Shapeshifters (50 page)

At the last moment, I changed my direction so that instead of immediately going to the Rookery, I stepped into the forest beyond the northern hills. I needed to calm down before I would be able to sleep.

I was not surprised when Nicias landed by my side a moment later. He was my guard, and he would not leave me alone, especially while there was any rumor of unrest among the nearby wolves. He gave me distance as I picked my way through the darkened woods, lost in thought, but he came to me when I sighed.

“What happened?” he asked. “I saw your parents off and then flew over the southern hills just in time to see you come out here.”

I briefly described the fight, trying to keep the bitterness from my voice. After I was done, Nicias let a few moments pass in awkward silence before asking softly, “Do you want to talk, or should I give you space?”

Though I knew he could not go far enough for me to be truly on my own, I appreciated the offer of privacy.

We had been friends for so long, I chose instead to tell him the fears that I rarely shared with anyone. “I love the serpiente, the dancers, the silken
melos
scarves and the Namir-da,” I said. “I love the avians, their singers, the sky, the poetry and the philosophical debates in the northern side of the marketplace. I love both sides of Wyvern's Court … enough to admit that despite their sitting on opposite sides of a single valley, intended to be one society, they might as well sit on opposite sides of the world. They are two completely different civilizations, and neither wants to change to accommodate the other—and I don't feel I have the right to tell them to.”

Nicias looked away, and I regretted how frustrated I had sounded. I tried not to burden others with these fears. I might have apologized, but before I could, he said, “You're right. But we've come so far by not killing each other. There
has
to be a way.” Thoughtfully, he suggested, “Your parents went to the Mistari. Perhaps an outside perspective would help again?”

“Perhaps, but what if the tigers agree with all the others? The wolves don't understand why we bother to try; Kalisa and I had a long discussion about this when her pack was visiting the market a few months ago.” Kalisa and I had always gotten along; I respected her. I hoped she was not as badly injured as the lions' message had indicated. “Kalisa said they respected our efforts but it isn't natural for two people who are so different to mesh. And the falcons?” Nicias winced.

“Think it can't be done,” he said, as he had many times before. That was one of the very few things he had told me of his days on Ahnmik.

He would tell me the rest, if he ever thought I needed to know.

Nicias had seemed older since he had come home from the falcons' island four months before. When he had returned to Wyvern's Court, he'd had wounds that spoke of torture. Those injuries had since healed, but whatever he had learned had marked him permanently.

He had continued studying magic, but I had never met his teacher, and he seemed reluctant to speak of her. I had put enough together from his vague references to know that she worked with him from the city of Ahnmik, without needing to come physically to Wyvern's Court.

“What if I go to the Mistari, and they say the same thing?” I challenged. “It can't, or shouldn't, be done? People see the Mistari as almost infinitely wise. If I brought that message back with me, it would fracture the court further. I can't risk that kind of damage.” But doing nothing meant risking the kind of damage that could have occurred that night. “Maybe I should just give it up,” I said, joking. “Shock everyone and elope with a falcon.”

There had never been anything between Nicias and me beyond friendship, and yet he tensed, moving away from me.

“Don't, Oliza,” he said.

“Wyvern's Court isn't something I should joke about,” I said, concurring. “I just get so frustrated.”

“I know,” he answered, “but it's not a safe joke to make, even in frustration. There are too many people who would take you seriously.”

Too many people, in these woods? What had happened to the days when we could share our dreams and he didn't chastise me about the shadows overhearing us?

I frowned, hurt. I knew what would happen if I
did
take a falcon for my mate. Both serpiente and avians would probably rebel. I would have a civil war on my hands. Even if that wasn't the case, everyone knew that a falcon couldn't take a pair bond from another breed without the risk of having a child whose magic was too strong to control. Hai was a vivid example of that madness.

The impossibility was what made my friendship with Nicias safe. There had never been a chance for a relationship between us, so we could both tease and not worry about it going further.

I supposed he had stopped teasing after his trip to Ahnmik. I hadn't noticed until just then.

“It's late,” Nicias said softly, “and it has been a long day. Maybe it would be best to face these questions in the morning.”

