log once again. “Are we in danger, Rhuan?”

“Oh, indeed, always,” Alario said. His smile was edged. “Surely Rhuan has explained to you what I am.”

“In fact, I have not,” Rhuan said before Audrun could answer. “You mean so little to me that it never crossed my mind.”

“Ah, but I mean enough to you that you choose to turn your back on all that I could give you, on all that you could be, as Alario’s get.”

Rhuan laughed. “Because I want none of it. None of you.”

“Stop,”
Audrun said. She looked from one to the other. No fear was evident in her expression or posture, no concern of any kind, except for annoyance. “Very well. I take it you are kin. I take it as well that you are neither of you particularly friendly with one another. I may be only a ’little human,’ but this I have
seen before. Therefore I say to you both: explain matters. Plainly. You will not use me to cut at one another.”

Rhuan, taken aback, blinked and closed the mouth he’d opened to respond.

Alario’s laughter was startled, but also long and loud.

A
UDRUN LOOKED FROM Rhuan to the man who appeared to be his father. Certainly there was a strong resemblence in coloring, in the arrangement of their features, and of course in the elaborate braid patterns and beading, had she not undone Rhuan’s. But the father was, she realized—and not unexpectedly—taller, broader, heavier, and clearly more mature. He strode out of the shadows and into the light of double suns with a powerful elegance that eclipsed what she remembered of Rhuan’s uninjured movements. That this man was in his prime was beyond obvious; he carried with him supreme self-confidence, such a strong sense of condescension and casual superiority that she disliked him at once. She blamed Rhuan not at all for the bitterness she’d heard in his tone.

“So,” she said to the man, taking the offensive before he could, “since Rhuan has not made the introductions, as you seemed to expect—though I don’t know
why you should—perhaps you will tell me who you are, and why I should care?”

The bigger man raised an eyebrow, and made the motion seem more eloquent than ten words assembled into a sentence. “I am Alario. Primary of Alisanos. A
god
, little human; and yes, there is indeed power I manipulate to suit my needs, as my get has pointed out, even to suit my whims, which is something he abhors.”

“Your get?” Audrun echoed, incredulous. “You make him sound like a puppy!”

“And so he is.” Alario, clad in rich, russet hide tunic and leggings, with wide, gold-bossed and -buckled belt and glints of beads in his braids, seemed almost to glow with vitality. Casually, he leaned his spine against a tree and folded his arms across his chest. “He hasn’t yet proved himself to be anything else. And I doubt he will.”

“Why are you here?” Rhuan asked, as yet still seated on the ground with every appearance of insousiance.

When Alario smiled, no dimples appeared. Rhuan’s, Audrun realized, must have come from his mother. “I am here,” Alario said, “because it was brought to my attention that
you
were here, where you should not be. Failed already, have you? Given up on the journey—”

Now Rhuan stood, thrusting himself upward with a hand on the downed trunk. “I have not. Neither of those. I am here because Alisanos saw fit to go active—”

“He came to help us,” Audrun put in. “He tried to direct us away, and was trapped himself.”

“Were you? Trapped?” Alario grinned. “Have you explained to her that you could walk out of Alisanos at any time?”

Audrun looked at Rhuan sharply. “Can you?”

“I can,” he affirmed, “but not with you, nor with any of your family. And I choose not to do so just now, journey or no journey, until all of your kin are safe.”

“What journey?” she asked.

But before he could answer, Alario spoke over him. “I see, too, that you have gotten yourself married in the meantime.” He looked curiously at Audrun. “Was taking down his braids his idea, or yours?”

“I’m already married,” Audrun declared coolly. “I have not married Rhuan.”

“Where is your husband?”

It pinched. She lifted her chin, allowing no weakness to show even briefly, because she knew it would amuse him even as it gave him a weapon. “I don’t know. He may be here in Alisanos, or in what you call the human world.”

“Then he is unable to keep this match from going forward.” Alario locked eyes with Rhuan. “In Alisanos, what exists in the human world means less than nothing. In Alisanos, you took down his braids. In Alisanos, you have in essence married him already. But we do like ceremony at the Kiba. Thus, you’ll marry him again before the primaries. You have no choice.”

“I have every choice,” Audrun replied evenly, refusing to let him bait her. “I will speak at your Kiba and explain to all of your fellow gods that I took down his braids with no notion of what it means in Alisanos. It was done in ignorance as I tended his scalp wounds. There was no intent on my part to make any kind of arrangement between us.”

“But the arrangement is made. It cannot be unmade.”

“Why not?”

“Because we the primaries have no wish to have it unmade.”

“How do you know what the other primaries want?” Audrun countered. “One thousand altogether, I understand. Can you swear that the other nine hundred and ninety-nine will agree with you? I think not. I think when I explain matters, few will stand by you. Not all nine hundred and ninety-nine can be as arrogant as you.”

“Actually,” Rhuan murmured, “they can.”

