Roberson, Jennifer - Cheysuli 07 (38 page)

 
          
"Hush,"
she chided gently. "He is Cheysuli, from Homana. That is the
lir
-gold a warrior receives when he
becomes a man." Black eyes flicked in Aidan's direction, silently
apologizing. "He is not a brigand come to rob us, or a man offering
unwanted charity. Look at him again; you will see what he is, merely by looking
into his eyes."

 
          
"Faugh!"
The old man glowered as she bent to make certain he was comfortable on his
cushion. His hair was white, very thin, very long. A matching beard straggled
down the front of his robe. But his eyes, for all their agedness, were sharp as
he glared at Aidan. "Come, boy," he ordered brusquely.

 
          
Aidan
bit his tongue. Never in his life had he been treated so rudely or
disrespectfully. Nevertheless he did as ordered and moved closer. He stood
quietly, unwilling quite yet to bow, though undoubtedly it was what the old man
wanted.

 
          
Siglyn
eyed him. "Shapechanger, are you?" The flesh of his face creased.
"Aye, perhaps you are, for all the fire on your head… you have the look in
your eyes."

 
          
Aidan
blinked. "The—look?"

 
          
"The
wildness, boy! The feyness. Arrogant as an eagle, in its aerie above the world…
and a wolf at bay betimes, mistrusting the selfsame world." Siglyn bared
yellowed teeth. His fingernails were clean, but cracked; idly, he chewed them.
"I've lived a long time, boy. I've seen many things. Not so long ago your
race and mine were at war."

 
          
Aidan
smiled; the old so often shortened time. "Long enough."

 
          
Siglyn
frowned and removed fingers from mouth. "I fought in the wars with
Carillon… you lack the accent, boy."

 
          
Ruddy
brows rose. "Which one?"

 
          
"The
one I heard, when we took prisoners." Nastily, the old man grinned.
"You speak it differently."

 
          
Aidan
shrugged. "I am from Mujhara. There are dialects—"

 
          
"Hah!
Mujhara is the king's city." Siglyn sighed thoughtfully. "Never been
there… never been out of Solinde. Been to Lestra, though, and
she's
a king's city." Blue eyes
sharpened once more. "Why are you come to Solinde?"

 
          
Inwardly,
Aidan sighed. But he had been taught to treat the elderly with great respect,
regardless of the treatment received in return. "I am on my way to Erinn.
To Kilore. I will take ship from Andemir."

 
          
Siglyn
gifted him with a malignant stare. "You could have done
that
from Hondarth. Why are you come to
Solinde?"

 
          
Aidan
cleared his throat, maintaining a neutral tone. "I have kin in
Lestra."

 
          
Tye
came back from hobbling and graining horses. He pushed an arm through thick
black hair and dropped down to tend the fire Aidan had been called away from.
"Lestra," he said lightly, as if tasting the word. "
Shapechanger
kin in Lestra." He fed
in a length of wood, then slanted a glance at Ashra and the old man. "Not
many can claim that."

 
          
"A
few." Aidan, glad to turn from Siglyn, knelt also and added wood.

 
          
The
old man had not given up. He raised his voice preemptorily. "How is the
Mujhar
?"

 
          
Aidan
laughed and dropped another faggot on the flames. "The last time I saw
him, he was quite well. But you will not trap me like that, old man… I am not
in hiding. You have only to
ask
,
instead of wasting your time—and mine—hinting."

 
          
The
magician laughed unpleasantly. "I
like
hinting," he said. "Not much left for an old man's nights."

 
          
Ashra
knelt down next to Aidan and put a hand on his arm. "Who are you?"
she asked. "Siglyn is not usually so bad… are you someone he knows?"

 
          
Aidan
laughed once. "Only someone he
thinks
he knows, because he is a busybody." He looked at Ashra. In firelight, her
bold features were softened. "I am grandson to the Mujhar."

 
          
Her
mouth slackened slightly. Then she threw back ringlets with a toss of her head.
The hand was gone from his arm.

 
          
Tye
grunted. "I thought you looked too soft for a man of honest blood… and yet
you ride with no servants."

 
          
Aidan
sighed in resignation. "We do not
all
move about the countryside with great trains of servants in our wakes."
Although his mother would have liked it. "It is not a Cheysuli custom to
be dependent on others."

 
          
Tye
laughed, one winged black brow rising. "Is that so? Well, I am surprised.
I had thought all of royal birth had blood so thin they required propping up by
the labor of others considerably less blessed."

 
          
Aidan
grunted. "There speaks ignorance. Had you met your own lord, you would
never say that."

 
          
Tye's
tone was dry. "People such as we only rarely meet his like."

 
          
Aidan's
tolerance was gone. He rose, wrapping the cloak around his arms. "I
offered you wine; you may have it. But perhaps you would be more content
without my company."

 
          
Ashra
was at his side instantly. "Oh, no!" she cried. "Forgive him, my
lord… Tye is often overhasty when he speaks, but never when he sings. Only
wait, and you will hear." She cast a glance at the magician. "As for
Siglyn, he is old. He forgets what he says. Bide with us the night."

