"Anyway, if what Diric wants is some way for us all to disappear that makes it appear as if we could have done so at any time, Rena may be able to leave some signs that will confuse them no end," he pointed out. "For that matter, she could make changes in the food that will put Jamal's warriors to sleep, she
could
collapse the tent after we've gone—"
"Don't make too many promises, Lorryn," Rena interrupted, blushing. "I'll do what I can, but I'm not a great wizard like La—the Elvenbane is," she said, clearly unable to force herself to call Shana by anything other than her title.
But Shana only laughed. "Believe me, 7 am not the great wizard that the Elvenbane is," she replied warmly, with a friendly smile that brought another blush to Rena's cheeks and an answering smile to Lorryn's lips. "If I were, do you think we'd have been caught in the first place? No, the best thing we can do is to assess all of our abilities and use them to advantage. There is a real value in being able to work subtle magics; taming the
alicorn
s the way you did, for instance. Or—say—stopping a heart."
Shana cast that last out carelessly, or so it seemed, but Lorryn caught a gleam in her eyes as she waited for Rena's response. And to his surprise, his sister went just a little pale.
But her reply was steady enough. "I—that had occurred to me," she said softly. "I did try it, once, with a bird that was already dying. Never again, though."
She had?
That
surprised him more than almost anything else today!
"It's not a power to use lightly" was all Shana said, but she said it so soberly that he knew, deep within his heart, that the burden of all of the dead of the second Wizard War lay heavily on her soul, and always would. "But sometimes—" Her eyes looked far away, into some bleak place where he could not go. "Sometimes, you aren't given a choice. If, by using a power like that, you could save an innocent life—"
Then she shook herself, and returned to the present. "Any way, the last thing I'm going to ask you to do is use something like
that
on—say—Jamal. He hasn't actually hurt anyone yet. He might not. He might be so frightened and alarmed by discovering we're going that he might turn his people right back around and go home. He might get a late-night visitation from his god telling him mat he's been a naughty boy. Anything could happen."
Rena nodded, but her relief at Shana's words was written clearly in her expression.
Mero reached out and patted her hand, comfortingly. She smiled shyly at him, calling up a reassuring smile in return. He did not remove his hand from hers.
Oh, really
? Was Lorryn's startled thought. And for just an instant, all the instincts of the protective brother rose up in him—
But they subsided just as quickly. Why not, after all? When had she ever met
any
fullblood who'd treated her with a fraction of the courtesy that Mero had, even in the few moments since they'd met? He could simply be offering kindness to her—
Oh yes. And my Ancestors on both sides will rise up out of their graves and declare peace between the races.
—and what if something more did develop between them? Was it any of
his
business? The little he knew of Mero personally, he liked. Certainly no one could live around Shana for long and continue to harbor the usual elven prejudices about females.
But what was Shana going to do about this? Had she even noticed?
A quick glance in her direction told him that she
had
noticed. Her eyes were on the linked hands—and she was smiling, ever so slightly.
Well, well, well
. If Shana didn't mind, if she approved, who was he to interfere?
And nothing at all may come of this anyway
, he reminded himself, and turned his mind and attention back to the topic at hand. After all, nothing
could
come of this until they were all free and away from this place.
* * *
Myre was altogether pleased with the way things were going. At the Citadel, old Caellach Gwain was slowly undermining the authority of those that Shana had left in charge—and with every day that passed that did
not
bring Shana's return, even those loyal to her lost some of their confidence. Careful never to go where one of the dragons might spot her, she moved among them in the guise of a former human slave, dropping little hints, fragments of doubt. Perhaps Shana had deserted them. Perhaps she had been captured by the elven lords. Perhaps she had fallen victim to some horrid monster of the wilderness, something no one had ever encountered before.
With care and guile she spread the insidious doubts—that, no matter what the cause, Shana, the Elvenbane, was never coming back.
Caellach Gwain, bless his twisted old heart, was quick to pick up on the rumors and spread them further. Denelor and the Senior Wizard were hard put to keep their hold over the others at this point. Let them come up against the first real danger or hardship, and the unity of the wizards would shatter like shale.
And as for Jamal…
She waited for him in her dead-end canyon. He had not yet been ready to ally with her at their last meeting, but she sensed he was close. He was probably waiting to find out just what it was that she wanted, like any properly cautious creature.
The soft thud of hooves warned her he had arrived, and she settled herself for a nice, productive talk. She had decided, if he asked her what her "reward" would be for her aid, that she would tell him the truth. It was a truth that
he
would certainly understand.
The war-bull, with Jamal leading it afoot, plodded around a bend toward her. He stopped at a prudent distance from her.
"I am here," he said simply.
"As am I," she replied, with a nod of her head. "So. I have offered alliance, War Chief. You said that you wished to think on it. Have you thought?"
"I have." His heavy brows drew together. "You have not said what it is that you will gain from this alliance. It is said, 'an ally who asks for nothing expects everything.' That is not a bargain I am prepared to make."
Myre hissed laughter. "And a wise man you are. But you, War Chief, will surely understand what it is that I want—for although to some it may seem insignificant, it is a reward beyond price for
me
."
He waited, silent, for her to name that reward.
"Revenge," she breathed, and saw his entire face light up with understanding and appreciation. "You have as captives my enemy and my brother.
That
is my reward; a free hand with each."
"Done," he said instantly, and grounded the butt of his spear in the earth. "I swear it by the red earth and the black, by the Forge and the Fire. Now—how are we to make use of this alliance?"
He cocked his head to one side, quizzically.
"You know, for I have shown you, that I can take any form I please," she replied. "So—first, I shall go among your people in a form that
none
would suspect, and I will listen and learn who is your friend, who is your foe, and who is undecided. Then, when the time is right, you declare for yourself the full power of the Clan leadership, with a dragon to ride as proof of your mastery! You select a few who most oppose you and—" She delicately examined her talons. "I think I need say no more."
