The Night Voice (18 page)

Wayfarer did so as she heard Shade rumble shortly. Something shook the low branches at the gulley's far end.

A silver-gray majay-hì pushed out through the brush.

“Chap!” Wayfarer shouted, running to him.

There had been a time he was so sacred, she did not dare touch him. Then there was a time when she would but was still in awe of him. And later, even needing him curled up beside her at night, she found the old reverence was still there.

Now she skidded in, fell to her knees, and threw her arms around Chap, nearly knocking him over and sending both of them tumbling. Much as she had come to adore Shade, she had missed the one who nurtured her earliest self-discoveries.

“Oh, Chap!” she cried again, even as he grumbled at her. “You are safe . . . safe!”

—Yes . . . I missed you too, but enough . . . Wayfarer, enough!—

She had barely sat back, determined not to cry, when the brush beyond Chap rustled and tree branches parted.

Osha emerged into the gulley's end, and Wayfarer's body clenched.

He stopped just beyond the trees, looked her up and down, and then dropped his gaze.

A part of her still clung to him. Another part found him a distraction for the mix of resentment, betrayal, and longing she still felt toward him. This was why she had stopped going to see him a moon ago.

Wynn had sent him away, but Osha still kept her with him . . . inside.

Chap shoved his head into Wayfarer's shoulder.

—Not now . . . There is much to do—

She should have reveled in the sound of memory-words in her mind from him.

Some of the pack were closing in, a few rumbling softly. None of them knew him, but they knew he was not one of them. She never had a chance to show them.

A wide and stout form with loose red hair thrashed out of the trees behind Osha.

Even at night by the glowing lanterns, Wayfarer recognized him. He was a friend of Chane's who had helped them escape from Calm Seatt. Osha stepped closer behind Chap, watching her again. Even before she realized what all of this meant . . .

—We have . . . the three orbs—

“Where is Chane?” she asked Chap.

“Back in the city, guarding our cargo,” Osha answered.

Wayfarer looked up once to see the scowl on his horselike face. And then Vreuvillä appeared, standing over Wayfarer.

“What is the meaning of this overly late visit?” the priestess demanded.

“Forgive us,” Osha answered. “It was necessary.”

His use of the Lhoin'na dialect had improved.

Wayfarer ignored him and focused on Chap. In recent days, she had
worked with Shade on something new. The sharing of memories involved more than mere images, sounds, and touch and smell. There were emotions connected to them.

Wayfarer had shared memory after memory of Chap with Shade, his daughter, showing that daughter how Chap had protected her, befriended her, given her comfort. She hoped this might ease some of Shade's own resentments toward her father.

Now Wayfarer twisted on her knees away from Vreuvillä and looked back. Shade had stepped forward within reach, likely out of habit, for they needed touch to speak her way. She did not approach her father, though at least she was not bristling with hackles raised.

Shade huffed once at her father.

Chap stared back at her, wide-eyed and motionless, perhaps afraid to do anything to ruin even so little acknowledgment.

Wayfarer turned the other way and looked up at Vreuvillä, though she never got out a word.

“Yes, I see it is time,” the priestess said, her voice tight as if restraining something. “And you are done learning . . . at least what you are.”

Wayfarer rose up and nodded.

“You will come again to finish,” Vreuvillä said quietly, “when there is time again.”

Wayfarer could only nod, swallow hard, and look around the gulley at its lanterns and all of the majay-hì. This was not her home; that would be somewhere else with Magiere, Leesil, and Chap when all was done. And still . . .

She had known this was coming and did not like it.

• • •

Hidden among the trees and dense foliage, Chuillyon absorbed all that he saw and heard. It was almost too much, even for missing pieces that left him frustrated.

After gathering her belongings and saying short good-byes, Wayfarer left with Osha, the dwarf, and the silver-gray majay-hì, and Shade as well.

Yes, I see it is time.

