Spiritwalker 3: Cold Steel (26 page)

Rory hissed, ears flicking back. Bee brandished the cacica’s head and the hammer.

I dumped my pack on the ground to leave myself room to maneuver
as I confronted the man wearing Vai’s face. “You are not my husband. You are my sire.
How did you know I was here?”

His laughter had a cruel edge. “I smell and hear and see and taste all. Your voice
and your emotions are fingers walking along my skin. I knew you would come after him.
Still, you have surprised me, Daughter. You have brought me the dragon dreamer. I
did not expect you to hand her over in exchange for the man.”

“You are mistaken if you think I intend to let you have her.”

“That is what Tara Bell said to me when I told her she would bear a girl child who
would grow up to serve me. Why do you bother to resist, when you know how that turned
out?” In a melting flash of shadow he changed to become a saber-toothed cat larger
and more powerful than Rory. He roared, the threat reverberating through the air.

“Stand behind me, Bee.” I raised my sword. There was a great deal I did not know about
the spirit world, but what I did know, I could use. I spoke the words the footman
who was an eru had taught me the first time I had crossed into the spirit world. “Let
those who are kin come to my aid. I call to you, Rory’s kinswomen, and I ask respectfully
for your protection.”

Head down, ears flat, Rory slouched up to join me in confronting our sire. I admired
his courage; he was clearly terrified. I was quaking, too, but my sword arm stayed
steady.

“You’ll have to get through us first,” I added. “I do not fear to stab you, even if
it means harming myself.”

He lashed his tail in warning. I looked past him, for the first time truly taking
in our surroundings. We stood on the stone pavement of a monumental plaza. In the
distance, to both the right and the left, rose other wards, each with a pillar formed
of glass, a glittering crystal tree whose leaves tinkled in a cold wind, and a fountain
spilling sleet as an icy breath. In the center of all, far away, stood a white stone
palace. Ribbons of silver and gold shimmered along the top of its wall, caught in
a wind we could not feel down here. My father had written in his journals of an old
folktale that mentioned a palace like this one, with four gates.

In the plaza, shadows and bursts of light coalesced, marking the arrival of the Hunt.
Crows flapped down to perch on my sire’s back, and what should have looked ridiculous
instead heightened the aspect
of his power. Lean hounds padded up beside him. A cloud of wasps circled over his
head, while a pack of huge gray dire wolves drew muzzles back to show their teeth.

He roared again, the sound so loud the crows took flight, cawing.

A second roar answered.

My sire looked around as if startled.

A pride of tawny saber-toothed cats flowed into view, halting to mill around Rory
and me. Not even the Wild Hunt dared rashly charge in against a pride of saber-toothed
cats. They dipped heads, rubbed; one of the smaller females nipped at Rory, and he
nipped back. The one I recognized as his mother boxed him across the head with a paw.
He growled, and she batted him again. His ears twitched, then flattened.

Satisfied, she turned with the others to stare hungrily at Bee.

“Aunt! I pray you, listen to my words. The Master of the Wild Hunt seeks to harm me
and mine. Bee is my cousin and will not harm you. Just as your son has been forced
to serve his sire, so has she been forced to serve those you call the enemy. Please
help me stand against him.”

Tentatively I extended a hand so she could sniff my palm. Her beauty dazzled me, as
did the sheer force of her physical presence, with its power and majesty and, of course,
those teeth.

She reared up to balance her weight on my shoulders. Her gold eyes met mine unblinkingly.
She could have ripped off my face with one lazy yawn. Her breath was hot, laced with
a carrion scent, and yet it did not disturb me. Predators had these cravings.

She made a sound something like a meow and something like a query.

“The Master of the Wild Hunt mated with my mother as he did with you. He had no affection
for my mother. He only wanted to make a child he could command. Now he’s stolen my
beloved. Please, Aunt, I can only request your help as your stepdaughter, bound to
you through my love for your son Rory. Please protect my cousin Bee so the Wild Hunt
does not eat her. I will take her away from the spirit world as soon as I can.”

She heaved herself down and prowled over to Bee.