 
          
The
old man, thus invoked, stirred testily. "Don't speak for me when I have a
tongue yet in my head! I say what I wish, and to
whom
I wish, no matter what they like."

 
          
Ashra
grimaced, then smiled tentatively at Aidan. "Will you stay? You would be
safer with a group… and we would no doubt be considerably safer with a
Cheysuli."

 
          
Tye
grinned. "Prove to us I am wrong. Show us you are worthy of our
respect."

 
          
Aidan
opened his mouth to refuse, but Teel was in the link.
Why not
? he asked.
It might
prove less tedious than a night without argument
.

 
          
I have
you
for that
.

 
          
One
bright eye glinted.
A lir is many things,
but a lir is not a woman
.

 
          
Aidan
very nearly laughed aloud, but good manners kept him from it. It was
discourteous to stay in the link any longer than was necessary, with the
unblessed around.

 
          
He
looked at Ashra. He thought about Teel's comment. And smiled. "I will
stay."

 
          
When
Aidan discovered the Solindish entertainers had little enough to eat, he
offered to share his own rations in addition to his wine. The offer was
accepted only after a brief discussion—in Solindish—that Aidan barely followed
because of the dialect: Tye was uncertain they should place themselves so
heavily in a stranger's debt, while Siglyn muttered about brigands who starved
an old man by stealing food from his mouth; Ashra, who was hungry, said both of
them were fools and
she
would eat
shapechanger food even if they would not.

 
          
Scowling,
Tye gave her leave to accept the offer. Ashra thanked Aidan prettily, black
eyes flashing beneath lowered lashes as she dipped a graceful, if unstudied,
curtsy, but it was Siglyn who ate more and faster than any of them. Aidan
wondered idly where it showed itself on the old man, for he was thin and
stringy almost to the point of emaciation.

 
          
When
the food was gone, the wineskins were passed more frequently. Siglyn had his
own and was disinclined to share, saying the vintage was a personal favorite,
but Tye was companionable enough as he handed his skin to Aidan. Ashra drank
sparingly, but high color came into her face as she stared transfixed at the
fire.

 
          
Tye
settled himself more comfortably against a rolled blanket thrust beneath his
neck. "What is it like?" he asked, when he was done swallowing wine.
"What is it like to take on the shape of an
animal
?"

 
          
Having
done his share of damage to a wineskin, Aidan was not irritated by Tye's
disrespect. He lay propped against his saddle and smiled. "You are asking
the wrong man. There are others better suited to explaining the
lir
-shape, which is very personal—and
others better suited to understanding."

 
          
For
a long moment only the crackle of flames broke the heavy silence as Tye
considered the irony. Then he smiled, lifted a wineskin in wry tribute, nodded
his head at Teel, perched atop the wagon canopy. "Try to explain. I will
try
to understand."

 
          
Aidan
shrugged, vaguely discomfited. He did not quite know where to start.

 
          
Tye
frowned. "Do you not change? Do you not become
him
?"

 
          
Answering
was easier. "No, not
him
. I
become another."

 
          
"But
a raven."

 
          
"Aye,
a raven. That is how you know the shape we become: by the
lir
who accompanies us." He shrugged. "No matter what the
stories say, we are not free to become anything—or
anyone
—we desire. We are not monsters, or creatures of darkness.
The gods made us, Tye… and they made the
lir
."

 
          
Ashra's
tone was detached as she stared transfixed into the flames. "Why did you
choose a raven?"

 
          
"The
choosing was not mine. It is never the warrior's choosing… there is more to it
than that." Aidan squirmed into a more comfortable position, hugging
wineskin between elbow and ribs. "When I was fourteen I fell sick—the
lir-
sickness, we call it—and knew only a
great and terrible need. There is no cure for the sickness, no relief for the
need, except to go out into the forest and find a
lir
. And so I did."

 
          
Tye's
doubt was manifest. "Alone?"

 
          
Brief
irritation flickered. "Of course alone… it is not a thing for another to
share."

 
          
"They
let a fourteen-year-old-boy—one who would one day be king—go out alone into the
forest?"

 
          
"
'They,' as you call them, are also Cheysuli. No one would stand in my way,
least of all Cheysuli kin."

 
          
Tye
frowned thoughtfully. "And so you found
him
."

 
          
Aidan
shrugged. "Teel and I found each other. For the
lir
it is much the same: they know a need, and they fill it. A
Cheysuli with no
lir
—and a
lir
with no warrior—is incomplete. Once
linked, we are whole."

 
          
"With
the ability to shift your shape."

 
          
Aidan
nodded. "But only into whatever shape the
lir
represents. If I had two
lir
,
as did my great-grandsire, Donal, I would then be able to assume two different
forms. But I have only Teel… the gods are sparing with gifts."

 
          
Tye's
laughter mocked. "The gods, when they do anything at all, are sparing with
everything. Especially good fortune. Only the bad flows generously."