Red Hood's Revenge (26 page)

This was the real Arathea, deadly and beautiful and unforgiving, yet she paid it little mind. Faziya had grown even more skittish, shifting and squirming in Danielle’s lap. Talia kept remembering the way Faziya had shied from her touch, back in Rajil’s garden.

The thought crossed her mind that Rajil might have lied, giving her some other poor soul. Was that why Faziya didn’t recognize her? The real Faziya might still be trapped in Rajil’s mansion, or worse. Talia twisted the reins in her hand. Rajil was too much of a coward to lie. Not with Roudette’s jaws a hair’s breadth from her throat.

She slowed to a trot. “We need shelter. Rajil’s people will be tracking us. Lakhim’s too, probably. If the queen hasn’t learned of our presence by now, she will soon enough.”

Snow pulled her horse to a stop. “Where exactly are we going from here?”

“I hadn’t planned that far,” Talia admitted.

Danielle climbed down from her mare, then reached up to retrieve Faziya. “Let me see what I can find.”

Faziya darted away once again as Talia jumped from her own horse and stretched. She tried not to take Faziya’s fear personally. She failed, but she continued to try.

Dust coated her mouth and throat. She unpacked a waterskin from the saddlebag and took several long swallows before tossing it to Snow.

A ripping sound pulled her attention to Roudette, who was using her teeth to peel the wolfskin from her body. A long tear split the skin down the chest. Roudette growled and dug harder with her teeth, revealing a flash of red. Talia thought it was blood at first, before recognizing the other side of Roudette’s cape.

Fingers poked through the pads of one paw. Roudette raised the paw to her mouth, using her teeth to rip the skin back, and soon her hand and arm were free. She grabbed the tear beneath her chin and pulled upward. She pushed the head higher, and her own face appeared through the gap in the neck.

Roudette gasped, and with that breath, the wolf appeared to collapse, becoming nothing but a skin once more. Still panting, Roudette pushed herself to her knees and reversed the cape. She shook out the worst of the dust before tying it back over her shoulders.

“You’re going to melt in that thing,” Snow said, throwing her the waterskin.

“So I’ve noticed.” Roudette’s lips twisted in what could charitably be considered a smile. “If I’m not wearing it, we lose the benefit of its magic. Your fairy friends will be on us before you can cast a single spell.”

“Where did it come from?” Snow asked. “I’ve heard of animal skins enchanted to change the wearer’s form, but the other powers—”

“You can thank the church for that.” Roudette’s eyes flashed. “The elders insisted that all children wear the red cape.” She brushed her fingers over the runes embroidered along the edge. “Human magic was forbidden, much as it is here. The runes are fairy magic, designed to suppress any magical talent. After I took the wolfskin from my grandmother, I hired a witch to alter the runes on my own cape, turning the fairies’ power outward. Combining the cape and the skin gave me the power I needed to fight them.”

“Human and fairy magic combined into a single artifact,” Snow said. Talia could see how badly she wanted to take Roudette’s cape away for study, but she restrained herself.

Danielle had moved away, following a small brown lizard. The lizard vanished into a crack in the rocks, and Danielle laughed. “I’m sorry, but my friends and I need something larger.”

“How long will it take to reverse Jhukha’s curse and change her back?” Talia asked.

“That depends.” Snow rubbed her hands, which were already beginning to pink from the sun.

Talia returned to the saddlebags, hoping Naheer had thought to pack proper desert wear. She soon dug out a brown linen robe and a matching head scarf. She tossed the former to Snow, then helped her with the scarf, tucking both ends in the back Kha’iida style so it covered all but the eyes.

“It won’t be easy,” Snow said. “I don’t even know what Jhukha was, let alone what kind of power it might have.”

“She was a Jinniyah,” said Roudette. “Seducers of the soul. Rare, but powerful.”

“She?” Snow repeated.

Roudette stared. “Jhukha was female. You didn’t notice?”

“I’ve never seen one before.” Snow rolled her eyes. “I saw a picture once, but it’s hard to make out the anatomical details of a creature that’s little more than a smudge of smoke and darkness.”

“How long?” Talia repeated.

