Shadowlands (19 page)

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Authors: Violette Malan

BOOK: Shadowlands
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Wolf shook his head, his eyes never leaving Alejandro’s face. “The scratch will not heal.”

“Alejandro, let me…” I gestured toward his leg.


Querida
, you can do nothing that I have not already done. I have had much worse than this in the bullring.”

“No, that’s not it.” I had an idea, and I needed to see where it would take me. “I wonder, if I touch it, could I get anything from it?” Now they both looked at me. Finally, his forehead still furrowed above his red-gold brows, Alejandro rolled up his pant leg, exposing a bandage wrapped around the meaty part of his calf. The blood
seeping through the layers of wrapping was fresh. I loosened the clips, and unwrapped the bandage as quickly as I could. I had to admit the wound didn’t look all that bad. It was deepish, for a scratch, but even I had seen worse. Still, it should have stopped bleeding by now. I laid my hand along the wound.

[An animal; wings won’t open; body distorted, the sickness, the constant, uncontrollable hunger;
flicker
, twitch, tic; moments of peace, moments of control; fear of the Pack Leader; fear of the bright
gra’if
blade –]

“Valory.” It was Wolf’s voice, Wolf’s hand on my shoulder, pulling me back from Alejandro. He had my glass in his hand. I hadn’t realized I’d dropped it. He must have caught it before it hit the floor.

“It was the same person,” I said. “The one you saw, the Rider? The Hound? The same person.” I pointed to his wound. “He’s still there, somehow.” I looked at Alejandro. “You saw him, just before he Faded away, you saw the Rider.”

Alejandro did not look up from rewrapping his wound. “I saw a Rider,” he admitted. “I could not be sure.” He pulled down the leg of his trousers so the wound was covered once more, and looked up at Wolf. “How can this be?”

The other Rider shook his head. “I do not know,” he said finally. “The Hunt were brought here by the Riders of the Basilisk Prince, to search for the Exile.” His eyes flicked from me to Alejandro and back again. “Until Hawk and I killed one in Spain,” he said, “I was not even sure they had not all returned.”

Alejandro glanced at me and I nodded. That had been the recent killing I’d read on Wolf earlier.

“Was it difficult?”

Again a look flashed over his face. Alejandro would see horror, and attribute it to the encounter, but I knew suddenly that Wolf had recognized the Hound that he’d killed. Had thought how easily it could have been him. I couldn’t say anything to comfort him, no gesture, without revealing too much to Alejandro.

This lying thing was more difficult than I’d thought.

“I have
gra’if
,” Wolf finally said. “And there were two of us.”

Again, Alejandro and Wolf looked steadily at one another.

“What can we do?” I said to Alejandro. “How do we fix your leg?”

“He must go to the High Prince. Only a Healer of the People can medicine a wound of the Hunt.”

“Nonsense.”

“You know it is so. A Hound’s bite will not heal.”

“But this is only a scratch, the beast did not bite me.”

“You can’t chance it, Alejandro,” I said.

“And you can bear news of this new Hunt, these new Hounds, to the High Prince.”

“Should that not be
your
job.” But I could tell Alejandro was wavering.

Wolf shook his head. “I have my task already, and I cannot turn from it. The High Prince gave me your name, having known of you, during her time here as Warden. And those I have spoken with confirm that you are the one who will point me further along my way. That is why I came to you, why I am here, now.”

I felt an unreasonable pang, but it was only momentary. Maybe Alejandro wasn’t the only person Wolf had come to see. Even as he spoke, he was looking at me. But what he’d said had made sense to Alejandro. He was, after all, the oldest resident, and over the centuries, had met most if not all of the expatriates of the Lands.

“Have you seen maps,” he asked Wolf now. “Do you know how to use them?”

Chapter Eight

I
’D THOUGHT WE’D BE OFF to the Lands right away, but once Wolf had gone it didn’t take me long to figure out that Alejandro had no intention of having his wounds looked at.

