Destiny: A Story of the Fey

Destiny

Kristine Kathryn Rusch

Copyright Information

Destiny

Copyright © 2012 by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

First published in French as “Destin” in
Faeries: Toutes Les Fantasy
, Hiver 2000-2001 First published in English in
Creature Fantastic
, edited by Denise Little, Daw Books, 2001

Published by WMG Publishing

Cover and Layout copyright © 2012 by WMG Publishing

Cover and layout design by Allyson Longueira/WMG Publishing

Cover art copyright © 2012 by Dirk Berger

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

Destiny

Kristine Kathryn Rusch

Solanda walked the cobblestone streets of Nir, the capitol city of Nye, her tail up. She had a meeting with Rugar, the son of the Black King. He had sent a Wisp to find her, and it had taken the little creature nearly a day to do so.

Solanda was in her cat form, as she had been since the Fey captured this repressed country — and thus very difficult to find. The Nyeians had many faults — they were prissy, overdressed, and pasty faced, not to mention abominably poor soldiers — but they did treat their animals well. She had found a family who fed her to excess, allowed her to roam outside, and pampered her as no cat should be pampered.

How appalled they would be if they ever discovered the golden cat their daughter had adopted was really a Fey Shapeshifter.

Solanda’s tail twitched once in amusement. Every day she imagined eating her lovely tuna dinner in the glass plate that the family gave her, and then Shifting into her Fey form just to say thank you.

She didn’t know what would appall the Nyeians the most: the fact that she was Fey, or the fact that she would be naked. She doubted any of them had seen a naked woman before: the wife managed to change her clothing one piece at a time, without ever taking it all off at once, and the husband didn’t seem to think this unusual. He would probably be more shocked than his wife at the appearance of a naked Fey woman in his house. He would probably fall over in a dead faint.

Only the daughter, a girl of five, was redeemable. Esmerelda was a good child. She had to be. She was raised Nyeian. Her mother trussed her in layers upon frothy layers of clothing, making movement nearly impossible, and then yelled at the poor child whenever she did something natural, like running.

Sometimes Solanda thought she went back to that household at night because she felt sorry for the child. But in truth, she stayed there because they gave her fish properly deboned and they brushed her, and they put a warm cedar bed in Esmerelda’s room. Esmerelda, good child that she was, never confessed to her parents that she often picked up the cat and carried her to bed, cuddling with her long into the night.

And Solanda would never tell anyone — Fey or Nyeian — that sometimes she purred when she slept, pressed against the little girl’s back.

Shifters were supposed to be the coldest of the Fey, the most fickle members of a warrior people, incapable of real emotion, flighty, restless and completely self-absorbed. They also were supposed to take on the characteristics of the animal they had chosen to Shift into, so Solanda’s fickleness — theoretically — was doubly compounded by the fact that she had chosen the cat as her alternate Shape.

Of course, it didn’t matter how many times she had proven herself trustworthy. In the war against Nye, such as it was, she had done intelligence for the Black King. She had worn her cat form and slinked into Nyeian villages, soldiers’ camps, and mess halls, keeping her ears open, and learning more than she should have.

Most countries that the Fey had fought had banned strange animals from military compounds. Solanda had heard that the Co had gone so far as to slaughter any strays, thinking they might be Fey reconnaissance. But the Nyeians had a fondness for cats, and while they kept stray dogs out of their camps, they fed cats on the side.

Solanda had spent most of the war the pampered resident of a Nyeian general’s tent. He used to feed her bits of meat off his own plate while telling his staff his battle plans for the next day.

And then when he fell into his snoring sleep, she would go to the nearest Shadowlands and inform the Fey general of all she had heard. Toward the end of the war, she reported directly to the Black King, who shook his head at the stupidity of the Nyeians.

Conquering Nye was the first step toward world dominion. The Black King didn’t say that, but Solanda knew that was his goal. The Fey were a great warrior people, but they only owned half the world right now. The Black King — and the Black Throne — wanted all of it.

Solanda entered the merchant sector of Nir, and silently cursed to herself. The merchants often shooed cats out of this area. Her presence here was suddenly noticeable, and she didn’t dare Shift. She’d shock an entire community of Nyeians — which would probably be good for them.

Scents from the nearby vendor stalls caught her nose. Fried beef, more fish, some sort of vegetable something which turned her feline stomach. The fish was enticing. It almost made her forget that she was here because she had been summoned by the Black King’s son.

Rugar had been her commander for part of the Nye campaign. He was an able warrior, frustrated under his father’s tight leash. The problem with Rugar was that he believed himself to be the equal of his father, and he was not.

Solanda would rather work with the Black King, ruthless as he was, than with his less-talented son.

The tall stone buildings prevented the sun from getting to the cobblestone. The stone was wet beneath her paws from the morning rain. The air was thick and muggy, making the six layers of clothes the Nyeians wore look even more uncomfortable.

The handful of Fey who were on the street wore their traditional uniform — a leather jerkin and pants. The Fey were so much taller than the Nyeians that even if they didn’t dress differently, they would be noticeable.

She ducked under some clothing stalls, past the buildings that housed the year-round indoor merchants, and turned on the street that led to the Bank of Nye. The Black King had taken over the building. It was four stories of gray stone, towering over the buildings around it — as close to a palace as there was in Nye.