She ignored him, speaking only to Alario. “I think you personally will only maintain that the ‘arrangement’ must remain in place because you know it will prove an annoyance to Rhuan. I think if he were anyone else, you wouldn’t care in the least. And if the other nine hundred and ninety-nine
are
as arrogant as you, then I shall deal with all of you.”

“You?” One eyebrow rose again. “
You
shall deal with us? And how will you do so?”

“As children,” she declared. “How else? I’ve seen
such behavior before … in spoiled children. I think it will prove no more difficult than dealing with arrogant bullies, gods or no.”

Rhuan laughed softly. “I’ll place a wager on that!”

Alario was far less amused. Audrun saw a flicker of red in his eyes, a faint deepening of the pale coppery hue of his skin. Power purled off him like fog. “Little human—”

She cut him off. “Actually, I’m not. I’m somewhere in the middle, when it comes to the height of human women.
My
name is Audrun, and while I am not a primary, I am a wife and mother. I am a child of the Mother of Moons, and a woman of Sancorra. I have been brought to the deepwood very much against my will, and I shall not accept that I am helpless, inferior, and at your mercy.”

Alario deserted his pose against the tree and stood upright. His posture was alert, prepared, and quietly intimidating. “You will not?” He tilted his head a little, as if evaluating her from a different angle. “But you should. You very much are helpless, inferior, and at my mercy. And as my get will tell you, I am entirely ruthless.”

“He doesn’t need to tell me; I can see that for myself. Ruthless or not, the fact remains that you cannot force me to marry simply because you wish to.”

“I don’t have to,” he said, amused. “You’ve done it yourself.”

Audrun was unfazed. “And now, shall we return to the question of whether you are a god?”

“I
am
a god.”

“Because you say so?” Audrun scoffed. “Any number of people may call themselves gods. It doesn’t mean they are.”

Rhuan sounded uneasy. “Audrun—”

She thrust a silencing hand into the air, never taking her eyes from Alario’s. “I will settle this, here and now. I wish to see proof. Have you proof to offer me, primary?”

He walked directly to her, stationing himself to throw her into the shadow of his person and power. “And what would you consider proof, little human?”

Audrun stood her ground, meeting him eye to eye despite the disparity in their heights. “You will, this moment, find my husband, my children. You will retrieve my youngest—just an infant in clouts—from a winged demon who stole her from us even as he set fire to the dreya ring that sheltered us. Then you will transport all of us to the Kiba, where I will explain how I came to take Rhuan’s braids down, and
then
you will send all of us safely home to our own world, unchanged in any way.”

Both brows lifted. “All of that?”

“Every bit of it.”

Alario grinned. She marked again the absence of dimples; the absence, also, of honest amusement. His was ice and edges. “No.”

“Because you can’t.”

“Oh, I can.”

“If you could, you would.”

Alario burst out laughing. “So predictable, Human Audrun. That argument might be effective in your world, but here it carries no weight. I have nothing to prove. Ask my get. He will tell you.” The grin remained as his eyes flicked to Rhuan. “Do tell her, won’t you?”

“Show me,” Audrun demanded. “You. Here and now.”

But she had lost Alario’s attention. He focused now on his son and changed the subject. “Your journey is ended. All that’s left now is for the primaries to make it official, and discuss the timing of your disposition.”

Rhuan shook his head. “You may see it that way. But you are one vote. As Audrun has mentioned, there are nine hundred and ninety-nine others to be cast—and you have your share of enemies.”

Alario stepped away from Audrun and closer to Rhuan. He stood before him, staring at him, and Audrun felt the trickle of pure, unalloyed power in his wake. His voice, however, was very soft. “You are not fit. Not fit to be
dioscuri
, not fit to be my heir.”

“Perhaps that’s best,” Rhuan replied, “as I have no desire whatsoever to
be
your heir.”

“I should have had you exposed at birth.”

“And what then would you have done—abducted another human woman to bear your dying seed?” Rhuan shook his head. “The others would never have allowed it. Only one
dioscuri
has been born to you in hundreds of years. That speaks poorly of your potency, as I have no doubt your enemies realize. Surely word is
being passed from one to another that Alario has a fatal weakness. I am very probably the last
dioscuri
you’ll sire. You need me to retain your place among the other primaries.” Rhuan’s smile was thin and edged. “After all, Karadath has Brodhi. Without me in the stewpot, the seasoning you provide is weak. Your brother’s will be stronger, and he may ascend to your place because of it. That, you could not bear.”

Alario began to circle Rhuan, holding his eyes as he did so, until Rhuan had to break off because he could twist his neck only so far. Alario halted in front of him again. He leaned in, sniffed briefly, then withdrew, smiling. “You are weak. The weak are culled by the strong.” Without warning, he caught hold of the hair tied at the back of Rhuan’s neck and the neck itself, forcing Rhuan’s head into a taut, uncomfortable position. Alario bared teeth in a threat display no less effective because he lacked fangs. His voice was pitched low, very nearly a whisper. “Other primaries may well indeed be my enemies,
but you they will never support
.”