Traitor to the Blood

CHAPTER TWELVE

Wynn dressed as Tomato and Potato wrestled on the rumpled bedcovers. The door was ajar, and Chap was gone. She gathered up the kittens and headed downstairs.

The common room was empty except for Clover Roll, curled on a table near the window. A strange rattling came from the kitchen, so Wynn set the kittens down and pushed aside the doorway curtain.

Magiere and Leesil rummaged about, gathering sausages and hard biscuits and tea leaves. Their hair was in loose disarray, and Magiere's muslin shirt hung out of her breeches. Chap whined as he paced and wove between them, getting in the way more than anything else. A late night and morning had made them all miss breakfast, but Chap's exaggerated complaints were far too dramatic.

"Did you see Byrd when you came down?" Magiere asked.

"No," Wynn replied. "Have you been up long?"

"Not long," Leesil said, and placed a kettle on an iron hook arm above the hearth's embers.

Physically he looked improved. His eyes were no longer bloodshot but still held a hint of the haunted withdrawal that Wynn had observed since the night of Faris's visit. Something in the Mondyalitko's words had upset Leesil, even horrified him, but Wynn hesitated to ask.

And it unnerved her that Byrd was suddenly missing.

Leesil should pay more heed to her concerns about that man's involvement with the anmaglahk. He did not seem to understand what would happen to the common people if Darmouth were assassinated.

"Do you suppose Byrd might…?" Wynn began, then thought better of it. Byrd would hardly be meeting with the elves in broad daylight. "So what do we do for today?"

Leesil glanced her way and then returned to staring at the kettle not yet boiling.

Wynn immediately regretted asking. He wanted a course of action to follow but objected to all of their suggestions. And she feared her sympathy would only make him feel worse. Magiere dropped a few sausages into the iron pan settled among the hearth's coals, and they began to sizzle. The smell made Wynn slightly nauseous.

"You had the only option last night," Magiere said. "Take the vampire's head to Darmouth for bounty."

Leesil's face clouded. Any denial he was about to spit out was lost as Byrd swatted the doorway curtain aside and stepped in.

"You won't need it," he said. "Darmouth wants to see you-now. He wants a report about last night. The dead woman was the mistress of Lord Geyren, a younger noble growing in favor."

"Why?" Leesil asked, and his tone was cold. "Geyren's men were there, as well as two city soldiers. There's nothing Magiere can add that they haven't already reported."

Byrd shook his head. "He wants to hear about the hunt itself. That's all I know."

"Very well," Magiere said. "Back in Bela, even Councilman Lanjov wanted word on our progress. And he couldn't stand being in the same room with us."

"That's not all he's after, I'll wager," Leesil said, and closed his eyes. "You don't know who you're dealing with."

Wynn had no wish to cause Leesil distress, but it was he who did not understand. She had no intention of leaving Venjetz until they knew what Byrd was planning.

"There are two choices," she said. "Continue the search, which means getting back into the keep, or leave for the mountains to find a way to the elven lands."

Wynn expected Leesil to lose his temper again over her so bluntly stating the obvious. It seemed the best way to force him to choose, instead of resisting every suggestion.

Leesil slumped as he covered his face with one hand.

Wynn almost choked for what she had just done and looked to Magiere with silent regret for hurting Leesil further. Wynn expected little more than Magiere's fury, and this time felt she deserved it.

Magiere simply frowned and nodded her understanding.

Chap licked Leesil's hanging hand and barked once, confirming Wynn's words. Leesil slid his palm over the dog's head.

"You want to go back in?" he asked.

Chap again barked once.

Magiere pulled Leesil's other hand from his face and gripped it tightly. "Can you give us any plan, any ruse to try? Once we're inside, are there people to speak with, bribe"-she shrugged-"threaten?'

"No," Leesil said, but he appeared to be thinking. "Servants and guards won't know anything and couldn't be bribed anyway. Darmouth holds something over everyone he keeps close, like Faris or Omasta. Nothing you'd offer could outweigh that."

"Well, then," Wynn said as the smoky smell filling the room began to sting her nose. "We will have to find an opportunity once we are inside."

Byrd had remained silent throughout this exchange, but now added his own admonishment. "And you're forgetting one thing, lad. If Magiere doesn't report, Darmouth will simply send soldiers to retrieve her. He's given an order, and she has to go."

"I know that!" Leesil glared at him. "And I haven't forgotten that you talked her into-"

Chap bellowed, turned a quick circle, and shoved his way between Magiere and Leesil to the kitchen hearth. A yowl followed, and Wynn stood upright, wondering if he was hurt. Both Magiere and Leesil looked at the dog.