Standing as rigid as a statue, her gaze fixed on me to remind me that if she was eaten
it would be my fault, Bee endured being sniffed. I wasn’t sure I would have had that
much courage, but she did.

Last the big cat sniffed delicately at the cacica’s head. The two queens eyed each
other as might rulers who are not sure whether they are destined to become rivals
or allies.

Without warning, my sire sprang.

I spun and thrust.

My blade caught him along the right shoulder, a mere scrape. Pain flamed across my
own shoulder, but I knew it was coming so I hardened myself. I heard Rory’s mewl,
and most importantly the cry of every creature who attended him. Because hurting him
hurt them, they were momentarily unable to attack.

I flung myself into him and together we crashed sideways onto the ground. The fur
of his shoulder smeared into a new form. I was lying on top of Vai, who had his arms
caressingly around me. He was naked, and aroused.

Pain was nothing compared to my disgust.

I shoved off him and scrambled back, keeping my gaze averted as I got to my feet.

“Blessed Tanit!” cried Bee.

“You’re a monster. You’ll never defeat me, not in this way, not in any way!”

Bee sucked in a harsh breath. The saber-toothed cats had arrayed themselves around
her. They faced outward, ears flat, mouths open to show teeth. Every cat had her hair
fluffed up to make herself look bigger.

My sire rose to his knees as his body sprouted the wings of an eru. His skin brightened
to a sheen like brass. His long black hair stirred as if, like his limbs, it could
grasp and strangle his enemies. His wings were feathered with silver. He now wore
a kilt woven out of disks. The glittering amulets made me blink from the shine.

He stared at me with eyes the same amber color as mine. But he had also a third eye,
a mass of cloudy veins in the center of his forehead. What sights that bloody eye
could see I did not know, and I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to find out.

“This is your true form,” I said.

“Change is my true form. But the one who gave birth to me had an eru’s form when I
was disgorged. So it is the form to which I return most naturally.”

“No wonder the eru called me
Cousin
,” I muttered.

When he opened his wings to their full span, they exhaled an icy mist. He was magnificent.
“You must be what you are, little cat. That is why I sired you. Do you not wonder
why you can kill without regret, escape certain death, and prowl like a tomcat among
males who attract you?”

“I might be able to do those things even were you not my sire.” Waves of pain like
hot knives still stabbed through my right shoulder. I wondered if I could bring myself
to stab him again, even though my first attack had proven successful in forcing the
Hunt to retreat.

His stance remained relaxed and confident. “Do you ever ask yourself how it is you
can command the loyalty of others? Why they do your bidding at your word? It must
be so, because my blood is your blood. Those I command are yours also to command.”

“There are better reasons for people to be loyal. People give back to you what you
give to them. You may say it is blood or birth that binds servants to masters and
plebeians to their patrician lords, but that is only another word for force. The Council
in Expedition ruled because they had wealth enough to keep themselves in power. But
I watched the people of Expedition speak out in protest. I watched them fight. They
took the opportunity to govern themselves. They did not wait for it to be given them.
They did not say that their demands for new laws and for justice must cede to the
prerogatives of blood and birth.”

“Yet blood binds all.”

“Does it?” I demanded. “Do you command every creature in the spirit world?”

He said nothing, but he blinked.

I was breathing as hard as if I had been running, or maybe it was just my aching shoulder
that made me dizzy. “I think you only command the Wild Hunt, not one creature more.”

A smile cut his face. Before I thought to retreat, he folded his wings forward to
cage me in their web of ice. His clawed hands pulled me close, not in an amorous way
but as if he had decided to dismember me and rip off my head. His voice had the shiver
of a bell when a rod is drawn across it to make it vibrate.

“Hear my words, little cat. A prince among slaves is still a slave. The courts bind
him with blood in the palace where those without blood cannot walk. You are bound
because he is bound.”

“I don’t care what you say! I will free my husband!”

He let go, opened his wings, and launched himself into the sky. I staggered back.
Bee, Rory, and the cats shook free as if chains had been loosened.

“Cat!” Bee grabbed my hand. Rory shoved his head up under my free hand.

My shoulder really hurt. I took in short breaths to get through the sting of pain.