The vexing priestess's words were the crux, but time for what? In a long life in the light of Chârmun, Chuillyon hated the darkness of ignorance most of all. And he was going to do something about that.

U
pon reaching the one city of the Lhoin'na, Chap and the others headed for the stable. After lodging the wagon and horses, they decided to find an inn for the night. Osha mentioned he already had one in mind.

Chap then communicated to Wayfarer that she and Osha should accompany Ore-Locks the following day when he went to purchase supplies.

Standing near the wagon's back, Ore-Locks frowned when Wayfarer related this.

“I do not need the assistance of a boy and a girl in bartering,” he argued.

“Chap thinks our presence might make others here more . . . friendly,” Wayfarer added.

Ore-Locks scowled but did not argue. “Supplies for a longer journey, even beyond the Sky-Cutter, could take more than a day. I assume we are to help resupply the others we are traveling to join?”

Chane nodded absently, and to Chap it appeared the undead was preoccupied. This time, he wished he
could
dip into that undead's surface thoughts. Still, his mind was busy with other concerns. He had caught some things about the route from the young stonewalker, but not enough for his liking. And facing his daughter also worried him.

Shade lingered near Wayfarer. Whatever had happened between her and Wayfarer in two moons had changed them both.

Chap did not want to risk losing what little acceptance he seemed to have gained from his daughter.

“This time, we will not need to search for the seatt or its entrance,” Chane said while fidgeting strangely, “so the journey will not take as long. But Ore-Locks, please do not wear out the patience of the local merchants.”

Ore-Locks scoffed. “If they cannot barter adequately, that is not my fault!”

“A little restraint, please,” Chane advised. “That is all I ask.”

His voice sounded strained, and Chap studied him closely. A light sheen glistened off his pale face. Chap had no intention of asking what was wrong. If Chane were alive, he might have looked ill. Was that even possible for a vampire?

Again, Chap had other pressing thoughts.

Since arriving in this land, he had not stopped thinking about the moment when he, Chane, and Ore-Locks had passed through a large clearing. Even before arriving there, he had seen a glowing building ahead behind the trees, vines, and choking undergrowth.

Though Chap had never seen Chârmun for himself, he had
seen
it in the memory of someone else. Years ago, he had caught the deep memories of Most Aged Father, the ancient and decrepit leader of the Anmaglâhk.

Though it was difficult to believe, Most Aged Father was at least a thousand years old.

Once called Sorhkafâré, he had taken a cutting from Chârmun before leading others all the way to the eastern continent to found the territories of the an'Cróan. While reading the memories of the paranoid madman, Chap had seen an image of First Glade as it had looked a thousand years ago—and Chârmun within that place.

For some time now Chap had contemplated confronting his kin, the Fay, one more time. He had broken with them when they had once attempted to kill Wynn. Due to an error of the same thaumaturgical ritual that allowed Wynn
to hear him, she had unwittingly overheard him speaking to his kin. Their outrage and reaction had been swift upon realizing that an outsider was aware of them. He had been forced to defend her in an ugly battle and, in the end, had broken with them.

He needed answers, and his kin before his birth into this world might be the only ones to supply them.

“Do we have enough coin to lodge all of us?” Wayfarer asked quietly. She had not spoken much since leaving the forest.

“We may not need to pay,” Osha answered. “The innkeeper knows I train with the Shé'ith.”

Hoisting one chest from the wagon, he ushered Wayfarer and Shade toward the stable's open bay doors. Chane and Ore-Locks carried the other two chests as Chap contemplated Osha's claim.

It seemed the Lhoin'na and the an'Cróan had some customs in common. Though anmaglâhk did not earn wages for service, they were given food and shelter. Perhaps Shé'ith were viewed here in the same way. After all, they did function as their people's protectors.

Osha led the way, and after a short walk down immaculately manicured paths off the street, he approached a one-story building constructed of light gray stone, and he set down his chest.