Smoke billowed into the chimney from out of the pan on the embers. The stench burned Wynn's nose. She barely made out the blackened shrivels of sausage remains in the pan.

Chap let out an angry series of yips as he shuffled before the hearth.

"Oh, stop it!" Magiere snapped at the dog, and pulled Leesil toward the curtained doorway. "Come and help me get ready. Wynn, get your cloak and your pack. We'll meet you back here."

"My good pan!" Byrd growled, and rushed for the hearth.

He grabbed an iron poker and speared the pan's handle loop. When he lifted the pan, it toppled to dangle from the poker's end. The sausages' charred remains tumbled into the coals with a sizzle and puff of ashes.

"You people are the worst patrons I ever took in for nothing," Byrd grumbled.

Chap whimpered and shoved his head into the hearth. He began hacking and sneezing with smoke billowing around his face. Wynn grabbed his haunches and jerked him back.

"Both of you be quiet!" she shouted, and grabbed Chap's muzzle in one hand. "And you-stop acting like a drunkard at the bottom of an empty keg!"

She snatched a hard biscuit off the table and shoved it into Chap's jaws. Chap bit it in half and spit the pieces on the floor.

"Fine," Wynn said. "Then go hungry."

She stomped out of the kitchen and did not slow until she reached the upper hallway and the door to her room. Across the way, the door to Leesil and Magiere's room was shut tight.

Magiere wanted Leesil alone for a moment, and Wynn understood. She slipped into her own room to bundle up for winter weather. She was pulling on her gloves when the door opened and Leesil stepped in. He held two small daggers in makeshift sheaths, each with dual straps attached.

"Give me your arms," he said.

"Where did you get those?"

"I bought the makings back in Soladran," he answered. "I pieced them together the night we stayed in the barracks. Now give me your arms."

Wynn was uncertain. Leesil pushed up her coat sleeves and began strapping the sheaths to her forearms, the dagger hilts held downward toward her palms. He pulled her sleeves down to cover them.

"Reach across for one," he said, "or fold your hands into your sleeves against the cold to grab both. Don't do it until the last moment, or you'll lose the advantage of surprise."

Wynn looked up at his tan face and amber eyes. His concern touched her, and she leaned her head against his chest.

"We will be fine," she whispered. "You will see us soon."

Leesil closed his arms around her shoulders, holding her rightly.

"Am I interrupting?"

Wynn stiffened and lifted her head.

Magiere leaned against the doorframe with arms folded, her hair pulled back with a leather thong. Her hauberk was buckled down over her thick wool pullover, and the falchion was strapped to her waist. Hood down, her cloak was pushed back off her shoulders.

"Or should I come back later?" she added.

There was no anger in her voice and her serious expression was marred by one cocked eyebrow. When it came to Leesil's affection, Magiere had nothing to fear from Wynn. She had nothing to fear from anyone. Leesil had eyes only for her. Magiere's humor was as caustic as everything else about her.

Wynn blushed, quickly holding out her arms to divert attention. "Look what he did."

"I know," Magiere replied. "I suggested it. You ready?"

Wynn nodded. She grabbed her pack loaded with scholar's wares to maintain the front they had first established in Darmouth's presence. When they returned to the common room, Chap paced before the bar, still whining. Leesil opened the front door and remained there as Magiere led the way down the street. No one said good-bye.

Wynn pulled her hood forward and lowered her head a little against the cold breeze. They walked without speaking, Chap trotting beside her. He finally quit mourning the loss of his sausages.

Wynn barely noticed the city around her until the keep appeared ahead between the buildings. They passed a few soldiers loitering in the street near a dry-goods shop. Magiere glanced at them and kept on walking. She had not bothered to pull up her cloaks hood, and Wynn wondered how she could stand the cold.

They passed more soldiers milling about. Rather than patrolling, they stood outside of homes and taverns as if they had nothing better to do.

Magiere reached the crossing of Favor's Row and stopped. Ahead of them, Lieutenant Omasta waited in the archway of the bridge gatehouse. No soldiers accompanied him, but three came slowly down Favor's Row from the right.

Magiere remained still, and Wynn wondered at the delay. Omasta waved them forward, and Chap growled.

''Start backing up," Magiere whispered.

Wynn stepped up next to her. "Bur…?"

Magiere was expressionless. Snowflakes landing upon her pale race seemed to disappear before melting.

"We run," Magiere said quietly. "Find a place to hide until dark and make your way back to Byrd's."

Wynn glanced back the way they had come.

Two cross streets back, the soldiers who had been hanging about only moments before now walked toward them at a quick pace. One drew his shortsword. Lieutenant Omasta stepped off the bridges end onto the cobblestones, walking casually toward them.

