Roberson, Jennifer - Cheysuli 07 (39 page)

 
          
Aidan
grunted mild disapproval. "They will hear you."

 
          
Tye
made a derisive sound of dismissal. "The gods hear nothing. Why should they?
Do you think they care? Do you think they pay the slightest attention to any of
us?"

 
          
Ashra
stirred. "Hush," she said quietly. "You offer offense to our
guest."

 
          
The
singer put out a hand to touch Ashra's arm. She sat close by his side, and
Aidan had decided, with regret, they were not brother and sister. "You
have already told him I am overhasty when I speak," Tye reminded her.
"Why should I hide it now?"

 
          
She
slanted him a glance from the corners of her eyes. "Offense should never
be given a guest. Think what you like in private… there is no need to speak
it."

 
          
Aidan
waved a hand. "No need to bother yourself, Ashra—I think Tye and I will
never be reconciled about much of anything."

 
          
Siglyn
spoke for the first time since the meal. "Do you think only you are right,
then, in what you believe? Because of your birth?"

 
          
Aidan
sighed heavily. "My birth means nothing at all. Why do you dwell on it? In
the clans only the blood matters, and its continuation, not in what flesh it
flows. Do you see? I am Cheysuli first: child of the gods. I am then a warrior,
and I honor my
tahlmorra
. I am a
prince last of all."

 
          
"That,"
Tye declared, "is not possible."

 
          
Aidan,
sliding into an Erinnish cadence, fixed him with a baleful eye. "I'd be
venturing, my pretty lad, 'twould be far easier for me to shed my royalty than
for the likes of you to
gain
it."

 
          
Ashra
laughed, not in the least taken aback by Aidan's verbal attack on Tye.
"Well said!"

 
          
"Indeed,"
Siglyn agreed morosely.

 
          
Tye,
unaffronted, merely grunted. "Most probably. But I have no wish to be a
prince."

 
          
Aidan
nearly laughed; his
kivarna
bespoke
the lie. "No man
never
wishes he
were a prince, Solindishman. Had you the chance—"

 
          
"—he
would accept it instantly," Ashra finished. "And you
would
, Tye."

 
          
Tye
grunted again. "But it is bootless. There will be no chance for me to find
out. I am only a singer, and a poor one."

 
          
Ashra
was instantly outraged. "Poor! You are the best I have ever heard!"

 
          
Tye
grinned at her. "And how many have you heard?"

 
          
Color
stained her cheeks. "Enough," she said softly, touching fingers to
his face. "Enough—and more—to know."

 
          
The
old man tightened his robe around thin shoulders. "What magic do
you
claim, shapechanger?"

 
          
Aidan,
considering, recalled Siglyn's trade was in magic, and fashioned his answer to
suit it. "Nothing to rival yours, old man." He smiled disarmingly.
"All I claim is
lir
-shape."

 
          
Siglyn
grunted. "Nothing more? No more than that?"

 
          
Aidan
shrugged, making light of his answer. "We can heal, when required."

 
          
Rheumy
blue eyes narrowed. "And?"

 
          
Aidan
put off answering by unplugging the wineskin and drinking, then carefully
squeaking the cork home. "Some say there is a third gift," he
admitted frankly. "But it is only rarely used. We do not care for what it
does to a man's soul."

 
          
The
old man smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. "And what does it do to a
man's soul, that you would quail from it?"

 
          
Aidan's
gaze did not waver. "It takes," he answered flatly. "It
overpowers. It sucks away a man's will and leaves him with nothing at all save
what the other tells him."

 
          
Siglyn's
eyes shone. He grunted approval, as if vindicated. "I thought so. I've
heard it said many a time the Cheysuli have he power to be demons, if they
choose."

 
          
Aidan's
tone was clipped. "We do
not
choose," he declared. "We understand too well what compulsion can do
to a man, and we choose otherwise. The power to be demons is reserved by the
Ihlini. It is what they practice."

 
          
Tufted
white brows jerked upward. "
Do
we?" Siglyn asked. "Is that what we practice?"

 
          
Even
as the purple flame shrouded the old man's fingers, Aidan was on his feet. The
knife was in his hand, but Ashra was at his side instantly, touching his wrist.

 
          
"No,"
she said softly.

 
          
Siglyn
laughed. It had a rusty, creaking sound, as if only rarely used. "I have
taken you by surprise."

 
          
Aidan,
whose immediate testing of the
lir
-link
told him there was no interference, frowned at the old man. "Aye," he
said abstractedly. "But—I can reach my
lir
.
And he said nothing—"

 
          
"Does
it matter?" Ashra asked.

 
          
"He
should have warned me. A
lir
always
gives warning of an enemy."

 
          
Her
fingers turned the knife downward. "That should tell you something."

 
          
Aidan
barely heard her. He stared across the fire at Tye, whose green eyes were odd
in the flickering light. "And you?"

 
          
Tye
smiled. "I am, as you are, many things. Solindish: aye. Ihlini as well.
But also a singer. My teacher was Taliesin."