“Hours. Maybe days.” Snow looked away. “Jinniyah have little power of their own. They’re slaves, taking magic from their masters. The greater the magic, the stronger the master’s control.”

“If you’re right about Zestan, that means Faziya was cursed by deev magic,” Roudette said.

“You changed a priest into a mouse,” Talia said. “If you can do that—”

“I could reshape Faziya’s body.” Snow grabbed the waterskin back from Roudette, pulled down her scarf, and took another drink. “You’d be left with a woman who has the mind and memories of a terrified jackal. Let me talk to Trittibar.”

Talia walked away. She knew it was unfair to expect Snow to wave her hands and return Faziya to her, but it didn’t matter.

“I think I might have found something,” Danielle said, following a fox with oversized ears. The fox raced into the hills, then ran back to Danielle. “He wants me to follow.”

“Go,” said Talia. “Take Snow and Faziya. You’ve got food and water in your saddlebags. Once you find shelter, have Snow do what she can.”

Danielle turned back. “What about you?”

Talia clasped her hands together. Her knuckles were white. “I’ve no intention of sitting around helpless in my own land.”

“You’re not helpless,” Danielle said.

Talia pointed at Faziya. “I can’t do anything for her. All I could do is watch and wait. I’m bad at waiting.”

“I understand.” Damn her, but she probably did, too. Danielle was like that.

“What are you going to do?”

Talia adjusted her sword. “Make sure Snow isn’t interrupted.”

 

“You should have killed Rajil.” Sweat dripped down Roudette’s face as she and Talia hiked through the hills. She had pushed back her hood and rolled her sleeves as high as they would go. The red cape was wool, made for a colder land. Combined with the wolfskin, she was afraid Snow White might have been right. She was sweating too much, and her body would dry up like a corpse soon if she wasn’t careful.

She was tempted to return to her wolf form, which had only a thick coat of fur to worry about. But fur in the desert wasn’t much of an improvement.

“I thought about it,” Talia said.

“Zestan owns her, and that spell your witch cast won’t hold forever.”

“Sometimes there are better choices than killing everyone who gets in your way.”

“Maybe,” Roudette admitted. “I’ve found that killing is safest, though.”

“If I killed Rajil, Jhukha would take control until Queen Lakhim named a new raikh.” Talia reached the top of the hill and crouched low. “Rajil has her doubts, even if she refuses to admit them. You could see it in her eyes. Better a human coward in control than one of Zestan’s fairies.”

“It makes no difference.” Roudette crawled up beside Talia. In the distance, she could make out a small band of men on horseback, following a pair of dogs. Mortal dogs, thankfully. “Humans ran my village, but they worshiped the fairies, just as Rajil does.”

“Yet the Wild Hunt destroyed them anyway.”

“The Hunt cares nothing for worship.” Roudette turned away from the approaching band, sitting with her back against the rock. “My father was a patriarch of the fairy church. From birth, my brother and I were raised to follow the Path. Only my grandmother turned away from fairy teachings.”

She rarely thought about Grandmother these days. Of course, she hadn’t spent this much time around other people since she was a child. “My grandmother had left the Path years before. She spent most of her time away, but one day I spotted smoke rising from her old cabin. I thought maybe she had come back for the festival of midsummer. My parents had warned us away from her, but the church instructed us to save those we love, to try to lead them back to salvation. So I snuck away with a basket of fairy cakes.”

“Fairy cakes?” asked Talia.

“Muffins filled with red jam, to represent the blood of the sacrifice. Until I was five, I believed the Savior tasted like strawberries.

“I called out when I reached Grandmother’s cabin, but there was no answer. I heard noises, so I snuck inside. The sounds were coming from the bedroom.”

Talia shifted, studying the men below. “The wolf?”

“I thought it had eaten my grandmother and fallen asleep in the bed. I remember thinking how large her teeth were, bared even in sleep. Blood oozed from a cut in her side. The blankets were soaked. I started to sneak away, but she opened her eyes and looked at me. Her eyes were enormous, and I recognized them as Grandmother’s. I stayed with her until nightfall, when the hunter came.”

“The hunter from the story,” said Talia. “He was part of the Wild Hunt?”