“Please wait here,” he said in Numanese before entering alone. Only moments later, he returned to direct everyone around the inn's rear.

“We have three rooms,” he said, indicating the closest oak doors in the inn's rear wall.

Chap looked up at Wayfarer.
—I . . . will stay . . . with you—

Wayfarer might have hesitated and glanced toward Shade, who had already sauntered off to the nearest door. Then she nodded.

The distribution of rooms took no discussion. Chane and Ore-Locks took the third. Osha said he would take the second to himself, but he opened the first door for Wayfarer. Without waiting to see her in, he hauled off his one chest toward his own room.

Wayfarer quickly stepped inside, and Chap followed, as did Shade. This still took him aback, though it should not have, considering how close Shade and Wayfarer appeared to have become. His daughter did not display anything more than acceptance toward him, and he was still afraid of losing even that much of a change.

Something was different. She was different. Still, he had—would—never blame her for any coldness toward him. And it was not the first or thousandth time that he had thought of Lily.

Several years ago, during his time in the an'Cróan lands, he had been accepted as mate by the white majay-hì whom Wynn named Lily. He knew even then that he could not remain with her and would soon leave with Magiere and Leesil and Wynn. But he had also known that at some point, Wynn would be forced to part from them as well.

Chap spent his last night in the an'Cróan forest with Lily, trying to express to her all that must be done. Someone had to be sent to watch over Wynn, for the Fay still feared any mortal knowing of them and perhaps whatever part they had played in all that had happened before or after Magiere's birth. Chap knew they might eventually make another attempt on Wynn's life.

He gave Lily every memory he held.

In faltering with memory-speak, he begged her for something terrible.

One of their children would be condemned to banishment, or at least that was how a child would see it. Only someone akin to himself might stand between Wynn and the Fay. Even just any majay-hì was not enough. And once Chap finished his request, his begging, he lay there with Lily the rest of that night in close silence.

He left her before dawn, her eyes still closed, though she could not have been asleep. Moons later, his children had been born without him, including the one chosen—the one Wynn had later named Shade.

Shade had come to love Wynn, the two now as close as sisters. Something like this appeared to have started between Wayfarer and Shade, though the
complications among the three concerning Osha could not be easy on any of them. Regardless, Shade still blamed Chap for forcing her away from home, siblings, and a mother in the absence of a father.

Among other sins, this was another for which Chap could never ask forgiveness.

“Only one bed,” Wayfarer said, looking around the tiny room. “Shade, perhaps you could keep Osha company for tonight, so he is not all alone?”

Before Shade could answer, Chap stepped in and spoke to Wayfarer.

—I must . . . go out—

She turned to him with wide green eyes. “At night? Why?”

Shade turned and fixed upon him.

Chap wasn't certain what to think of this and remained focused on Wayfarer. And his answer could not be a lie, not to her.

—It is time . . . I speak . . . with . . . my kin . . . at . . . Chârmun—

“The Fay?” Wayfarer whispered. Her breaths quickened. “You will talk with them? Why?”

Before he could answer, two clear words rose in his own thoughts.

—
Not
 . . .
Chârmun
—

Chap's hackles stiffened in a back step at those sudden words in his mind. This had never happened before. No one other than his kin had ever spoken to him this way, and not in . . . using . . .

Memory-words?

Shade huffed once.

—
Chârmun . . . is not . . . true . . . First Glade—

Chap could only stare at his daughter as she stood watching him. How had she done that?

Those six broken-up words had come in Wynn's voice out of his memories. No creature but another Fay-born with memory-speak—like the majay-hì—could have found such memories, and they would have had to touch him to do so. Most did not understand language—and a specific one—to use memory-words instead of memory-speak.

Shade understood both, like himself, though she was far better with memory-speak.

Chap had always thought memory-words would work only with those who actually used spoken language. Obviously Shade had. And he had never considered anyone with such ability to be able to use it with him.