 
          
"Taliesin
has been dead for more than twenty years!"

 
          
"I
am older than I look." Tye sat upright, setting aside his wineskin.
"You are not a fool, Aidan of Homana. Why act like one now?"

 
          
Bitterness
welled up. "Am I a fool to be wary of the enemy?"

 
          
Siglyn
glared. "How quick you are to assume the worst of us. Aye, you are a fool!
You have not wit enough to
ask
your
bird if we mean you any harm. And yet only moments before you condescended to
inform us a prince is no different from any other."

 
          
Teel
? Aidan asked.
Why was I not warned? You should have told me… and I should have sensed
the interference in the link
—His belly tightened.—
unless they also have something of a Cheysuli for use in making shields
—

 
          
Teel
sounded disgusted.
Are you so blind as
that? Or have you become a lackwit
?

 
          
I am no lackwit because I prefer to
know
who my enemies are—
Aidan broke it off
laggardly, belatedly comprehending.
Is
that it? Solindish, Ihlini, or no
—
they
are not my enemy
?

 
          
In
the link, Teel sighed.
There is hope for
you yet
.

 
          
Irritated,
Aidan glared again at the old man. "Do you blame me for being dubious? Our
blood has been at war for centuries. You
yourself
fought—" He frowned. "And if you fought Carillon, it means you fought
with
Bellam."

 
          
"Of
course it does," the old man snapped. "I was a loyal Solindishman—"

 
          
"—a
loyal
Ihlini
—"

 
          
"—and
dedicated to my land." Siglyn glared. "You are rude. You have no
respect for the aged—"

 
          
"You
have no respect for
me
—"

 
          
"Because
we fooled you?" Siglyn grinned, baring old teeth. "You fooled
yourself. Because
we
did not declare
our race, as you do with all your barbaric, ostentatious gold—" he made a
rude gesture all too dismissive of the
lir-
gold
"—then we are obviously tricksters out to spill your blood." Siglyn
indicated the knife still clutched in Aidan's hand. "Of course,
you
have the weapon…" He sighed,
glancing at Tye. "The Cheysuli spend much of their time telling gullible
Homanans that we are all demons and servants of Asar-Suti, the Seker—without
once considering our feelings."

 
          
"Your
feelings
!" Aidan was astounded.
"You are the enemy—at least, some of you are…" He scowled blackly at
the old man, disliking the morass he was, from all appearances, walking into on
his own. "
Too many
of you are.
Do you know how many of my race—of my
kin
—your
kind have killed? Do you know that Strahan's son only weeks ago murdered a
helpless infant, and then tried to kill your lord?"

 
          
"What
baby?" Ashra asked. "We have been long on the road, and news travels
slowly…" A vertical line drew heavy brows together. "What baby,
Aidan?"

 
          
"My
cousin," he answered curtly. "Lochiel murdered him in his bed without
even so much as touching him."

 
          
She
exchanged a glance with Tye. Neither of them spoke, but Aidan sensed they were
not pleased by the news. Ashra squeezed his wrist briefly in a gesture he
interpreted as sympathy.

 
          
Siglyn
shifted on his cushion, clearly annoyed. "Strahan was a puffed-up,
arrogant fool with delusions of godhood… must you judge us all by him?"

 
          
"It
is a bit difficult
not
to, when he
has been so dedicated to destroying my race. And now his son as well—"

 
          
"But
we are not his sons, or his daughter," Ashra said quietly. "We are
merely Solindish-born Ihlini, trying to make a living in a land gone mad from
war." She sighed, removing her hand from Aidan's wrist. "Strahan has
done more damage to his race than any other, save for Tynstar. It was he who
began
it all."

 
          
Siglyn
grunted. "You know nothing about Tynstar, girl. I knew him personally—"
But he broke it off, waving a hand at Aidan. "Sit down, sit down. If you
are to hear the truth, you should do it with cloth beneath your rump and good
wine close to hand." Tufted brows rose. "Sit
down
, boy!"

 
          
In
the link, Teel suggested it might be wise. No sense in standing when one could
sit and be more comfortable.

 
          
Aidan
sat. But was not comfortable.

 
          
«
^
»

 
          
"First,"
he said, before any of them could speak, "I want to know how.
And
why."

 
          
Ashra,
who added fuel to the fire, cast him a puzzled glance across one slender
shoulder. Ringlets writhed. "What do you mean?"

 
          
"I
should have known you. AH my life I have been told a Cheysuli can tell when an
Ihlini is near, because of the interference in the
lir
-link. And the
lir
always forewarns—" Aidan grimaced, not looking at Teel, "—
usually
forewarns." He sighed,
shifting the wineskin in his lap. "None of us knew Lochiel because he had
a ring once worn by my father. It has been bespelled for years, ever since he
gave it, unknowing, to an Ihlini witch. Rhiannon." He dismissed her with a
gesture. "Lochiel has the ring now, and he used it. Is that how Teel and I
did not know you? Have you a like item?"