"It's all right," he called out. "My lord wishes to speak with you."

Wynn knew right then he was lying.

Magiere jerked out her falchion. "Wynn, to your left. They don't want you."

"But what about-"

"Run!"

Chap snarled, spinning about to face behind them.

Wynn bolted to the left down Favor's Row. She ran as fast as her short legs could without slipping on frozen cobblestones. She glanced back once over her shoulder.

Magiere headed the other way toward three soldiers charging to meet her. Chap was close behind her.

Wynn looked ahead and veered toward the first street away from the lakeside. She turned the corner and slammed straight into something.

Hard bumps ground against her face and forehead on impact. She recoiled and stumbled, barely keeping her footing. All she saw for a moment was a wide torso covered by a studded breastplate of hardened leather.

"Where you goin", girl?"

The soldier was more than a head taller than Wynn. A cap of quilted wool with earflaps covered his head and framed a square face of ruddy windburned cheeks and beard stubble. His eyes looked too small for his face. Another came up behind him.

All Wynn could think to do was scream out, "Magiere! Chap!"

"Not gonna happen," the soldier said, and grabbed the front of her coat.

Wynn gripped his wrist with both hands, trying to pull him off. He jerked hard, curling his arm, and spun her around. Her pack ended up crushed against his chest. He closed his other arm around her, and the ground dropped from under her feet as she was lifted.

Wynn's arms were pinned and she kicked wildly, but the soldier's hold would not give. She felt something grinding through her coat's bulk and her short robe into her ribs.

A dagger-the one on her left wrist.

"Be still, you little whelp," the soldier warned. "Malik, get over here and grab those legs."

Wynn focused on only two things. She pushed panic aside and folded her left leg up high. She kicked sharply downward.

Her boot heel ground down the soldier's thigh and hit sharply on his kneecap. His leg buckled, and he barked out a curse. When her feet touched down, she thrashed free of his grip, but he grabbed the pack before she could get clear.

Wynn slipped her arms from its straps and reached up her left sleeve. As her hand closed on the dagger's hilt, a booted foot struck her hard between the shoulder blades.

She toppled forward and slid. Her right cheek grated across the street's cold stones. Panic took hold as she scrambled to her knees, swinging blindly back with the dagger.

Its tip grated along a leather hauberk instead of a breastplate. The second soldier half crouched above her. His eyes widened at the blade's passing, and he lashed out with his hand.

His palm cracked against the side of Wynn's face, and her head whipped sideways. Wynn's vision turned white, and she vaguely heard a metallic clatter.

She lay facedown in the street, but the white still blurred her vision like a blizzard enveloping the world. What little she made out looked as flat as a picture-her left eye would not focus at all.

Something thin and biting circled her wrists. A sharp pain in both

Wynn's shoulders cut through the dull ache in her head and eye, as her arms were pinned back and tied.

"Lucky day, girlie," came a voice she barely heard. "We're supposed to bring you in one piece."

Wynn's arms jerked upward, her shoulders twisting back as she came off the ground. She exhaled sharply. Her feet dragged on the stones as she was carried away.

"You half-wits!" someone shouted. "You were to stay out of sight until they were on the bridge."

It took all Wynn's strength to turn her head. She looked up with only her right eye.

Lieutenant Omasta glared down Favor's Row and slowly shook his head. Wynn tried to focus.

Bodies lay in the street. Soldiers were Wynn's best guess. Magiere and Chap were gone. They had escaped-and she was alone.

Wynn could not feel afraid. She was too tired. She wished the soldier would just drop her so she could sleep on the cold stone. She remembered Leesil holding her as she told him that everything would be fine.

Omasta turned about and looked down at Wynn. "Take her in and wait for me. The rest of your contingent had better bring that hunter back."

Wynn's head sagged. A salty taste filled her slack mouth, and every few paces a dark red droplet spattered on the snow-dusted stones of the keep's bridge.

Magiere heard Wynn cry out. She faltered in her flight and stopped to look back. Chap whirled about as well.

Three soldiers closed behind them. Three more were coming out ahead. Magiere couldn't see Wynn, and anguish only made her furious that she'd led the young sage into this trap.

Chap lunged back down the road toward the trailing soldiers.

"No!" Magiere shouted.

The dog skidded to a halt with an angry snarl.

"We can't help her if we're caught," Magiere said.

Chap barked twice in denial, but he turned back, lunging ahead of her toward the soldiers in their path. Magiere rushed after him.

The soldiers were fully focused on her, and the first was caught by surprise when Chap grazed his leg in passing. The man stumbled sideways, and Magiere slashed into his side with the falchion as she passed She didn't look back to see if he went down. The next two slowed.