She sighed heavily and crossed the street, climbing up the stone steps and staring at the large stone door. She’d have to Shift just to get into the place.

Then she saw a nearby window ledge. The window was open. She leaped onto the ledge and jumped to the stone floor inside. She thought this building unusually cold for a Nyeian structure. The house where she was pampered was made of wood, and had thick rugs on its floors. Every surface was soft, and the air perfumed.

Here the air smelled like chalk and the stone was chilly despite the heat. There were no guards in this room, although there should have been. It looked like it was someone’s office — a desk in the center, chairs on the side for supplicants.

The door was open and led into a cavernous hallway. She heard voices and followed them. Several Fey guards huddled in an alcove. They were Infantry and young, tall even though they hadn’t come into their magic yet. Their dark skin and black hair was a welcome sight. She’d gotten tired of looking at the pasty-faced Nyeians, and hadn’t realized how much she missed her own kind.

“…fool’s errand, don’t you think?” One of the young men said.

“If it’s so important, why doesn’t the Black King go?” another asked.

“Blue Isle is important,” said a young woman. “It’s the only stop between here and Leut.”

Leut was the continent on the other side of the Infrin Sea. The Black King wanted to go there more than anything. He wanted to conquer as much of the world as he could before he died.

“If we are going to conquer the world,” the girl was saying, “we have to go through Blue Isle first.”

“Then it doesn’t make sense,” the first man said. “Why send Rugar? He’s not as good a commander as his father.”

“Maybe,” Solanda said in her most authoritative voice, “the best commander in the world has a plan that’s too sophisticated for you to understand.”

They all turned. They had similar upswept features, narrow faces, and pointed ears. Solanda had often thought that her people looked like foxes — most of them, anyway. Shifters, like her, often took some of the characteristics of their animals. Her hair and skin were more golden than dark, and she had the Shifter’s mark on her chin — a birthmark that established who and what she was when she was in her Fey form.

But they couldn’t tell now. All they could do was tell that a cat had spoken to them.

“Well,” she said, sitting on her haunches and wrapping her tail around her paws. “Where do I start? Do I reprimand you for gossiping in the middle of the day? Do I tell you that I got into the building through a window that some careless fool left open and, if I had been some young Nyeian bent on assassination, I could have walked right past you and you wouldn’t have noticed? Or do I ask that one of you poor, magickless fools get me a robe so that I can have my meeting with Rugar?”

They didn’t answer her. She raised her chin slightly. Amazing how she could intimidate them, even though she was so very small.

“By the Powers,” she snapped. “Get me a robe. And put a guard on the window.”

She nodded over her head toward the room she had just come out of.

Two of the young men ran off toward the room. The third young man hurried off, presumably to get her a robe. That left the young woman.

“I really should report this,” Solanda said. “Technically, you put the Black King’s life in danger.”

“From the Nyeians?” the young woman snorted. “You snarl at them and they run. They couldn’t fight us in the war, and once they found out that they’d remain in charge of their businesses, they really didn’t care that we took them over. Why would one of them try to get in here?”

“Revenge?” Solanda said. “We did, after all, slaughter half their army. Those young men were related to someone.”

“Then that should take away half the threat, shouldn’t it?” the young woman said. “After all, the Nyeians believe that only men are capable of fighting.”

Solanda felt amused. “I have a hunch that belief has changed since they were defeated by us. What’s your name?”

“Licia,” the girl said.

“You haven’t come into your magic yet, have you?”

The girl straightened her shoulder. Magic was always a touchy subject with Infantry. They were tall enough to show that they would get magic, but chances were if they neared adulthood and still hadn’t come into their magic, their abilities would be slight.

“No,” she said.

“You showed a tactician’s mind. Why do you waste it gossiping with people who aren’t worthy of you?”

The girl straightened her shoulders. “I don’t normally guard. I am usually in the field.”

“But there’s no field at the moment, is there?” Solanda said. “What are you doing here?”

“Rugar asked me to come. He says his daughter needs more swordfighting training.”

Solanda narrowed her eyes. Jewel, Rugar’s middle child, was the most promising of all his raggedy offspring. She hadn’t come into her magic yet either, but her height and her heritage suggested when her magic came it would be powerful. She was a good swordswoman now — Solanda had seen her fight in the last of the Nye campaign.

“Why would she need more training?”

Licia shrugged. “I suspect it has something to do with the fight Rugar had with his father this morning.”

Solanda tilted her head to show her interest.

“They just left that room you came through. They were screaming at each other all morning long.”

“About what?” Solanda asked, realizing that she was now gossiping. But she didn’t want to go into a meeting with Rugar with less knowledge than he had.

“About going to Blue Isle. Rugar says he won’t go without his daughter.”

“Not his other children?”

“He didn’t mention them.” Then Licia smiled. “At least not at the top of his voice.”

Solanda suppressed a sigh. The Black King favored Jewel. He felt that her brothers were idiots — and he was right. Their magic was slight, like their mother’s had been. Rugar’s entire life had been about defying his father. Rugar should have married a woman who had great magic. Instead, he had chosen someone he could control.

The young man returned with a flowing golden robe that was clearly of Nyeian origin. Solanda didn’t ask where he had gotten it. She didn’t thank him. Instead, she said, “Place it over me.”