The Gray Wolf Throne (33 page)

“you should tell him,” Lucius said. “He deserves to know that his line didn’t die with him. That could make all the difference.

He can help you. He’ll want to help you. Believe me, you want him on your side.”

The old man stood, grabbing up his bottle and cups. “Call willo,” he said. “i’m ready to go home.” And he refused to say anything more.

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Back in

Aediion

After Lucius left, Han asked willo’s healer apprentices to keep any other visitors away. He warned them that he and Dancer would be using dangerous, unstable magic, and laid magical barriers around the perimeter to prevent their being interrupted.

Then he and Dancer sat down on adjacent sleeping benches in the corner of the room.

“you sure you want to do this?” Dancer said. “Lucius seemed to think that Alger waterlow is capable of almost anything. He seems frightened of him, almost.”

“in a way, it supports his story,” Han said. “if we can believe Lucius, Alger was powerful enough to conceal himself in an amulet for a thousand years.”

“why would anyone want to do that?” Dancer said.

“Maybe if you were desperate for revenge,” Han said. “or willing to do whatever it takes to win.” Like me, he added to himself.

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They sat in silence for a moment, each alone with his own thoughts.

“Have you tried returning to Aediion?” Han asked. “Since that day in Gryphon’s class?”

“no, i haven’t,” Dancer said, staring up at the ceiling. “i never saw much use in it, and after what happened to you the first time, i wasn’t eager to try it again.”

“we should go,” Han said, after another long pause. “i can bring you along, or you can come on your own power.”

“i’ll come on my own,” Dancer said. “That way i can leave on my own. Are you wearing your rowan talisman?” Dancer reached up and touched his own. He’d made one for himself after Han’s had prevented Crow from possessing him.

Han nodded, opening his collar so Dancer could see. “wait a few minutes before you follow me. i’ll give Crow a bit of warning that you’re coming.” Han didn’t know if that was a good or a bad idea, but it seemed only fair. “i don’t think it really matters where we meet, as far as Crow is concerned. He’s just always there, waiting. But let’s you and i meet in Mystwerk Tower.” what if Crow doesn’t show? Han thought. i’ll look like a fool.

That was the least of his worries.

He lay back, closing his eyes, and spoke the familiar words to pass through the portal. And opened his eyes to Mystwerk Tower.

Midnight. Moonlight shafted down from the windows, kindling the dust motes in the air.

Crow sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him, dressed all in black, eyes closed, head bowed, his flax hair the only brilliance 285

T H e G r Ay wo L F T H ro n e

about him. if Han didn’t know better, he’d have guessed he was either despondent or praying.

Han reorganized his clothes, ridding himself of the clan garb he’d been wearing and arraying himself in elegant flare, down to glittering rings on his fingers. it had become his way of honoring Crow, of meeting him on his own turf.

Crow opened his eyes and blinked up at him. “Alister!” He scrambled to his feet, brushing at his somber clothing. Then glittered up a bit, sprouting rings and sequins and jewels, as if to present a more cheerful appearance. “you’re alive!” He looked eagerly into Han’s face, examining it for damage. “Are you . . . are you well? How are you feeling?”

Han shrugged, surprised at Crow’s concern. “i’ll live.”

“it’s true, then, that the Maker looks after fools,” Crow said, sounding more like his usual self. “you nearly killed yourself healing that girl. you stripped your amulet and yourself. i thought you were dead. why did you do it?”

Han didn’t know how to answer that question, in the past or present tense. “She was important to me. i had to try and save her.”

“Did she live?” Crow asked. “was all that sacrifice worth it?”

“She’s alive,” Han said. “i haven’t decided whether it was worth it or not.”

Crow laughed, and it was unexpectedly charming. “you’re learning, Alister. i told you not to go to war over a woman.

Though you must be a foolhardy sort if you came back here.”

“i’m still not convinced you’re telling the truth,” Han said.

“i’ve asked someone to join us here. Someone i trust.” Crow’s smile faded, replaced by irritation. “no. Absolutely 286

B AC k i n A e D i i o n

not. our bargain was you come alone. no one else is supposed to know i even exist.”