“Chap, what is wrong?”

Wayfarer's question startled him as much as Shade's first two words. For a moment, he did not know how to answer. Did Wayfarer know Shade could do this?

—No . . . first try . . . with our kind—

Was this as unsettling for others he spoke to this way as it was for him now? And all the more so with his own daughter. He reached out hesitantly to search for words in Shade's surface thoughts, and there they were, out of her memories.

“Chap, answer me . . . please!”

Startled again, he looked up into Wayfarer's panicked eyes.

—It is . . . nothing— . . . —but . . . where is . . . the true . . . First Glade?—

Almost instantly, he saw a ring of aspens in Wayfarer's mind. The girl glanced at Shade and then back to Chap. He answered Wayfarer's unspoken question about Shade.

—Yes . . . she told . . . me—

Wayfarer appeared troubled now. Perhaps this was something not meant for outsiders. Then he saw more thoughts surfacing in the girl's mind.

Vreuvillä passed from the dense forest into a clearing that held that ring of aspens. She headed straight for it, entered, and in standing at its center, she spread her arms.

More memory-words rose in Chap's mind.

—They come . . . the Fay . . . come . . . there—

On impulse, he tried calling up words in Shade's mind.

—Can you take me . . . to this place?—

A brief pause passed.

—
Yes
—

He turned instantly to Wayfarer.

—
Shade . . . and I . . . will go
—
 . . . —You . . . remain . . . here
—
 . . . —Please open . . . the door—

He would not expose Wayfarer to his kin for anything, no matter that it appeared Vreuvillä somehow communed with his kin for unknown reasons. Chap could not help wondering of what the priestess might be capable and what she had been teaching the girl.

With a troubled expression, Wayfarer opened the door to let them out.

Chap slipped into the night streets, following his daughter.

• • •

Inside the small room that Chane shared with Ore-Locks, he set down the chest he carried. His skin felt as if insects crawled all over him. It had begun the moment he had driven their wagon across the grassy plain to enter the forest.

He had been to this land before, and he had not forgotten its effects upon him as an undead, even while wearing the “ring of nothing.” No undead could enter lands protected by Chârmun or one of its “children.” The forest would sense such an intruder, confuse it with madness and fright, and the majay-hì would come to pull it down and slaughter it.

Chane had known what to expect, but he had forgotten how bad it would become, even with his special protection.

The moment the wagon passed into the trees, he had begun to feel . . . something.

A nervous twitch squirmed through his body. Then a tingling, annoying itch began swarming erratically over his skin. With no breeze, he had still felt a sensation like dust blown over his exposed face and hands.

The prickling grew.

The forest did not fully sense him, but it sought to do so. It examined
him and would not stop, because it could not quite determine what he was. This would continue until he once again passed into the outer plain beyond the trees.

The forest's probing raised another, greater concern.

“Are you all right?” Ore-Locks asked.

Chane did not answer. “I have to go back out,” he said.

Ore-Locks set down his chest next to Chane's. “Now?”

“There is something I must gather that can only be found here.”

“Should I come with you?”

“No, stay, guard the orbs. If you come, we will have to ask Osha or Chap to watch over them, and that would bring more questions. My task is . . . private.”

Ore-Locks frowned. “We have already talked about you and your secrets.”

“Not secret, but private. There are flowers that only grow here that I used up in making the healing concoction. I want to gather more.” He paused and decided not to mention—for the moment—that such could also be used as a poison against the undead.

“Do you still trust me?” he asked.

Ore-Locks crossed his arms. “You know I do. Get on with it, but try not to take too long.”

Chane left his personal pack and took only Welstiel's old one as he left.

• • •

Chap followed Shade down the same path he had taken that day with Osha and Ore-Locks. Soon enough, and well before spotting the glow of Chârmun ahead, Shade cut into the undergrowth, and the going became much harder while he kept as silent as possible.