Over the palace the eru caught an updraft and spiraled up until he became too small
to see.

The pain ebbed enough for me to think straight. “Bee, how did you know it wasn’t Vai?”

“That was easy. First, he met us here. I was here all alone for about ten throbbing
heartbeats before you came through after me. When he asked where you were, he referred
to you as “Cat.” Andevai never calls you Cat. He calls you Catherine. I don’t understand
why your sire didn’t kill me immediately, but I suppose he would want to save me for
the next Hallows’ Night sacrifice. Did he say something to you when he imprisoned
you in his wings?”

I waggled my hand to show I did not mean to answer where my sire might hear, and she
nodded, then glanced past me. Her eyes flared as her mouth turned down. Rory’s mother
coughed a warning. Shapes like fanged butterflies fluttered toward us in a zigzag
way that made my skin prickle. The Master and his Hunt had departed, but other denizens
of the spirit world had come calling, attracted by Bee’s scent.

“You have to leave, Bee.”

“Your jacket is wet. What is that?”

I rubbed at my shoulder but I could tell it was a shallow scrape. Rory also had a
scratch along his right shoulder, oozing the golden liquid that was his blood.

“Nothing as important as getting you back to the mortal world. Bee, give me all the
bottles. And leave the hammer. I’ll take Vai’s tools.”

Her high color suggested she had known this moment would come. “I sorted the packs
in Adurnam already. I never thought I’d be able to come into the spirit world with
you, Cat. I knew I would just get in your way here.”

“Rory will go back with you.”

He protested with a coughing grunt.

“Rory, you know perfectly well it’s not safe for Bee to travel Europa alone. Don’t
argue. Queen Anacaona will stay with me. Find a troll maze to hide in if Hallows’
Night comes before I return. We’ll meet in Havery, at the law offices of Godwik and
Clutch.”

“Yes,” she said. “Havery.”

Rory’s mother snarled. A swirl of bright leaves swept up as on a blast of icy wind,
congealing into a monstrous beast with a lizard’s length, a silky coat of pale hair,
and a snake’s jaws. Two of the cats charged at it, but its claws drove them back.
I leaped forward and cut its open mouth with my sword. The beast disintegrated into
a thousand shards that clattered to the ground with a noise like chimes.

“Go, Bee! Through water.”

“I love you, Cat.” Chin lifted, Bee smiled bravely at me.

My look had to speak for me, because I could not produce words. The big cats prowled
the perimeter of the warded ground to give Bee time to get away. Shards littering
the ground stirred to take on the monstrous shape of a fluttering harpy with teeth
like obsidian knives. Four wolves loped up, tongues lolling and breath steaming. More
winged creatures appeared in the distance, arrowing our way.

I leaped forward to confront the wolves. “Hurry! Rory, go with her!”

She plunged into the little pool and fell away from us as if running down invisible
steps. I smeared a drop of blood from my shoulder onto my boot and stuck the foot
in the water to create a gate for Rory. The instant Bee’s head vanished beneath the
waters, with Rory behind her, the spirit beasts tested the air for a smell that was
no longer present. In ones and twos, they trotted away.

I had to let go of my unshed tears so I could concentrate on the task that lay before
me. By scratching each cat on its big head, I calmed myself. I ought to have been
scared of them. Any, except possibly the half-grown littlest, could have ripped me
to pieces, but they shouldered their bodies around mine in a way I found so charmingly
affectionate that it sucked my tears quite dry. They heartened me.

“My thanks to you. No need to accompany me any farther. Run as far as you can before
he comes back.”

Yet the cats waited as I retrieved the head of the cacica from the ground where Bee
had perforce left her. “Your Highness, you have been generous in aiding us. I feel
obliged to confess that I am taking you to Haübey, not to Caonabo.”

She regarded me unblinking with a stare I was glad I had never had to face down while
she sat on the duho, the seat of power. “Explain yourself.”

“Your brother the cacique made a bargain with me. He said he would get me to Europa
if I would take you to your exiled son Haübey. I accepted because reaching Europa
was the only chance I had to get my husband back. The cacique promised me that Haübey
will take you back to Sharagua, and thus to Caonabo.”