Roberson, Jennifer - Cheysuli 07 (10 page)

 
          
"Then
why did you summon me?"

 
          
Aidan
shook his head. "I did not summon you. A man cannot summon a dream… nor
can he raise the dead."

 
          
"But
I am there, in your hand." Shaine pointed precisely. "The chain,
Aidan; that link. I explained it all to you once, must I explain it all
again?"

 
          
Aidan
looked at the link clutched in his hand. His fingers tightened on it. If, in
his twisted dream, this link was Shaine, who were the others?

 
          
But
he banished the question at once; Shaine was his concern. "Begone,"
he said tautly. "I want none of you."

 
          
Gray
eyes glittered. "But I am
in
you, Aidan. All of us are."

 
          
Aidan
threw down the chain. Shaine disappeared.

 
          
The
tremor ran through his body. It convulsed legs, arms, neck, then snatched at
lax control. He felt the spasm, the jerk, then the sudden cessation of
movement. He lay limply on the ground, sprawled in broken foliage now compressed
beneath his body.

 
          
What
—? he asked vaguely, numb with
disorientation.

 
          
"
Shansu
," a voice said quietly.
"Let the world settle."

 
          
Aidan
had little choice. For the moment he knew nothing of who he was or where he
was, or what had happened to him. Only that somehow—
how
?—he had come to be lying on his back on the ground.

 
          
"
Shansu
," the voice repeated.
"I would be the last to harm you."

 
          
Who
—? Aidan forced open eyes. Dazzled,
he stared blindly up at the pewter-gray sky screened by a lattice of limbs, and
recalled he was in the wood.

 
          
Not
inside a ruined chapel with a dead Mujhar standing before him.

 
          
Consciousness
solidified. "Teel," he managed aloud, groping through the link for
familiar reassurance.

 
          
There
was nothing. Nothing. No Teel. No link. Only the absence of everything, as if
he had been emptied.

 
          
"Teel!"

 
          
The
spasm returned in full force, this time prompted by the frantic flailing of his
limbs. He still had no control, but this time he was the cause.

 
          
A
hand touched his brow and pressed him gently against the ground. "
Shansu
." A third time. "Your
lir
is safe, I promise. I only sent him
ahead. Clankeep is not so far… unless, of course, I have misreckoned the
distance." The tone was wry. "That is possible, I suppose; I am not
accustomed to human time divisions, or distances reckoned as leagues. Still, as
the raven flies…" Now the tone was amused.

 
          
"Who—?"
Aidan squinted.

 
          
The
hand was cool on his brow. "For now, it makes no difference. I have a
name, aye, but we do not bestow them on men, who cannot deal with the power
held in a true name. If you like, you may call me the Hunter; it will do as
well as my real one, which means very much the same."

 
          
Another one
, Aidan thought dimly.
First the one calls himself Shaine, and now
this
one
… It drifted away on a wisp
of disbelief. He would not allow himself. Self-possession was the key, if he
was to survive.

 
          
Aidan
licked dry lips. "I came off my horse."

 
          
"Most
dramatically. Unlike you, the horse is unhurt." The voice was amused.

 
          
Aidan
focused with effort. Now he could see someone. A man, kneeling by his side. A
brown
man: hair, skin, eyes, leathers,
all degrees of peat-brown, as if he hid himself in the wood—or, Aidan thought
dimly, as if he was
of
the wood. Not
old, not young, but in between; a score of years older than Aidan, a score
younger than Niall. Dark eyes were kind, but compelling.

 
          
Something
in Aidan answered. "You are Cheysuli—?" But he broke it off almost at
once. "No—no, of course not… how could I think such a thing?"

 
          
The
Hunter smiled. "There is Cheysuli in me. Or, to be precise: there is
me
in Cheysuli."

 
          
For
a man only recently revived from unconsciousness—and with an aching head—it was
much too confusing. Very like his meeting with Shaine, which, Aidan was
certain, came as reaction to the fall. "Let me sit—
aghh
—"

 
          
"Perhaps
not," the Hunter said mildly.

 
          
Aidan
was appalled by the pain. His head hurt, aye, but not so much as his chest. A
demon was kicking his ribs. "Am I broken?" he asked faintly.

 
          
"Bruised,
a little. Repairable, certainly. I could do it for you, but that is not my
gift. I Hunt; I do not Heal."

 
          
That
won Aidan's attention. "Hunt—" he muttered blankly. "What is it
you hunt?"

 
          
"Men."

 
          
Something
jumped inside painful ribs. "But—" He stopped. "No—I think not…
you could not be—"

 
          
"—hunting
you?" the brown man finished. "Oh, indeed I could be… in fact, I am
certain I
am
."

 
          
Sweat
sheened Aidan's face. He felt it under his arms; in the hollow of his belly,
beneath aching ribs. "What have you done with my
lir
?"