“our bargain was you’d help me against the Bayars. not treat me like a sweet mark. you’ve got no business squeaking about the rules now.”

Crow began pacing back and forth. “i’m trying to protect you. The Bayars have been trying to pry me free of that amulet for a thousand years. if they find out that you can com-municate with me, what do you think will happen to you? Do you look forward to hours of torture in the dungeon at Aerie House? i’ve been there, and, believe me, i have no desire to go back.”

“when you meet my friend, you’ll realize there’s not much chance he’ll cackle to the Bayars,” Han said. “or that they’d listen if he did. it’s too late anyway, i—” As if he’d called Dancer by speaking of him, the air between them thickened and rippled, and Dancer appeared, clad in fine ceremonial clan garb.

Crow took two steps back, eyes wide, raising his arms in defense. instinctively, Han stepped between Dancer and Crow.

Dancer looked momentarily disoriented, then fixed his gaze on Crow.

“you’re smaller than i expected,” Dancer said, cocking his head. “And no flaming eyes.”

Crow grew fractionally larger and more brilliant, like a peacock displaying his plumage, or a streetlord making show. “A
copper head
? you brought a copperhead here to meet me?” Crow lowered his arms slowly, staring at Dancer like he was a demon himself. “no,” he whispered, his brow furrowed. “That’s not right. you’re a
wizard
disguised as a copperhead.” 287

T H e G r Ay wo L F T H ro n e

Dancer fingered his talisman. “of course i’m a wizard, or i wouldn’t be here. i’m also clan.”

“Hayden Fire Dancer, meet Alger waterlow,” Han said, rather formally.

Crow seemed as edgy as a cat in ragmarket. “There’s something about you,” he whispered, his eyes riveted on Dancer.

“Something . . . hidden. Something dangerous. Something you don’t want anybody to see. Have we met before?” Dancer shook his head. “This is only my second time in Aediion.”

“we have some questions to ask
you
, all right?” Han said, beginning to lose patience.

“Questions?” Crow’s gaze flickered to Han. “what questions?”

“you say you are Alger waterlow, the last of the gifted kings.

if so, then tell me where you used to meet Hanalea in secret, before you ran off together?”

“That’s no one’s business but my own,” Crow said, pressing his lips together like he never meant to open them again.

“it’s our business if we’re going to partner up,” Han said.

“Send the copperhead away,” Crow said. “i’ve no desire to partner with him. Then we’ll talk.”

Han shook his head. “i want him here as witness. otherwise, we’re both out of here.” it was street bravado. He couldn’t let Crow know how desperate he was for his help.

Crow scowled and gave in. “Very well. Hanalea and i used to meet in the glasshouse at Fellsmarch Castle,” he said. “There was a passage through the walls from her chambers.”

“Glasshouse?” Han said uncertainly. Lucius had said the conservatory.

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“The conservatory,” Crow said, waving his hand. “it’s like a glass garden.”

Han struggled to keep his street face while his stomach lurched. was it possible Crow was telling the truth?

“All right, then,” Han said. “Sounds plausible. what did you give Hanalea as a handfast gift?”

Crow’s eyes narrowed. “who told you that?” he demanded.

“where is this coming from?”

Han hesitated a moment. “Do you remember Lucius Frowsley?”

Crow seemed lost. “Frowsley?” He shook his head. “i don’t really . . .” He looked up. “Do you mean Lucas?” he said. “Lucas Fraser? He was in school with me at Mystwerk. He was my best friend. But that was a thousand years ago.”

Han frowned. Had Lucius changed his name? “Maybe,” Han said. “it’s a long story, but he’s still alive. He gave me these questions. And the answers.”

“Lucas,” Crow whispered, more to himself than to Han. “is it possible? i’d nearly forgotten about . . . that. He was so eager to live forever, but i had no idea if—”

“Just answer the question, will you?” Han said.

Crow’s brilliant eyes fixed on Han. “i gave Hanalea a ring—

moonstones and pearls and sapphires. And she gave me a gold ring, engraved with her name on the inside, so i’d always have her against my skin.” He laughed bitterly. “The Bayars took it from me, along with everything else.”

