Masques (20 page)

“Edom was older than he looked, and more than a minor servant if he worked the runes that were on the bodies,” commented Wolf calmly, having recovered most of his usual control. “Carrying and hiding a souleater from me is not much easier. Don’t make the same mistake that the ae’Magi is: He is not invincible.”

“You think that we have a chance against the ae’Magi?” Myr’s tone was doubtful.

“No, but we can bother him for longer than he thinks that we can,” said Aralorn briskly. “Now, children, I think that it is time for us to go to sleep. Don’t forget that we have the sanitary facilities to dig in the morning. Wolf, if you don’t mind, I think that everyone would be a little more comfortable if I sleep in your camp rather than the tent I’ve been sharing.”
Me, too,
she thought,
I’ll be much happier here.
“Let them meet their shapeshifter in the light of day.”

SIX

Somewhere in the darkness, a nighthawk cried out in defeat, and the mouse escaped for another night. Aralorn sympathized with the mouse, as she knew exactly how it felt.

Edom’s remains had been gone when she’d arrived back at Wolf’s camp with her belongings. Nothing remained of the blackened body except a slight scorched smell, as if someone had left the stew on the fire too long. She supposed that Wolf had disposed of the body somewhere; she hadn’t been inclined to ask.

Now that the excitement was over, it was time to rest, but she couldn’t do it. When she closed her eyes, she could all but feel the not-quite-cold metal cutting her and tearing at more than the flesh of her thigh. Every time she managed to doze off, she had nightmares about arriving too late to help Wolf or the sword’s bite cutting all the way to her soul and leaving her bleeding to death from a wound that no bandage could stem.

As she lay awake in the chill air of early morning, the blankets she used seemed too thin to protect her from the cold and damp. She pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them in an effort to get warm, but even that didn’t seem to help. She shivered convulsively and knew that some of it was due to fear rather than the night air.

She sat up and rested her forehead on her knees. She closed her eyes, but that didn’t stop the jumbled images from presenting themselves to her.

If she hadn’t decided to find out what was bothering Sheen, or Edom had been just a little swifter in his work, Wolf would be dead. Not only would that have meant the end of any chance of defeating the ae’Magi, but she would have lost her enigmatic companion. Some part of her was amused that of the two results, it was the second that bothered her the most. Ren would not approve.

She was so intent on her thoughts that she didn’t notice that Wolf had gotten up until he sat down beside her.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly.

She started to nod, then abruptly shook her head—without lifting it from her knees. “No. I am not all right. If I were all right, I would be asleep.” As she spoke, still without looking up, she scooted nearer to him, until she was leaning against his shoulder.

There was a pause, and then he slid an arm around her shoulder. “What’s wrong, Lady?”

He was so warm. She shrugged.

“Is there something I can do?”

She let go of her legs and snuggled closer until she was almost sitting in his lap. “You’re already doing it, thanks. I’m sorry. Just jittery after the fight.”

“I don’t mind.” He sat still, holding her almost awkwardly—but his warmth seeped in and alleviated the cold that blankets hadn’t been able to dispel.

Aralorn relaxed but felt no pressing need to move away. “I must be turning into one of those women who moan and wail at the first chance they get—just so a handsome man will take them into his arms.” Yes, she was flirting. It didn’t seem to bother him.

“Hmm,” he said, apparently considering what she had said. “Is that why they do it? I have always wondered.”

“Yup,” she said wisely, noticing that he wasn’t holding her as stiffly. As if he wasn’t used to someone so close. She’d snuggled down with the wolf sometimes—although rarely. He seldom invited touch. “Then,” Aralorn continued, keeping it light, “she has her way with him, and he has to marry her. It’s nice to know that I haven’t fallen to that level . . . yet.”

“So that’s not why you’re here?” He seemed intrigued rather than unhappy, she decided.

She paused, then said, “I was just getting a little chilled and thought to myself, ‘Aralorn, what is the easiest way to get warm?’ ‘Well,’ I said, ‘the fire is nice, but moving requires
so
much effort.’ ‘Ah yes,’ I answered, ‘why didn’t I think of it before? There is all of that heat going to waste on the other side of the fire.’ All it took was a few broad hints, and, presto, you’re here: instant heat with very little effort upon my part.”

“Yes,” he said, tightening his grip and releasing it a moment later. “I can see how that works. Nicely underhanded of you.”