“Just let me put on some shoes,” I said to him. “How long do you think we’re going to be? Should we ask Barb to feed Oro?”

But Alejandro only shook his head. “There is no need for us to go anywhere. We cannot even know if she will help me.”

“But she’s your High Prince.” I sat down in the seat Wolf had vacated. I knew that tone, we were in for another argument. “Of course she has to help you—look, she’s sent Wolf here to let all of you know about her, hasn’t she? Why would she do that if she didn’t mean to help you?”

“I cannot believe that you have so quickly forgotten my promise to the Outsiders.” A gesture stopped what I was about to say. “I have contacted the others I know,” he said. “Asking if they have also seen reports of occurrences similar to what is being called the High Park flu. Some have not yet replied. I am needed here,
querida
, I cannot go to the Lands.”

I opened my mouth and closed it again without speaking. Obviously,
there wasn’t any point in arguing that getting medical attention might actually be of some help. The wound wasn’t going to heal, but what could I say? That Alejandro wouldn’t go because it would look as though he were following Wolf’s instructions? Oh, yeah, I knew where that would get me.

Okay, then. If the direct approach wouldn’t work…

“How fast is this poison supposed to work? How about if we wait until your friends get back to you, and then go, if you aren’t any better?”

That was a compromise he could agree to, but he still wasn’t ready to give in completely. “I cannot leave you alone and unprotected. The Hunt has already shown an interest in you—”

“And that’s another reason to go, to take the news about the Hunt and these stable Hounds. The High Prince needs to be told about this.” I waited, but his face showed no change. I sighed. “Look, if you’re worried about me, I could go with you.”

“Ay, querida, estoy entre la espada y la pared.”

That almost made me smile. The Spanish expression for “between a rock and a hard place” was very apt, considering the number of swords there were around. “It can’t be as bad as all that.”

He shut his eyes and shook his head. “If you stay, there is the Hunt, and if you go…”

I exhaled through my nose, good and loud. “What’s so dangerous there?” I asked. “Isn’t the bad guy gone, and the good guys in charge? I’ve met some of the People already; I’m not likely to be spooked. Besides, I’ve got as much right to go as any other human who’s been taken to the Lands, maybe more. I should be allowed to visit the ancestral home of my forebears.”

“Ah, but the People you have met have been long in the Shadowlands, and learned to live with humans, to value them, to form
fara’ips
.” Alejandro began to pace. “The People of the Lands do not live like humans, in cities.
Fara’ips
of Riders are based on Ward or Guidebeast or even shared philosophy, as with the Wild Riders, who rove freely, always Moving, while others, like the Griffin Lords, have strongholds. And that is only true of Riders.” He stopped pacing and faced me. “Solitaries are truly as their name describes them, living entirely apart and may go the whole of their lives without having
contact with any one else. Naturals.” He shrugged. “They live as they live, how could they not?”

I thought I knew what he meant. I’d met the Natural who lived in the fountain in Madrid. At least, that’s how I’d always spoken of her. But the truth was she didn’t
live in
the fountain, she
was
the fountain. How would someone like her, but one who had never seen a human being, react to meeting one for the very first time? Still…

“There must be some who’ve met humans before.”

“And there are some who believe humans are only myths,” Alejandro countered. “And others who might very well treat you as though you were merely an interesting type of animal—a pet. I would not have you exposed to such…disrespect.”

I don’t think that’s exactly what he’d meant to say. “But that’s
my
lookout, I should think. I mean, if it’s safe otherwise, I’m willing to take the chance of being looked down on. And even if it isn’t,” he opened his mouth again and I interrupted him. “You’ve just admitted you don’t think it’s any safer to stay here.”

Alejandro leaned back in his chair, crossed one leg over the other and started swinging his foot. “You are right. I must not leave you alone. Please.” He held up his hand as I opened my mouth. “That is not what I meant. Though you must be reasonable, my dear one. Surely you see that taking precautions is essential. Even small children are taught to look for cars before stepping into the street.”