Chap swerved right, snapping and snarling as he passed one soldier's flank. The man spun about at the dog's circling attack, and Magiere charged straight for his companion.

Every fast breath Magiere took fanned her hunger. She no longer felt the cold. Her opponent cocked back his shortsword, and Magiere swung downward while still running. For that instant the soldier seemed to slow in her vision, yet her own movements retained speed.

The shortsword had barely finished half its swing when Magiere's falchion collided with it. His force seemed weak, and Magiere's strike broke through his guard. The falchion's curved end bit through his hauberk's shoulder, and he crumpled. She turned away before he hit the ground.

Chap's jaws were clamped on the third soldier's ankle. He set all fours and jerked backward. The soldier slipped and fell, his boot tearing between Chap's teeth.

The soldier's skullcap helmet clanked on the stone. Magiere kicked his head as she passed, and his body spun a quarter turn on the cobblestones. He went still, arms splayed out like a rag doll's. Chap pulled in beside Magiere as she ran on, with the trailing soldiers closing from behind.

Chap rushed ahead and swerved down the first side street, and Magiere followed. The dog turned again into an alley. He wove his way between the crates and barrels, and Magiere toppled as many as she could in her passing to slow their pursuers. A few steps ahead she spotted a half-open door in a building of weather-bleached planks.

"Here!" she shouted at Chap.

The dog spun around, running back. He leaped through the opening, and she followed, slamming the door behind. She quickly heaved a pivoting wood bar into its braces, sealing the door.

"Help! Murder!" someone screamed.

Magiere flattened her back against the door.

A portly woman holding a dripping ladle stood gasping in wide-eyed panic near a small stone hearth. Brown stew bubbled within a cast-iron pot hanging over the weak flames, and spatters of" the same color stained the woman's greasy apron. There were stacks of tin and wood plates and mugs on a squat side table, and crates of potatoes were piled in the corner under plucked chickens dangling from wall hooks. Magiere was in a back scullery and kitchen.

"No," she said, lowering the falchion. "Ma'am, be quiet.'

She must look horrifying to a commoner, rushing in armed with a large dog at her side. Magiere put one finger to her lips. The squat woman stared at her with wide round eyes.

The door bucked against Magiere's back as something struck it from outside. The woman screamed again.

Magiere shoved past her, kicking open the far plank door. She ran out and startled a skinny girl with a haggard face carrying a wooden tray of brimming tankards. Magiere stood in the common room of a small tavern. Clusters of townsfolk stared at her in surprise as another squealing scream came from the kitchen.

"Murder!"

The skinny girl stumbled, and the tray of tankards toppled to the floor with a splashing clatter. A stocky man in a floppy leather cap stood up in alarm.

Chap lunged out before Magiere, letting out a deep snarl. His muzzle and teeth were stained with blood.

"Wolf!" cried the stocky man.

Patrons toppled drink and food, chairs and tables, as they scrambled in any direction away from the dog. This left a clear path to the front door, and Chap raced for it as Magiere realized what he'd done. She slammed her palm into the chest of the man in the cap, knocking him aside as she followed the dog.

She stopped briefly in the street to look both ways. Another soldier rounded the far right corner, coming straight for her with his shortsword out. He was young, probably less than twenty years.

He came at her too fast, and she sidestepped him neatly. As he passed, she slammed the butt of her sword into the back of his head. He went down face-first in a crumpled heap and didn't move. Hunger worked its way throughout Magiere's body, building to an ache in her jaws.

Chap barked, and she spotted him across the street before a set of wide doors. She joined him, jerking one door open, and they both hur-ried inside. She hadn't seen any other soldiers in the street, but some townsfolk across the way had surely watched out the windows. They would point out where a "wolf" and a fleeing woman had gone. She looked about her new surroundings.

A long row of stalls ran down one side, and near the doors was a ladder up to an overhead loft. At the stable's far end were bundles of dried hay. She didn't see a rear door, but there was a wide window with shutters closed and barred from the inside.

A soft whine from Chap echoed through the stable. Magiere glanced about but didn't see him. He whined again, and she followed his sound to the back and around behind the hay. He scratched at the dirt floor.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, but words felt difficult in her mouth. "We have to go."

A straight crack in the floor appeared where Chap clawed. He kept at it, and exposed a thin rope loop. Magiere grabbed it and pulled. A hatch opened, spilling back loose hay and dirt. Magiere hesitated for two breaths.