I nodded. “You're right. It's too late tonight to make any decisions anyway, too late to do anything but turn over the same fears.”

We said our farewells, and I changed shape and stretched my wyvern's wings, circling once over my home, as if to bid it good night. The dancers would keep the southern hills bathed in light and music until nearly dawn, but the rest of my world was quiet and peaceful.

Almost. Shifting shadows drew my attention to something out of place in the avians' northern hills, a figure lying on the ground, curled on its side on the cobblestone path between the houses. My pulse sped as I dove toward the unusual sight. It was common for people to sleep outside on the southern hills in good weather, but it was unheard of
there,
on the hard cobbles of the north.

I fell into human form near enough to make out dark
hair. Fair skin. Clothes that could pass for acceptable in either court. A
melos
tied around his waist, with a fringe of silver thread. A dancer.

Urban.

I tumbled to his side, skinning one knee when I saw the blood on him.

“Urban!”
I shouted, but was afraid to touch him. He was curled in a protective ball, one arm over his head, his hair in his face so I couldn't see it.
Please don't let him be …
“Urban,
please …
”

Tentatively I touched his shoulder and turned him toward me, and though it made me cringe, the pained sound he let out was the sweetest thing I had ever heard. Thank the gods at least he was alive.

“Urban, it's me, Oliza. How badly are you hurt?” I was torn between wanting to stay with him and wanting to take to the skies to drag back a doctor
right then.

A doctor, and guards. If someone had done this to him, it had happened just moments before. Whoever was responsible had to be nearby still. I couldn't leave Urban alone, unprotected.

“Oliz—” He hissed in pain and then slowly, agonizingly, tried to lift his head.

“Don't move yet,” I told him. “I'll be right back.”

I rose to my feet and shifted back into my wyvern form, propelling myself into the air, with one eye still on Urban. As I shot above the mist, I let out a shriek capable of shattering glass.

Within seconds, two of my avian guards took to the sky. Other avians rose from their beds and came to doorways. All the serpents who were celebrating in the southern hills, including Gretchen, looked up.

Half a minute had passed since I'd left Urban, but by the time I landed beside him again, I had six of my guards with me.

Nicias took charge. “Get to the Rookery and bring back a doctor
now;
I don't care who you have to wake up,” he ordered two of the avians, who instantly returned to the sky. “The rest of you, spread out, try to find sign of who did this. Try not to panic people.” Meanwhile, he knelt by Urban to assess the damage.

By this time, Gretchen had reached us, her face flushed from the run. “Oliza, what's—” She went pale when she saw Urban, but her first question was for me. “Oliza, are you all right?”

I nodded sharply, even though I understood why I had to be her priority. “I found him. I wasn't here when it happened.”

“It's all right,” Nicias was saying to Urban. “You're going to be all right.” He lifted his gaze to me, and I could tell he was worried.

“Is there anything you can do?” I asked.

“I'll try.”

He brushed the hair out of Urban's face, revealing bruises and a long cut down his cheek. One of Urban's eyes was swollen shut, but the other eventually focused on Nicias, and Urban cringed, perhaps anticipating the touch of what the serpiente considered falcons' black magic.

“It'll be all right,” Nicias said again before he closed his eyes, drew a breath, and then went impossibly still.

By the time the doctor arrived a few minutes later, Urban's eyes had closed again, but he was breathing regularly. Nicias looked up, finally releasing the long breath he had held, and reported, “I can't do any more. I don't know how. I managed to stop the bleeding inside, but he has broken
bones, things—” He pressed a hand to the ground as if to steady himself. “I'm not a trained healer.”

The doctor, an avian named Rian, nodded. “I'll take care of him.”

 

The next two hours were torture. I waited in the Rookery library, my head in my hands and my body shaking with adrenaline, while the doctor tended to Urban.

“Oliza?”

I looked up when I heard Gretchen. “Urban is awake. He wants to speak to you.”

“How is he?”

“The doctor is … optimistic.” The careful words made me pale, and she quickly clarified, “He'll live. But the doctor is avian. I do not think she understands that Urban is more concerned about the broken leg and the dislocated knee than he would have been about a potentially fatal injury.”