 
          
"Sent
him ahead, as I said. Do you think I could hurt a
lir
?" The tone changed to shock. "No more than harm
you
, who are true-born or the Cheysuli…"
The Hunter's voice faded. His face registered concern. "I have little
experience with humans, even with those of my blood… perhaps I would have done
better to come in another guise." He frowned thoughtfully. "But this
one has always served me… it has always been so
benign
…"

 
          
Aidan
lost fear and patience. "Who exactly
are
you? And why are you hunting me?"

 
          
The
dark face creased in a smile. "To discover what you have learned."

 
          
"Have—learned—?"
It was incongruous to Aidan that any of what he saw was real. That what he
heard
was real; the fall had addled his
wits. First Shaine, and now the Hunter. "Am I supposed to have learned
anything in particular? Or anything at all?"

 
          
"Oh,
I think something. You have been alive for twenty-three years… I think you
must
have learned something." The
smile was undiminished, though irony laced the tone.

 
          
And
yet another time, as if repeated asking would eventually win him an answer:
"What have you done with my
lir
?"

 
          
The
brown man's smile vanished. "Ruefully, he rubbed his jaw. "I see the
link is even stronger than we expected… we might have done better to lessen it,
to make
lir
and warrior less
dependent upon one another, but without the strength of that bond, there could
be repercussions. And we could not afford those." He shook his head.
"No, I think it is as well."

 
          
Patience
frayed. "
What
is as well?"

 
          
"The
bond," the Hunter answered equably. "The thing you call the
lir-
link. The thing that sets you apart
from all the others we made… except, of course, the Ihlini." He sighed.
"We do not succeed in everything. Imparting free will was a risk we
decided to take… the Ihlini were the result." He paused. A trace of
grimness entered his tone. "And, now, the
a'saii
."

 
          
Aidan
gritted his teeth. "You have not answered my question."

 
          
"About
your
lir
! But I have. I sent him
ahead, to Clankeep."

 
          
Response
was immediate. "Teel does no man's bidding! Teel can be
sent
nowhere, unless I do the
sending!"

 
          
"Ah,
but the
lir
answer to a higher power
than that of the Cheysuli. They can be sent wherever we say."

 
          
"There
is only one other power—" Aidan broke it off. He stared hard at the man, daring
him to repeat the oblique claim, but nothing was forthcoming.

 
          
The
wind, for a moment, rose, then died away to nothing. Storm clouds peeled away,
leaving behind a clear sky. It was, abruptly,
spring
, not summer; grass grew, trees budded, the air was warm and
light. Even as Aidan sat there, braced against the ground, a flower grew up
between the fingers of one hand. And blossomed.

 
          
The
Hunter's smile was mild. "Perhaps you begin to see."

 
          
Aidan
snatched his hand away. The denial was absolute. "No."

 
          
The
Hunter nodded in silence.

 
          
I am mad. I am. I must be. Or sick in the
head; the fall
—
it was the fall… I
landed on my head, and everything is a dream
—
yet
another
dream… first
Shaine, now this Hunter
—Aidan squinted fiercely.
If I look at things more closely
—

 
          
What
he looked at was a man who claimed he was a god.

 
          
Spring
dissolved itself. It grew cooler as Aidan stared, until he began to shiver. It
was cold, too cold; in winter he wore fur-lined leathers, forsaking the linens
of summer. But now he was caught, bathed by winter's breath. The ground around
him hardened. The trees sloughed leaves. The grass beneath was dead, and all
the flowers gone.

 
          
But a moment ago it was spring
… Aidan
shivered. And then it was warm again.

 
          
When
he could, he cleared his throat. Perhaps if he proceeded with extreme caution…
"
Why
did you send Teel away? If
he is of your making—"

 
          
"Oh,
not of
mine
—I do not do the making.
That is a task for others, though all of us, of course, have some say in the
matter." The Hunter's expression was kind, as if he understood all too
well what Aidan was thinking. Which perhaps he did, if he was what he claimed.
"As to why I sent him away, the answer is simple enough. This is a thing
between you and I, Aidan, not among you and I and the raven. Even the
lir
are not privy to all we do."

 
          
The
seasons, without fanfare, continued changing. Grass grew, then died; flowers
bloomed, then died; trees changed their shapes; the sky was day, then night;
then night and day again. And all without a word from the brown man watching
Aidan. Without a single
gesture
to
say he realized what he did was not done—could
not
be done—by anyone but a god.

 
          
Think about something else…

 
          
Aidan
stirred, then ventured another question. "Why are the
lir
not privy to all you do?"

 
          
"Oh,
they are quite arrogant enough without requiring another reason. They are
familiars, not gods—they cannot know everything, or they become quite
insufferable."

 
          
"No,"
Aidan said faintly, letting it sink in. "Teel needs no more cause for any additional
arrogance. He has quite enough as it is."