Elvenbane (20 page)

She didn’t ask what she was thinking, which was:
Where were you when we needed you? Why haven’t you protected me from the rest? And why did you let me go on believing that I was Kin
?

Alara just sighed, though she lowered her head a little. “I know you’re not an animal, Lashana,” she said softly, some of the cold flatness gone from her voice. “And none of this was your fault. There’s no sin in
not
being of the Kin, though there are more than a few dragons who would tell you that I’m mad to say that. I don’t blame you for the fight—and I’m very glad Keman stood up to that bully.”

Shana sighed with her own feeling of relief. But her relief was short-lived.

“You disobeyed by staying out after dark, though,” Alara continued, “and I’m going to have to punish you for that. If I don’t, Myre will think she doesn’t have to obey either, and she’ll be out on the wing with Rovylera all night. She gets into quite enough trouble as it is.”

Shana’s heart sank. There was only one punishment Foster Mother was likely to mete out to
her
, given her love of the open sky and the hills.

“You’re staying in or near the lair until I tell you differently,” Alara finished, putting the seal on Shana’s fears. “That should teach you a suitable lesson, I think.”

“Yes, Foster Mother,” Shana said unhappily. “But—”

“Not another word. You heard me.” Alara drew herself back up to her full height, and her eyes glistened in the blue glow from the lights beside the pathway.

“Yes, Foster Mother.” Shana’s heart sank, and she stared at her feet, her hands clasped behind her back.

She heard something that almost sounded like a chuckle. “You’ll find Keman by the otter pool.
He’s
staying confined to the lair too, for the present.” As Shana lifted her head and looked up at her foster mother in astonishment, Alara turned lithely and vanished into the darkness of the caverns, heading into the unlit areas where only she went.

Shana’s heart lifted a little, and she sighed and rubbed her eyes, still sore from all her weeping yesterday. At least, if she was going to be confined, she wouldn’t be alone!

She trudged up the pathway to the rear entrance; no longer a hidden exit-point, since there was so much activity around it, what with Keman’s pets and all, that there was no concealing the fact that it was there. The entrance was in sight when Shana literally ran into Myre. The dragonet was lurking in an alcove beside the passageway, waiting for someone. Probably Keman; she faced the entrance rather than the passage. Shana didn’t see her until the girl was on top of her, and Myre squealed and jumped in surprise when Shana stepped on her tail.

Shana jumped back a pace or two herself, and her mood was not improved when Myre turned around and glared at her, with her upper lip curled in a sneer. Shana balled her hands into fists, and thought longingly of hitting her. Not that it would do much good—Shana would probably only hurt her hand.
Twist her wings, maybe, or put a knot in her tail
…

“I told Mother you were out all night,” Myre taunted, in a thin, whiny voice. “I told her you ran off and didn’t come back all night long. I told her that you were nothing but a wild animal, and she ought to have a leash for you and keep you tied up at night.”

She sounded just like Rovy. Was that where Myre was getting everything now? Shana kept a tight rein on her temper and pretended to ignore the dragonet. She just stared past her for a moment, then blinked, as if brought back from a thought.

“Did you say something?” she asked. “I thought I heard Rovylern for a moment, and I wondered how
he’d
gotten down here.”

While Myre’s jaw dropped, Shana started for the entrance, intending to walk past Myre, but the youngster moved to block her path.

“You’re supposed to stay in the lair!” Myre hissed. “Mother said so! She told you to stay in the lair, and she told Keman to stay here too! I’m going to go tell Mother!”

“Go right ahead, tattletale.” Shana spat, losing her temper, as she felt her face flush with anger. “You go right ahead and see what she says!”

“All right, I will!” Myre scampered off, up towards the heart of the lair, calling back over her shoulder, “I will! I will! See if I don’t! Then you’ll be sorry!”

Shana’s anger seethed and boiled over; she felt her chest growing tight, and clenched her fists so hard her knuckles ached. Never had she wanted anything so badly as she wanted to
hit
the little snitch—

And a rock as big as her fist separated from the wall with a
crack
. It shot past her, hurtling into the gloom of the lair like a diving falcon.