“Gods,” I whispered. Gretchen was not exaggerating. A dancer's craft was his life. Who had done this?

I stood to go, and Gretchen added hesitantly, “Urban also wants us to speak to the nest and bring a serpent here to stay with him.”

I began to nod, surprised that Gretchen had even bothered to pass that request by me instead of simply fulfilling it, and then it hit me. When the dancers heard about the attack on Urban, they would be furious and assume that avians were to blame. We needed to find out who had done this before word got out, or the dancers might take matters into their own hands.

“I'll speak to Urban,” I said, “and then we'll figure out the rest.”

“How is he?” I asked the doctor as she stopped me in the doorway of Urban's room.

“He'll make it,” Rian said, “but not thanks to any craft of mine. Nicias minimizes his skill. Judging by the injuries I saw, if the falcon hadn't been on the scene, I'm not certain I would have been able to do anything. I know you'll need to talk to Urban, but make it quick. He needs rest now.”

I didn't bother to try to explain that Urban would not be able to rest well until he was back in the nest and safe in the arms of his fellow dancers. That would be my problem. “Can he be moved?”

“If he must be, but he won't be able to walk. He'll need to stay off that leg for a week at least if he wants it to heal right.”

She left the room, and I went to Urban's side. I had to bite my lip to keep from cursing when I saw him. I wanted to weep; I wanted to scream.
What kind of monsters could have done this?

I forced myself to remain calm when I said, “I hate to have
to question you so soon, but I need to know what happened, before the rumors start.”

“You mean,” Urban said, “before the dancers learn that one of their people was jumped by a group of avians?”

I winced. “You're sure they were avian?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?” I didn't want to know, but I needed to.

Urban shut his eyes and took a shaky half breath. “I'm not sure. A little while after you left, I walked over to the northern hills. Figured I should go by Marus's house to see if he was still awake, and apologize.”

“Apologize?” I asked, impressed but surprised that he would have decided to do such a thing, especially since Marus had hit him first.

“I might have baited him—just a bit,” Urban admitted.

“So you walked to the northern hills.”

“There isn't much more to tell,” he said. “I thought I remembered where Marus's house was, and I was on my way there. It was dark. I felt a couple of people nearby—avians.” He didn't need to clarify how he knew they were avians. Serpiente were cold-blooded; if he had felt their body heat, they couldn't have been serpiente. “Someone hit me with something …. I don't know. I don't remember much more. I remember someone saying …”

“Go on.”

“Just, ‘Stay away from her,'” he mumbled. “I'm sorry.”

“You're sorry?” I whispered. “Urban, this is my fault if—”

“It's not your fault. It's their fault.” He coughed before muttering, “And they call us violent.”

“Do you remember anything else about the people who attacked you?”

He shook his head and then cringed as if the movement
hurt. “I don't remember. There were two. Maybe three, but I think two.”

“Marus?” I asked hesitantly. An even worse possibility …“Prentice?” Both had been directly involved in the violence earlier.

He started to smirk. “I'd love to say yes, but I don't know.”

“I need to talk to my parents.”

Had anyone sent for them? It had been only a few hours since they had left, but it would be difficult for even an avian to locate them until the sun was up.

Had any night ever been longer than this one?

“If the doctor says it's all right, I'd like to go back to the nest … but I'm going to need help.”

I hesitated a little too long and saw his eyes widen.

“Oliza—”

“Will you wait until I talk to my parents?”

“Oliza, I've done nothing wrong.”

“Of course you haven't—”

“If the nest learns that you refused to let one of their dancers go home—if you
lie
to them …”

I pressed a hand to my forehead. “You've done nothing wrong, and I have no intention of holding you against your will or lying to anyone. I am
asking
you to please wait until I have spoken to my parents and the Wyverns, so that I will have something to tell people.”

“That wasn't meant to sound like a threat,” Urban assured me. “I'm on your side. I'd like to wring the necks of the mangy fowl who hit me, but I can't stand the idea of letting them create a rift in the nest. Salem Cobriana was the first member of the royal house to join us in twenty generations.
Don't betray that—not to protect a bunch of birds too cowardly to even show their faces.”