He nodded, pleased. "I doubt that many will continue hi opposition once the first lessons have been dispensed," he said with a bloodthirsty chuckle that would have sounded well in the throat of a dragon. "And after, if you continue to walk in that form-with-no-suspicion, we will continue to learn who opposes in silence. Hmm?"
"Precisely." Now it was her turn to cock her head to the side, quizzically. "I assume you do have a form in mind?"
"Oh, yes!" Now he laughed. "And that is the cream of the jest! So let me tell you___"
If Shana had allowed herself any time to think of anything but their immediate problem, she knew she would have been baffled, bewildered, and entirely turned round about by now. She had
thought
that she was and would always be in love with Valyn, poor Valyn, who had sacrificed himself to save all of them from his father.
Her friendship with Mero had never turned to anything more than that, after all. Nor did her friendship with Zed or with any of the other wizards her own age. She had told herself that love only came once—and that it was her job to take the life that Valyn had given to her and make the best she could of it. After a year, she was even able to enjoy herself again. She had thought that would never be so heart-touched again.
Now—now she was not only no longer so sure of
that
, she was no longer so sure that she had ever been in love with Valyn at all! Infatuated, of course. Emotionally at a boiling point, certainly. But in love? Perhaps not.
Her first reaction when she saw Lorryn without any illusion cloaking his features was to compare him to Valyn, and in that comparison he came out a poor second. In a way it was inevitable that she should do so, since his elven blood was so clearly in his features, as opposed to Mero, who looked far more human.
Or even me
, she reminded herself. Her hair had grown out enough that combing it out was a necessity and a chore, but the time needed to untangle it gave her time to think about something other than problems. And that flaming red hair coiling itself around her fingers was a stark reminder that there was very little of the elven maiden in
her
, either.
Lorryn, on the other hand—well, compared to Valyn, he was a copy of a masterpiece by an inexperienced student. His human blood coarsened and thickened his features just enough that it was very noticeable. So her first impression based on looks alone was not a favorable one.
Ah, but then he opened his mouth.
That was when she realized that appearance was the smallest part of Lorryn, and that he could have been as coarse as a mud-doll, and she would have paid attention to him.
He listens to me, which is more than Valyn ever did most of the time. He gives my ideas the same weight as his own. And his own are nothing to be ashamed of.
She took a bit of leather cord and began braiding her hair, working carefully to keep from making more knots than she'd taken out.
He was sensible, too; just because he really liked an idea, that didn't mean he wasn't prepared to give it up if someone came up with a reason why it wouldn't work.
He was willing to learn from all of them: from Shana, who was female; from Mero, who was younger than he; from his own sister, whom by all logic he should have held in the gentle contempt that all elven males held for their women.
Not mat they hadn't had their share of fights—
Well, more like squabbles. Mostly because we were all tense
. But he had been just as willing to patch things up and apologize as she had been, once their tempers had cooled, and after the events of the past two years, she had learned to apologize to just about anybody if it had to be done. Hadn't she learned to be polite to the old whiners? She hadn't expected the same out of him, however.
And now—now she was going out of her way to spend time with him she could have been spending alone. She was fussing with her clothing and hair, things she hadn't cared about in a year or more. She had confided things to him that she hadn't told
anyone
else—not facts, but feelings, the way she hated being "the Elvenbane," the horrible weight it put on her when people expected miracles of her, and the worse weight of rancor when they didn't. She had confessed how the burden of responsibility often felt as if it was going to crush her spirit—and precisely how poor a leader she really was, when it came down to cases.
She thought he understood. At least he listened. He didn't trivialize what she was feeling.
She shook her head a little, and tied off the end of her braid. She'd made a kind of appointment with him tonight, him and him alone, because there was something else going on with their little group of conspirators that could cause some difficulties if he disapproved. She didn't know if he'd noticed, but it seemed to her that she'd better talk to him about this business of Mero and his sister just in case he hadn't.
Although how he could
not
notice, when the two of them were taking long walks in the moonlight before bed at
precisely
the same time, she had no idea. Then again, males were sometimes a bit more oblivious to that than females were, or so she'd heard.
She slipped out of the tent, the
empty
tent. Mero had already gone off on his quest for "exercise"; Keman and Kalamadea were hunting. The two elves were entertaining their captors, and would not be back until after midnight at best. There was no one to notice her going.
Kala noticed her arrival, though, when she presented herself to the Priest-guard at the entrance to Diric's tent. That wise woman only smiled, assured the guard that Dine was expecting the demon, and waved her inside.
Diric, of course, was nowhere to be found; Kala went off to her side of the tent, chuckling at something under her breath. Shana was just as glad she hadn't insisted on playing escort. This was going to be difficult enough as it was.
Lorryn was waiting at the entrance to his slice of tent, holding the flap of the partition open for her, his golden hair shining with the sheen of the true metal in the lamplight. "I heard you outside," he said by way of explanation.
She slipped inside and he dropped the flap behind her, taking his favorite pillow and gesturing to hers. "So what was so important that you needed to talk to me late at night—" one eyebrow rose shrewdly "—without Rena? And without Mero? Both of whom seem to have pressing concerns elsewhere. Or can I guess?"
"I think you already have," she replied, both relieved and a little deflated at the same time. After the way she'd been steeling herself to present the terrible revelation to him—
"So my precious sister is falling in love with a halfblood, if she hasn't done so already." He shook his head dolefully. "Aye me, what is this world coming to? It is the end of civilization as we know it! Unnatural! Depraved!" He pulled a long face and stroked an imaginary beard with feigned agitation in a clever imitation of a horrified elder of
any
race.