She stepped to the window, lifted the bar and tossed it away, then slapped the shutters wide. When she turned back to the floor hatch, Chap had shoved a hay bundle over to rest against the hatch's top. Magiere pulled the hatch up halfway. Chap wriggled through the opening and disappeared. She followed and dropped down into the dark. The hatch slammed shut under the weight of the hay bundle.

Anyone following in haste wouldn't see the line in the floor beneath the hay… but would see an open window. A risky gamble, but better than trying to outrun Darmouth's soldiers through streets she didn't know.

The cellar-or whatever purpose this pit served-was empty except for two large barrels near a ladder she hadn't seen before jumping in. Magiere moved to the back to crouch and wait with Chap.

Her teeth still hurt, and she was so angry over losing Wynn that her dhampir half wouldn't recede. She tried to breathe quietly and push the anger down.

Loud voices and footsteps burst into the stable above. Magiere closed her eyes and tried to block out the shouts overhead. Musk and leather, sweat and lingering beer or ale filled her nostrils beneath the scent of dirt, hay, and horse manure.

"Quiet!" someone yelled as a pair of heavy boots stepped through the stable above.

It was Omasta's voice. There were perhaps three or four men with him, by the different positions of shifting feet that Magiere heard. A lighter set of footsteps followed.

"Can't your men follow simple orders?"

Faris.

Chap rumbled once softly.

"That's none of your concern," Omasta fired back.

"Yes, this was your task, not mine," Faris answered. "And all you have to show for your bungling is one little scholar, who may mean nothing to the half-blood. You can explain that to Lord Darmouth, and not I."

Another set of footsteps ran in. "She's not in the alley, sir."

"Well, look again!" Omasta answered. "It's clear she climbed out the back window. Spread out and search the connecting streets, as she can't have gotten far. I will go to our lord. The rest of you keep hunting until I send word otherwise."

A dull thunder of footsteps headed toward the stable doors. Magiere remained crouched in the darkness with Chap.

Faris knew about Leesil, and though she wondered how, there was no doubt that he'd told Darmouth. She shivered with a need to run to Leesil, and flattened her palms on the dirt floor to get up.

Chap stepped down on her hand with his paw, growling softly in warning.

Magiere settled back. They had to wait for darkness and hope it was not too late.

Hedi spent the morning in Korey's room.

At breakfast she had asked Julia for brightly colored yarn and needles. She went up to teach the girl some basic knitting. Korey was so excited by this new project she could barely sit still at first. She finally settled down, and the hours passed quickly as they chatted and worked.

Past noon, Julie came with a tray. She was shocked to see Hedi sitting on the bed with Korey. "My lady…"

Clearly Hedi was not supposed to be here, but Julia would not dare give orders to anyone of favor or nobility.

"Don't leave," Korey said to Hedi. "Please."

Julia's mouth opened and closed, and suddenly she looked frightened

Hedi had no wish to cause a simpleminded servant unnecessary trouble. She stood and picked up her sewing bag.

"I have some things to attend to," she told Korey. "But I will see you tomorrow. We can play at cards again."

Korey's face fell, and she shot Julia a glowering pout. Hedi kissed her on the head and swept past Julia out of the room.

She went to eat her own lunch, and stayed in the meal hall to work on the embroidered pillowcase. Working with her needle, she busied her thoughts with how she might get a message to Byrd, but all possibilities seemed blocked. She considered bribing Julia to carry a note, but if by chance the woman agreed and then faltered in any way, the repercussions would be disasterous-and brutal for Julia.

Heavy boots on stone echoed in from the entryway outside the meal hall. Hedi set down her work and stepped to the archway to see what the commotion was about.

Omasta was there and looked both angered and worried. He was always on edge, like all those around his pig of a master, but he looked more troubled than ever before.

Two soldiers followed him in, dragging a young woman in a sheepskin coat by her bound arms. One of them limped and clutched a canvas pack in his free hand. They dropped the woman, and she landed with her cheek flattened to the floor. The limping soldier dumped the pack's contents out, and Omasta watched impatiently as his men rummaged through the woman's belongings.

There were small roles of parchments bound with string, two leather-bound journals, and some charcoal and quills. A small bottle of ink cracked open on the floor.

The woman, or perhaps girl, was small, with olive-toned skin uncommon for the people here. Her eyes were closed. The left side of her face was reddened and swollen, including her left eye. Her slack lips were bloodstained on the left side.

Parchment, books, and quills-a scribe, perhaps? No, even a journeyman of that profession would have found a place to settle and ply her skills. And what would Omasta want with a scribe badly enough to have her beaten, bound, and searched?

Some type of scholar seemed the only other possibility, but such were rarer than an act of kindness in the Warlands. In Hedi's limited travels with Emel, she had met only two, and both were in service to noble houses. Even an apprentice would be under the guidance of a master, so why was this one dressed for the winter travel… and so young?