He was right. As much as I would have liked to keep this quiet until I had more answers, serpiente did not tolerate deception from their royal house. Too many people had seen me shout for help. Too many people would notice that Urban was missing, and would start asking about him, if they hadn't already.

“I won't.” I stood up, touching his cheek gently on one of the few unbruised spots. “I'll be back as soon as I can, and I'll help you to the nest. In the meantime …” The promise that there would be guards on the door would be of little comfort. They weren't his nestmates, the people a serpent went to when hurt or scared.

“Hurry back.”

 

“Gretchen, I want to see all the guards who examined the scene earlier,” I told the python after I left Urban's room. “We need to get Urban back to the nest as soon as possible, and I want to know
something
before we do. I need to talk to Salem right away,” I added. I would need him to help keep the dancers calm in the next few hours. “And then I'm going to need to speak to Marus and Prentice.” That was going to be unpleasant. “And please get someone with wings who can find my parents.”
Now,
I wanted to add, or better yet,
Yesterday.

As Gretchen jumped to respond to my commands, I walked with rapid strides to one of the empty classrooms. I needed to get myself under control, needed …

I screamed, muffling the sound with a cushion so that my
guards wouldn't come running once again. There was no way to beat down this horror, this fury—this
terror.

My fault, my fault. I wasn't the one who had hit Urban, but I was the one who had insisted he come to Festival. I was the one who had laughed and assured him he would be fine.

I screamed again. I felt blind, and helpless.

“Don't do it.”

The voice from the doorway made me jump. Hai. I turned toward her with a glare hot enough to melt steel. She looked back at me with an absolute lack of concern.

“Don't do what?” I asked when she did not speak again.

“I don't know. What are you about to do?”

I struggled to compose myself. “Hai, can you act sane for just a moment—please? I don't have it in me right now to play riddles.”

“How nice for you.”

“Hai—”

She made an abrupt motion, cutting me off. “A
sakkri
isn't neat like a letter. I was never trained; I can't control it. At least I remember mine. Most without training cannot.”

“Sakkri?”
I knew of them from my studies in the dancer's nest. The various forms of
sakkri
performed by serpiente were the remnants of ritual dances that had once been used to conjure powerful magic long ago. Some
sakkri
had called the rain; some had been used to create illusions; some had been prayers for divine assistance and some had summoned spirits of the past and future. There were dozens of varieties, some of which I had performed and many that I would not even begin to study for years yet.

Unlike the serpiente, the falcons had never lost their magic. My cousin, despite her cobra features, claimed to wield a falcon's ancient power. “Magic. Vision.
Sakkri'a'she.
”
She tried to explain. “You are about to do something that changes everything.”

The
sakkri'a'she
was one of the more intricate
sakkri,
which I vaguely knew but had never performed. If one believed the stories, this particular form had been used to ask the future for guidance.

“How can you be warning me not to do what I'm about to do when I don't even
know
what I'm about to do?” I snapped.

“Your not knowing what the weather will be tomorrow does not change it.”

“Presumably my knowing what I'm about to do would affect
that.
”

Why was I arguing about this? I didn't believe in prophecy, and even if I had, I wasn't certain I would have trusted a prophecy told to me by my crazy cousin.

“Of course. This is why I came to speak to you.” She waved a hand dismissively. “The mind barely comprehends its own yesterday, but
sakkri
force on it other times, other places, other people, visions it tries to shake away because to hold them all would only court madness. A single soul is not meant to know every
is
and
was
and
may be
and
could have been.
What I see is never as clear as
why
and
when
and
where
and
how.
Just pieces of a memory that aren't meant to be mine. All I know is that within the next few minutes, what you do—what you
did,
or will do, in the future I saw …” She closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “I do not know.”

Regardless of whether I believed her, I thought I understood the warning: consider carefully before acting. I needed to calm down so that I could think rationally.

“Thank you for trying,” I said. “I will be careful.”

She shook her head. “I hope so.”