She nodded happily: The tension caused by the nightmare dissipated with the familiar banter. “I thought so, too. It’s Ren’s fault—he teaches us how to be sneaky.” She yawned sleepily, closing her eyes. “Oh, I meant to ask—who is keeping watch on the camp?”

“Myr took care of it,” he answered her. “The ae’Magi won’t have planned two attacks in the same evening, and he won’t find out about Edom’s failure until he doesn’t report. Magical communication isn’t all that it could be in these mountains.”

“Report.” She sat up a little straighter. “Wolf, if Edom was his creature, the ae’Magi knows where we are. Are you sure Edom wasn’t acting on his own?” It was unlikely, but it was possible.

“Edom belonged to the ae’Magi,” Wolf answered. “I recognized the sword. As far as the ae’Magi knowing where we are . . . Aralorn, there are only so many places we could hide from the ae’Magi. Eventually, he’ll find us, whether or not Edom had a chance to tell him.” He shrugged. “If it helps any, I would have noticed anything Edom could do magically to communicate. He’d have had to use mundane means.”

It did make her feel better. Her temporary alertness faded into exhaustion. As she wiggled into the generous warmth of him, she decided that Wolf was more comfortable to sleep on when he was wearing human shape; he smelled better, too.

Wolf waited until she was asleep before he set her back down on her blankets. He added his blankets to hers and tucked them carefully around her. He brushed a hand against her cheek. “Sleep, Lady.” He hesitated, but she was truly asleep. “My Lady,” he whispered.

He shifted into his wolf shape and stretched out beside her and stared into the night. Being human so much made him nervous after all the time he’d spent as a wolf. The wolf would have heard Edom coming.

The wolf wouldn’t have felt so awkward taking what she’d given him.

As she had expected, Aralorn was alone when she woke up. Wolf’s longest absences were the result of a display of affection on his part, as if it was something with which he was not comfortable or, in light of what she’d been learning about him, felt he didn’t deserve.

To her surprise, her reception at camp was cordial. She collected a few wary looks, and that was all. Mostly, she thought, Myr was keeping them too busy sewing and digging to worry about her one way or another.

If the adults showed little reaction, the children were fascinated by the shapechanger in their midst. They wanted to know if she could change into a rock (no) or a bird (they liked the goose, but would have preferred an eagle or, better yet, a vulture), and if shapeshifters really had to drink blood once a year, and . . . She was grateful when Wolf came to get her. For once she was tired of telling stories.

“I hope,” she said, as they reached the caves, “that they don’t believe half of what I tell them.”

“They probably don’t,” Wolf replied. “Your problem is that they will believe the wrong half.”

She laughed and ducked into the opening in the limestone wall.

When they reached the library, she noticed that her notes had been scattered around. One of the pages that she had been writing on the previous day was conspicuously situated in the space where Wolf worked. Looking closer at it she saw that it was the one that she’d been using to jot down the stories she’d found in the last book she’d read the day before. She never had gotten around to telling Wolf about the apprentice’s spell that negated magic.

Wolf took up the paper and read her closely written scribblings with interest—or maybe, she thought guiltily, her handwriting was bad enough it required his whole attention. Aralorn straightened the rest of her papers, then glanced around the library. What kind of a breeze could pull a sheet of paper out from under the books that were still neatly stacked where she had left them? If she hadn’t been here with Wolf, she’d have been worried; as it was, she was merely curious.

“I assume that if the apprentice who developed a way to negate magic were given a name, you would have told me.” Wolf set down the paper.

She nodded. “I don’t remember ever seeing that story before, so it can’t be very well-known.”

Wolf tapped the paper impatiently with a finger. “I
have
read that story somewhere else, a long time ago. I know that the one that I read gave his name. I just need to remember which book I read it in.” Wolf stood silently a minute before shaking his head in disgust. “Let’s work on this mess”—he waved his hand vaguely at the bookcases—“and hopefully I will remember later.”

They sat in their respective chairs and read. Aralorn waded through three rather boring histories before she found anything of note. As she was reading the last page of the history of the Zorantra family (who were known for developing a second-rate wine) the spine of the poorly preserved book gave way.

While inspecting the damage, she noticed that the back cover consisted of two pieces of leather that were carefully stitched together to hide a small space inside—just big enough for the folded pages it contained. Slipping the sheets out of their resting place, she examined them cautiously.