"Where's that pasty-skinned hunter?" Darmouth boomed.

He stepped from the counsel hall across the way, a tall pewter tankard in his grip. Hedi ducked back a step.

Darmouth's breastplate was recently oiled and cleaned, and he looked freshly shaved. Omasta stood at attention, but Hedi noted no fear in his eyes. Rather, he expressed deep regret. Hedi had never seen this in anyone facing Darmouth's anger. Omasta genuinely did not wish to disappoint his lord. She could not imagine what would foster such a willing sense of duty to this tyrant.

"She escaped, my lord," Omasta said. "The men closed in too soon. But the search continues, and we may yet find her. I'll keep the men at it, even into the night."

Darmouth's eyelids drooped halfway as he stared at Omasta for a long moment, but there was none of the brutal anger he showed to others who failed him. He stepped forward to stand over the small woman and hooked his boot toe under her shoulder to flip her over.

"Where would Magiere hide from my men?" he asked.

The girl did not respond and simply lay prone below him. Darmouth poured the tankard over her face.

She choked on the foaming liquid filling her mouth. Her head rolled, and only her right eye blinked to clear the fluid.

"Magiere," Darmouth repeated, "where is she?"

"I do not know," the woman mumbled. She tried to shake her head, but the gesture was feeble.

Darmouth's expression darkened. He lifted his boot over the woman's face.

"My lord!" Hedi shouted, and stepped into view. "She is a scholar, not just some commoner."

It was a desperate guess, and all Hedi could think of to halt any further abuse.

Darmouth lowered his foot at the sight of Hedi. He swallowed hard and took a deep, slow breath, perhaps not wishing to appear the beast that he was in front of her. In any other moment Hedi would have found this sickeningly humorous. She consoled herself: As long as Byrd breathed, one day this tyrant would choke and squirm in his own blood.

Darmouth glanced down at the young woman, then back to Hedi.

"Of course," he answered, and turned to Omasta. "Secure this prisoner in a room on the first level-not the lower cells-and put a guard on the door. I'll speak to her later, when…"

He trailed off, watching Hedi. The rest of his orders were not for her ears. He headed back into the counsel hall, motioning Omasta to follow. Omasta nodded to his men and joined his lord.

Hedi had no doubt that Darmouth would order Omasta to organize a raid on Byrd's inn.

The girl on the floor slowly rolled her head to look at Hedi with her good eye. One soldier shoved her belongings back into the pack, and both hoisted her up by the shoulders and dragged her up the stairs.

Hedi followed from a distance.

The guards took their prisoner up the stairs and down the corridor of the second level. Hedi watched long enough to see which room they placed her in. One remained outside the door. Hedi hurried quietly up the stairs to her own room. Once inside she could not sit still, and paced the floor.

A fire burned in the small hearth. She looked about at the cherry-wood desk and wardrobe and the thick quilt upon her bed. Darmouth took pains to have this room made comfortable for her. Such thoughts made her hate the surroundings even more. The same man thought nothing of stepping on the face of a helpless girl for answers she might not even have.

Hedi did not know why she had put herself at risk for this stranger. It was a foolish act that gained her nothing.

"Mrowr."

The sound was so soft that Hedi was not certain she had heard it until scratches followed outside her door. What was a cat doing inside the keep?

She twisted the latch, opened the door, and a dark little form bolted around her skirt into the room. Hedi twisted about.

A small, brown-black cat, with eyes of matching color and a bobbed tail, hopped up on the bed. It stared back at her and let out a soft "purr."

In spite of everything Hedi had just witnessed, she almost smiled. "There are wolfhounds below, you little fool. How did you get in here?"

Perhaps a soldier or servant had brought it in to hunt vermin in the lower levels, but this one looked too small for such a task. It was barely beyond a kitten. Firelight glimmered off the fur across its ears and face.

Hedi approached the foot of the bed, reaching out. "Very well, come here. I will have Julia fetch some milk. If you are lucky, there might even be cream."

A ripple swelled through the cat's shoulders.

Hedi jerked her hand back.

A larger swell passed down its back as it craned its neck and crouched low. It issued a grating yowl, digging its claws into the bedcovers as its eyes rolled up in its head.

Hedi backed away as the cat flopped on the quilt, twitching.

Its face flattened and its round muzzle collapsed inward upon a skull that bloated from within. Shoulders widened to grotesque misshapen mounds about its thickening neck. Black-brown fur thinned, and pale flesh showed beneath. Forelegs elongated. Ears shriveled inward around its stretching face. Eyes rolled back down and irises shrank, as its whole body began to grow in size…

Hedi almost cried out as she whipped around, lunging for the door.