I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath, meditating the way dancers did before a performance. Those mental exercises included envisioning the steps the body would soon take; now I forced myself to think of a plan for Wyvern's Court.

Urban was right that we could not put the dancers off for long, but it would be equally dangerous to speak to them without some kind of reassurance.
Damn
Kalisa for calling my parents away. How would I deal on my own with the only suspects we had so far?

Speaking to Marus would be hard enough. After all, he was a longtime friend. Worse, though, would be confronting Prentice. I doubted he would react well to the accusation. Avians considered themselves above the vulgar passions that led to violence; they would not want to believe that an alistair to the royal house could be responsible for such a vicious attack. If Prentice
wasn't
found guilty but word got to the serpiente that he had been questioned, they might jump to the conclusion that he had been protected because of his position.

There was no good way for this to end.

“Vemka!”
I snarled a curse I had learned in the nest.
Calm down, Oliza. Calm down, and think of a plan.

I opened my eyes. Hai was still there, watching me with an utterly inscrutable expression.

“Hai, thank you for your concern, but would you please leave and let me think?”

“If I thought you were capable of such, I would,” she said, “but I live in this place, too, and I would rather it still be here tomorrow.”

I needed something to calm my rioting, exhausting
thoughts. Prompted by Hai's warning, I chose the
sakkri'a'she. You're thinking too much about what you are doing,
my teachers always told me.
You aren't comfortable with it yet.
Right then, I needed something that would take all my concentration, something that would force my fears from my mind long enough for me to relax and step back.

I took another deep breath, calling to mind what the music would sound like, hearing the rhythm in my head before I began to focus all my attention on the subtle, tricky ripples of the dance. I was vaguely aware of Hai nearby; she sighed, and I remembered that she had once been a dancer herself. She took a step toward me.

If I had Hai's power, could I use this dance as my ancestors had, to beg the spirits of the future for guidance?

I felt at peace, as if all the world was held at bay for a moment.

But then it was as if I had been struck by lightning, and I found myself with my palms pressed against the ground, tears in my eyes, my whole body shaking, unsure of exactly where or when or who I was.

Hai recoiled from me. “Whatever you have just done, I'll thank you not to do it again,” she choked out before stumbling from the room.

Whatever I had done … Thoughts lingered in my mind like a dream. I needed to—

This is madness—

 

I woke in the Rookery courtyard, to the sound of Nicias calling my name. An instant later he was beside me, whispering something in the old language that had to be a prayer.

“Where am I?”

“Are you hurt?”

“I—no. How long have I been—”

 

“Oliza!”

“I—what?” Gretchen was with us now, and Nicias sounded slightly frantic. He had put a hand on my shoulder, and I pushed it away. “I'm fine,” I said. “I think.”

My head was spinning. How had I gotten there? I remembered talking to Hai, and then … a vague sense of knowing I had to do something, go somewhere …

“You're pale,” Nicias said. “Does anything hurt?”

I shook my head and pushed myself up—

 

I was standing; we were at the stairs to the Rookery. I was holding Nicias's arm for support.

“Oliza?” Gretchen asked when we paused abruptly.

I felt as if I had been dreaming and was waking up in stages. At least I remembered now when it had begun. “Remind me never to let Hai ‘help' me again.”

“What about Hai?” Nicias asked.

What
about Hai? She had come to the library.
“Sakkri'a'she,”
I said. “She was talking about something I was going to do. She wasn't making any sense.”

“
Sakkri'a'she
are rarely worked even on Ahnmik,” Nicias explained. “Of all the versions of
sakkri,
the
a'she
is among the most difficult. It allows the user to see possible futures, ranging from those that are likely to occur, to those that could occur only if a very unlikely series of events took place. Falcons have been known to go mad struggling to fight Fate
to bring about events that they would never have known could occur if they hadn't seen them. And Hai …” He sighed. “She has no way to control it. She has told me that she gets lost in time constantly. The past and the present and the future overlap in her mind, so sometimes she sees the consequences of her actions before she has even decided what to do, and sometimes she sees her own ‘free will' as nothing more than a result of the choices of those who came before. You didn't try to perform one in her presence, did you?”