There was a dull
thud
. The blot of shadow that was Myre squealed. “You
hit
me!” came the accusing wail. “You
hit
me! That
hurt!
I’m going to tell Mother! I’m going to tell, I’m going to tell! You’re going to
get
it, little rat!”

The shadow blot cringed as if expecting another blow, then came the scratching of claws on stone as the dragonet broke into a run. Myre vanished around a bend of the path that took her out of Shana’s line of sight.

Shana stood frozen in the middle of the path, stunned disbelief holding her motionless. That rock—it had come away from the wall and launched itself at Myre with the same accuracy she’d had last night.

I did it
! She thought wonderingly, her heart beating faster.
I did it, I really did; it wasn’t a dream or anything else. And I didn’t lose the power either! I’ve got to try it again
!

A fleeting moment of guilt stopped her as she remembered the ground squirrel.

No, I have to have this, I have to be able to use it
. She couldn’t let Rovy threaten her or Keman again.
He’s too big and too mean, and I don’t know what he might do after yesterday
.

She directed her thought at a similar lump of stone lying loose beside the pathway. But now, no matter how hard she thought about it, how hard she “squeezed,” nothing happened. She sat down beside the path, all her excitement deflated. She sagged right down onto the cool rock, and tried to imagine what could have gone wrong.

I did it just now. I know I did it. It couldn’t have been anyone else but me
. No matter how hard she thought, she couldn’t come up with an answer to the puzzle. First she had the power, then she didn’t—what was the difference?

She rubbed her aching head, and thought resentfully of how Myre always seemed to ruin everything.
That stupid Myre, she gets me so mad
—
she gets me in trouble, and she gets Keman in trouble and she calls me bad names, and
nothing
ever happens to her! It isn’t fair! I’d like to hit her so hard
—

A handful of gravel launched itself from the pathway into the darkness. Once again, surprise broke Shana’s anger. But this time, now that she was looking for causes, she made the missing connection.

When I get angry
—
I c
an throw things. When I’m not, I can’t. Fire and Rain! That’s the opposite of what happens to Keman and the others. The madder they get, the less they’re able to do…

She scrambled to her feet, eager to find Keman and tell him of her new found powers. She ran, excitement giving her extra speed—but stopped just short of the entrance, as something else occurred to her.

If she told him, he’d tell Foster Mother, and Alara would have to tell the rest. They might not like it. They might think Shana was dangerous. But if she didn’t tell anyone, she could do things without their knowing. She could protect herself when Keman wasn’t around.

I’d better not. I hate keeping it a secret, but I’d better not. Not if I want to stay safe.

She resumed her search for her foster brother, but at a sedate walk.

SHANA CROUCHED BESIDE the otter’s pool, her eyes narrowed in concentration. The otter was in his den, but not asleep; that much she could tell just from the “feel” of his mind. She extended a mental hand, delicately, toward him, and imagined herself to be him; felt her limbs shorten, her body lengthen, fur cover her skin…

Her change wasn’t a physical one, as Keman’s would be, but in the mental image of herself. The moment she felt herself to
be
an otter, and one with him, she made contact with the “thoughts” of the playful beast.

:
Warm-sun, warm-water
.: The otter contemplated what lay beyond the underwater entrance to his den, rolled over on his back, and scratched his nose. His stomach was full, and he was wide awake; not particularly interested in napping again. The inside of the den was dimly lit by the sunlight filtering through the water and reflecting up into the burrow.
.-Sleep-not
,: he decided.
:Play-now
:

Shana felt him slip into the water before she saw his sleek form shooting across the bottom of the pond.

Whether or not this was what Foster Mother had meant when she told Shana to “become one with the ground squirrel,” Shana didn’t know. Nor did she much care; ever since she had learned to “hear” the thoughts of the tiniest animals, an entire world had opened up to her. This much of her new powers she could share with Keman; her foster brother expected her to learn to sense animal-thoughts, although he himself could not. After all, Alara had been teaching her with an eye to just that development.

And since he wasn’t suspecting anything, he wasn’t surprised by the extent of her ability.

The otter looked up through the water, spotted her on the bank, and shot out of the water to greet her. She amused him by holding pebbles afloat just above the surface, and letting him slap at them. Then she submerged the smooth stones and let him chase them around the pond. It was great fun for both of them, though a little tiring for her. Another lesson learned: working this “magic” was real work, and took a great deal out of her. She could not imagine how Alara managed her work without becoming exhausted.