"Hello!" a small voice called.

She sucked in a breath she could not let out, and flattened her back against the door.

Sitting in the middle of her bed was a naked little girl with dark eyes and skin and long wavy hair.

"It's me," Korey said with a giggle, then waved happily at Hedi.

Hedi panted in short breaths as she slumped to the floor, unable to even blink.

Korey crawled off the bed's side and dropped to the floor in her bare feet… bare everything. She started to run across the room but stopped and smothered another giggle with her hand.

"Whoops! I forgot again," she said, and with a sigh scurried back to pull at the quilt with all her strength. "My clothes don't come with me "

Hedi tried to speak. "H-how…"

Korey struggled to pull the quilt around herself. It was too big, and half of it wrapped around the bedpost. She stopped struggling long enough to look at Hedi.

"Papa taught me," she said, as if it were obvious.

"Your father… taught you that?" Hedi whispered.

"Uh-huh. Mama can do it too… I think, but I've never seen it. Papa can do great big ones, when he wants." Korey frowned and tried to look over her shoulder at her own bare buttocks. "But I can't get the tail. Just a stubby thing!"

As a child, Hedi had heard stories of shifters. Most were too wild to be anything but superstitious nonsense, folklore forgotten as the fancies of youth.

"Can… can all your people do this?" she asked.

Korey finally heaved the quilt free and wrapped it about herself, but most of it dragged across the floor as she came to plop down before Hedi.

"Papa says some, but not all. It's a family thing. Mama says Auntie Balalee-I never met her yet-sees things that aren't there but are somewhere else. I don't understand that part. Are you sick?"

"Sick?" Hedi's breathing slowed, but her heart still pounded against her ribs. "No, I… I am fine."

She touched the ribbon about her throat. Faris could turn himself into a great cat, perhaps something like a mountain lion. It was no wonder that Darmouth wanted control over this family of Mondyalitko. Her heart tightened in fear for little Korey.

"You should not be here," Hedi said. "What if Julia finds you gone from your room?"

Korey shrugged and rolled her eyes. "She won't come till dinner; then she'll just leave the tray. No one ever comes to visit but you. You like to be with me. Mama and Papa love me… but you like to be with me."

Hedi took a deep breath and let it out. "Oh, Korey."

Hedi's own mother had liked nothing better than to visit with her daughters, play at cards, and braid their hair, even late into the night. Hedi never realized the wonder of a mother's companionship until it was gone. And Korey's own parents were never allowed that close to her for too long.

Hedi did not like using a child, but unless Darmouth was assassinated, Korey would grow up trapped here, until he used her like her parents-or killed her. Korey did not appear to know of the lost sibling that Ventina had viciously hinted at. If Byrd was not warned, he would be arrested, and everything they had worked for would be lost, even the life and future of this girl. And it appeared Darmouth did not know Korey shared her parents' ability, or he would have taken extra precautions with the child.

She grasped Korey's shoulders. "Lord Darmouth has captured a young woman and locked her in a room one floor below us. He calls us guests, but that is a lie. I am a prisoner here-as are you. Do you understand that?"

Korey pulled back suspiciously. "Papa says we aren't supposed to talk about that."

Hedi felt a twinge of guilt, but there was too much at stake to stop now. "Your father is afraid of Lord Darmouth, and he should be. You are a good girl for your papa, but I must get a message to a friend in the city, or we could all… get hurt, including your parents. Can you sneak out as a cat and take it to where I tell you? Stay in the shadows on the bridge, and you will be small and dark enough that no one will notice."

"I don't know the city. I've never been," Korey said, and now she looked frightened. "I'd get lost! But you know the city, and you could do it."

Hedi released Korey's shoulders, sinking limply back against the door. "Lord Darmouth will never let me out. You have to-"

"I can show you," Korey said, and grabbed Hedi's hand. Unfortunately, this caused the quilt to slide off and she was once again naked. Hedi pulled the quilt up as Korey leaned forward, whispering. "You don't talk to me like everybody else, like I'm too young… too stupid. I know things! Papa tells me."

Hedi sat upright. "What things?"

"One time Papa played a trick on Julia and Devid when Lord Darmouth was gone away. He put stuff in their food, and they went to sleep. Julia snores like a dog! Papa said when they woke up, they wouldn't tell or they'd get in trouble for sleeping. He told me to change into a cat, and hid me in a big sack, and took me down and down under the keep, with places like cages with iron bars for doors, and showed me a piece of wall…"

Korey paused to catch her breath.