“The festival of midsummer was a time of prayer and confession, a time to cleanse ourselves of sin so that the Wild Hunt might look elsewhere for their prey. Grandmother knew better. She had spent years using the wolfskin to fight the Hunt, until at last she fell. She had been stabbed the night before. I don’t know how she found the strength to return to her cabin. The hunter tracked her blood.”

Roudette stroked the fur of the cape. “Grandmother couldn’t speak, but she roused herself enough to drag me to a closet, hiding me before he entered. He cut the skin from her body while I watched, then pinned the skin to the floor with his spear. Fire exploded from the shaft. He left, expecting the flames to destroy Grandmother and the skin both.”

She hadn’t planned on telling Talia this, but after the past day, she thought it important for Talia to know, to see what was coming.

“Grandmother called to me.” Roudette closed her eyes. She could smell the smoke, could see Grandmother’s blood pooling on the floor. “She told me to take the wolfskin and save my family.”

Talia’s face hardened. “The hunter wasn’t alone.”

“The Hunt had spared our land for years. I had never heard the howling of their hounds except in stories, never seen their steeds save in pictures in church, but Grandmother knew. She had tracked the Hunt all her life, and when she realized their path would lead them to our village, she returned to try to protect us.

“I ran to the house, but the howling started before I was halfway there. I wanted to flee, but the touch of the wolfskin gave me strength. By the time I reached my village, little was left. Most of the Hunt were riding through the woods, chasing down the survivors. I ran into my house to find the same hunter who had killed my grandmother now standing before my parents. He murdered my mother while my father watched. He would have done the same to my little brother had I not donned the skin to stop him.”

Roudette’s hands were shaking. Strange, the power those memories still held over her. She dug her fingers into the wolf’s fur until anger pushed the fear away. “The church taught that the Wild Hunt were minions of God, taking only the sinners from this world. For years I wondered what sins we had committed to draw the Hunt’s fury. Only later did I begin to understand. I searched for meaning and motives from those who had neither. The Hunt has no purpose, no plan. They simply are.”

Talia stared at the men below. “The Wild Hunt roams the entire world.”

“Which means Zestan’s power will do the same,” Roudette agreed. “If she controls the Hunt, she can send them against anyone. For the moment she’s content to conquer Arathea, but after that . . .”

Talia turned to retreat down the hill. “We’ll cut a false path east, toward the Makras River. If we’re lucky, we can divert them away long enough for us to disappear.”

Roudette grinned. “I have a better idea. Those men have supplies, yes?”

“Nobody comes into the desert unprepared.”

“We could use extra food and water, and I’m ready for another fight.” Roudette unfastened her cape and flipped it about. She brought the hood over her head, letting the skin’s magic seep into her skin. Pulling it tight would trigger the transformation, but she wasn’t quite ready for that. She threw back her head and howled.

The sound faded quickly. Talia dropped flat, peering through thorny plants at the men below. “They’re coming this way. You know, normally I prefer to have surprise on my side when I’m outnumbered five to one.”

“Wait,” Roudette said. A second howl made the men whirl, searching the hills for the source. A third followed, then two more. Roudette howled again, drawing on the skin’s power to summon the wolves of the desert. “Who’s outnumbered now?”

“One of Rajil’s men will carry a horn,” Talia said. “If he calls for help, or if even one of them get away—”

“You worry too much. We’re all going to die someday.” Roudette pulled the skin tight. As the wolf enveloped her, she added, “If it’s today, you might as well go out fighting.”

 

The cave the fox had found was hardly an ideal location for Snow’s magic: low and cramped, full of sand and old spiderwebs. It had been full of old spiders too, until Snow used a quick spell to clear them out. She shivered, trying not to think about the parade of spiders and other creepy things that had poured from the shadows.

She would have given much for the comfort of her library, not to mention a good night’s sleep.

“You can’t restore her if you don’t know what you’re restoring her to,” Trittibar said.

“I know that!” Snow scowled at the tiny image in her mirror. Trittibar’s arm was bandaged against his body. His clothes were more subdued than normal, and his voice had lost some of its spirit, but he was doing his best to help. Unfortunately, there was only so much he could do from Lorindar. “When I use shapechanging magic, the subject’s own memories help restore her to her natural form. Faziya has no memory of her former shape.”