“Okay.” I nodded. “Okay. I’ll even concede that extraordinary circumstances call for extraordinary precautions. I just don’t want to be kept locked away.” My voice shook a bit on these last words, but Alejandro pretended not to notice.

“Very well. If I go to the Lands, you shall go with me.”

I don’t know if I could have gotten him to agree to more, but just then the doorbell rang. Once again Alejandro got to the door ahead of me, but I knew who would be standing there just the same.

“Val.” Nik Polihronidis looked over Alejandro’s shoulder at me and smiled, making my stomach flutter. The two men followed me back through the house, but something made me offer Nik a seat in the dining room. Somehow I couldn’t sit down with him in the same place I’d been sitting with Wolf. Alejandro went through to the kitchen to make coffee.

“Okay, so that’s one less Hound, and one who isn’t a Hound, Yves tells me.” It wasn’t a question, but Nik turned to me and raised his eyebrows.

“That’s right,” I said.

“So you won’t mind telling me how you know?”

Today Nik’s suit was a tan linen, with a very faint pale blue chalk line that was picked up by his shirt. He wasn’t wearing a tie, but his question had come out just like we were in a courtroom.

My jaw actually dropped open. Crap. I’d forgotten that he didn’t know. Alejandro put the tray with coffee cups, sugar, and heated milk on the ledge of the pass-through and came into the room himself, picking up the tray again and placing it on the table.

“Querida,”
he said. He was leaving it up to me, to handle as I wanted, and the knowledge that he believed I could gave me the courage to do so.

“I’m psychic,” I said. When I’d told Wolf the same thing earlier that morning, he’d used a better word. “I’m a Truthreader.”

I don’t know what I was expecting, but Nik took his coffee from Alejandro, shook his head at the milk, and accepted the sugar without shifting an eyebrow.

“I remember in my village, a friend of my ya-ya’s was supposed to have the sight.” His voice was quiet, and he spoke with his eyes almost closed, looking back what I knew was quite a long way. He stirred his coffee, and looked at me from underneath his eyebrows. “That was a very long time ago, and I don’t remember her being very good.”

“Valory is excellent,” Alejandro said.

Nik began to nod with the air of someone who’d just made a discovery. “All that stuff at the Christie yesterday,” he said. “You’re not a profiler at all, that was all stuff you picked up directly.”

“He’s a much worse man than I told you about,” I said. “But you only needed enough to turn down his application.”

“What did you see when you touched Elaine—” he held up his hand. “No, don’t tell me.” He took a sip of his coffee and set it down with great care on the table. He turned to Alejandro. “Okay, so what’s our next move?”

I blinked. I should have been relieved that Nik wasn’t having hysterics, and pleased that he accepted my talent so easily. So why was
I annoyed? Hadn’t I always wanted to be accepted as just an ordinary girl?

Alejandro spread his hands. “I have contacted my acquaintance among the Riders here. Not many of them bear
gra’if
, but we must hope that those who do will be inclined to help us.”

“Why should that make a difference?”

“I am not certain it does, but the Songs say the Hunt can only be destroyed by someone who bears
gra’if
—which is much the same as saying ‘by a Rider.’ Very few of the People can bear it, or will make the attempt.”

“What is it? Can we get some?”

In answer, Alejandro laid his walking stick on the coffee table between us. I watched Nik’s face, saw his eyes widen as the stick became a sword. The
gra’if
metal glittered as if under moving lights. Nik put out his hand to stroke the hilt, but was unable to touch it.

“I have heard that it is possible for someone who bears
gra’if
to touch the
gra’if
of another,” Alejandro said. “Indeed, among the Wild Riders, who have their own tales and legends of such things, it is the custom for those who wed to exchange some piece of it. As you see, those who do not bear it cannot touch it at all.”

Nik leaned forward, but I already knew that no matter how closely he looked, he wouldn’t be able to make out any details on the blade. “What’s it made of?”

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