"We went through it and found a thing he called a 'portal', and he opened it. He showed me, and he said, 'Just in case'. Then we hurried real fast to get me back to my room. He told me if I went through the portal door, I'd find a secret to take me to the woods way over on the other side of the lake."

Hedi remained as calm as she could. If Korey's tale was true…

This was more than a way to send Byrd a warning. Could it be what they had spent years searching for-a way to breach the keep? How could she get into the lower levels? She had seen guards at every post that might lead below.

"Korey, what is down there? How could I get across the lake to the woods?"

Before Korey could speak, a knock sounded on the door.

"Quick," Hedi said, and lifted the quilt off Korey. "Under the bed."

Korey scurried away on all fours and wriggled out of sight, and Hedi spread the quilt roughly over the bed. She returned to the door and opened it a fraction.

A middle-aged guard stood before her in the corridor. He looked distraught.

"Forgive my disturbing you, lady," he said. "Baron Milea has arrived and is waiting in the meal hall. Our lord sent word last night that you wished to see the baron. But all this happened before-"

"Before today's commotion," Hedi finished for him.

"Yes, my lady. Our lord has granted the baron a short visit."

"Thank you. I will be down in a moment."

She closed the door and rushed to the cherry-wood desk, grabbing a scrap of parchment and a feather quill.

"Korey, come out," she said, and dipped the quill in the inkwell, scribbling a note. "You must get back to your room quickly. Wait… how did you open and close the door with paws instead of hands?"

Korey scoffed with a roll of her eyes. "I don't do it while I'm a cat! I take my clothes off in my room, wait till no one's in the hall, then go out and change. No one notices a cat around here cause they're supposed to be catching rats and mice."

Hedi shook her head. If only she had met this little one years ago. "Hurry back to your room. Julia may be there soon with your dinner. I will come for you later, and you can show me how to find this portal."

"I'll wait up for you," Korey agreed.

Hedi fought down guilt again. What she did was for the sake of her people-her lost mother and sisters, and her father, and even for Korey.

"Good girl," she said. "Now, change."

Korey's body began to shrink, darkening with fur that sprouted from her soft skin.

Hedi watched the reverse process with fascination instead of horror.

When it was complete, she cracked the door open, and Korey, the little black-brown cat, scurried out and down the corridor. She closed the door and folded the note she had written until it fit into the palm of her hand. When enough time passed that Korey would be well on her way, Hedi left and went down to the meal hall.

Emel stood within the archway in his green tunic and watched her enter. She almost smiled at the sight of his face. Then she saw Darmouth standing further into the hall.

"My lady," he said, and the tone made her feel like property.

She ignored him and held out her hands to Emel in greeting. Confusion replaced the sadness in his eyes as he returned her polite gesture, taking hands. His brow creased when he felt the folded paper she pressed into his palm.

"It is good to see you," he said calmly. "Lord Darmouth tells me you left unfinished business at the Bronze Bell?"

"Yes, I have not paid Mistress Dauczeck at the dressmaker's. It is two streets west of the inn. She will be waiting for the coins. Also, I never got to the letter for your sister regarding plans for the winter feast. Would you see to that for me?"

Emel nodded politely.

The following moments of inane chatter were torture, standing so close to him. Hedi wanted to touch him and to ask how he was or assure him of her treatment. Darmouth remained vigilant at the rear of the hall. When she ran out of conversation and imaginary tasks for Emel, Darmouth became restless and approached.

"Is that all?" he asked.

She could think of nothing else. The note in Emel's hand was urgent, and hopefully he would understand and follow her instructions. She studied his reddish hair and kind eyes, wishing she were leaving with him.

"Then I've other matters," Darmouth said. "You're dismissed, Emel."

He crossed his arms over his breastplate. Emel nodded his good-bye to Hedi, his subtle sadness returning, and left the meal hall.

Hedi was left angry and adrift as she heard the entryway door clunk shut. It strained her to remain polite and submissive in Darmouth's close presence.

"Perhaps you think me harsh," he said, "to lock up that scholar."

Neither denial nor confirmation would please him, so she remained silent.

"Your scholar girl is bait for a dangerous criminal," he continued. "Another traitor to be dealt with. You even know something of him, as I suspect you've never lost interest in what happened to your father."

Hedi was now confused. She remained passive, and answered truthfully, "I do not understand, my lord."

"His name is Leesil," Darmouth answered slowly. "Son of my former servants, Gavril and his elven wife, Nein'a, who betrayed me."

He looked her up and down, watching for her reaction-or something else. She wanted to spit bile in his face.

"I do not understand," she repeated, doe-eyed.

"That half-blood drove the stiletto through the back of your father's skull while he slept."