“it’s really true, then,” Dancer said, his hand closing reflexively around his amulet. “you
are
the Demon king.” Crow turned toward Dancer. Then stumbled back a step as 289

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recognition flooded into his face and fired in his eyes.

“Speaking of demons,” Crow said, his voice low and dangerous. “i believe you have a demon’s face.” Springing forward, he smashed into Dancer as he had done when he’d taken possession of Micah in Aediion. But again he bounced back, driven off by the rowan talisman.

“you’re a filthy Bayar!” Crow cried, rolling to his feet, his image rippling and fraying like a flag in the wind. “Did you think i wouldn’t know you after all these years? Do you think i wouldn’t recognize that Aerie House stench?” His voice trembled, his face twisting in revulsion.

Dancer just stood there as if frozen, saying nothing.

“i
told
you how important it was to keep my existence a secret, especially from the Bayars,” Crow said to Han, his voice low and furious. “now you’ve gambled away what little chance you had in the first place.”

“you’re mistaken,” Han said, since Dancer still said nothing.

“Use your eyes. Dancer’s no Bayar. He’s clan, raised at Marisa pines. i’ve known him since we were
lytlings
.”

“kill him,” Crow said through clenched teeth. “kill him now or we’ll all suffer the consequences.”

“why is it you’re always trying to goad me into killing somebody?” Han demanded.

“you’re a fool, Alister,” Crow said. “And i was a fool to trust you.” He sizzled out like a dying spark.

Han and Dancer both stared at the spot he’d vacated.

“i’m sorry, Hunts Alone,” Dancer said, with a heavy sigh. “i hope i haven’t ruined it for you. i know you were counting on his help.”

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“what got into him?” Han said. “Maybe you were right—a thousand years trapped in an amulet has made him crazy.” Dancer shook his head. “or maybe he’s good at spotting a Bayar, that’s all,” he said quietly. As Han watched, Dancer’s clothes changed from clan leggings and shirt to wizard robes, the stoles emblazoned with the Stooping Falcon. His hair, however, was still braided and tied in clan fashion.

“My mother is clan, Hunts Alone,” Dancer said. “Have you ever wondered who my father was?”

“well, i heard the story, what willo said at your naming,” Han said, his voice trailing away.

“it was true, most of it,” Dancer said. “except the part where she claimed she didn’t know who it was. Can you think of a wizard ruthless enough to come into the Spirits and attack a young woman in the forest like that?”

Han studied Dancer’s features—the jarring blue eyes set into his bronzed face, the angular bone structure, the heavy dark brows. As understanding dawned, Han’s throat constricted painfully, as if there were a large rock he was trying to swallow.

“The resemblance
is
rather striking once you know to look for it,” Dancer said matter-of-factly.

“Hanalea’s blood and bones,” Han whispered, shaking his head. “your father is Gavan Bayar.” no wonder Dancer had viewed his gift as a curse.

“you don’t know how tempting it’s been to present myself to Micah and Fiona as their long-lost older brother,” Dancer said.

“Almost worth getting myself killed. For a time, that seemed like an easy way out. i’d step forward as a Bayar, and they would murder me.”

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Memories came back to Han—Dancer’s furious reaction when they’d met Micah and his cousins on Hanalea. it had seemed so out of character at the time. Dancer’s knowledge of wizards and their ways—uncommon among the Spirit clans. Micah’s reaction to Dancer, each time they met . . .

“Do the Bayars know?” Han said.

Dancer shook his head, half smiling. “i think Micah sees his father in me. it’s like he knows on some instinctive level, but he just can’t bring himself to believe it. i’ve never met Lord Bayar. if
he
knew, i’d be dead already.”

“what about the Demonai? Averill? elena
Cennestre
? Do they know?”

Dancer shook his head. “if
they
knew, they’d have drowned me at birth. willo and i are the only ones that knew. now you.

And Crow, unfortunately.”

Han recalled when willo had brought Dancer to the city, to Speaker Jemson, hoping to cure him of his cursed gift. She’d kept the secret for a lifetime, trying to find a place for the son she loved in a world at war with itself.

“why didn’t you tell me?” Han asked, his mind reeling.

“you’re one to talk,” Dancer arrowed back. “How many secrets have you kept from me?”