Shana no longer had to be in a temper to work her brand of magic, she only had to think in a certain way, wanting something so badly that her emotions became involved—though the angrier she became, the stronger her magic was. Emotion definitely played a part, the stronger, the better.

She had discovered another talent, though what use it could be, she had no idea. She could find water, just by being thirsty. She had followed Keman out on one of his explorations, and forgot to take a water flask with her. By midmorning she was half-mad with thirst—and at that point had felt a peculiar tugging at her wrist, as if something had hold of her and was trying to lead her away.

Curious, she had followed where the signal led, and had discovered a patch of the sajus-brush and fir-grass that marked a “seep.” A few moments of digging at the foot of the bushes, and patience, and she had her drink. Once her thirst was satisfied, the “tugging” stopped.

It was an interesting talent, but right now, her ability to move things about was of more use, and a great deal more fun. She’d even managed to get Rovy and Myre quarreling a time or two, by plinking them with small stones and letting each think that the other had been poking him.

And she’d been able to make Rovy think she had taken to the hills when in fact she was hiding near the lair, by making the sounds of someone running up a path on two feet and bringing down showers of gravel from the side of the hill. He’d been completely taken in, enough to follow the path until it narrowed to a point where he couldn’t use it anymore. If he’d been less lazy he
could
have taken to the rock and climbed, but Shana had judged his temper correctly; it was too much effort to follow her at that point. He was a bully, but he preferred to use a minimum of effort, a characteristic Shana and Keman were able to use to their advantage.

And of course, she was able to have fun with the otter using her magic, and with other small creatures that were both curious and playful. There were night-birds that greatly enjoyed the flocks of moths she called to her, and would circle around her, calling to each other and snatching the moths out of the air. There was also a kind of long-legged runner-bird that would even play “fetch,” provided
she
did not move.

Shana laughed, and sent the pebbles through loops and dives; she turned the otter back on himself, so that he was chasing a pebble that was chasing his tail. The otter redoubled his efforts to catch the shiny bit of stone, both parties having the times of their lives, and both oblivious to the rest of the world.

Alara raised her head from her foreclaws as a sound like a jayee’s trill sang inside her mind, briefly interrupting her perusal of the weather patterns for many leagues around the Lair.

It came again. She stared down from her cliff-top perch at the Lair, took a moment to focus and identify the source, and dismissed it. The child was playing with the otter. So long as it kept her content, and she was no longer so unhappy about not being of the Kin, what harm could there possibly be?

She put her head back down on her crossed foreclaws, closed her eyes, and went back to her task of weather-calling. The plains where the herds of this Lair roamed were dry and badly in need of a good, soaking rain. Summer had brought no more than half the expected rainfall, and now that fall was here, the rains had dried up altogether. Ordinarily Alara would not have meddled in weather patterns at this time of year other than to call storms for the Thunder Dance, but she had no choice but to act if things were to be returned to normal. She must play with the weather because the elven lords had already done so, twisting the storm-flows out of all resemblance to the normal autumn systems.

Now she must restore them, or else the herds would starve and many animals would die; animals the Lair needed to see it through the winter. And who knew what other problems this interference had caused? She only watched over her Lair’s territory; elsewhere there could be further droughts, or floods, and not all shamans were weather-workers.

At least she could work her will knowing that those who had made the changes would assume some other rival was revoking what they had done.

Of course, to ensure this, she would have to go out of the Lair again, taking the guise of a young elven messenger, and deliver a cleverly worded, anonymous message to the lord responsible for this foolish and careless tampering. That, too, was part of her duty, for all that it took her away from her children. And Myre was being so troublesome…

She would worry about that when the time came. For now, it would be enough to set things aright.

She settled back into her trance, sending her mind into the sky and becoming one with the world around her. She moved from the earth where she lay, to the heavens; reaching out to the winds and the clouds, calling them gently back to the paths they
should
be taking. And canceling the spells that had sent and held them elsewhere.

Another trill brushed the surface of her mind, but now that she had identified young Shana’s magic-working, it was easy to ignore it.

Mostly. There was always a part of her that was “mother” first and “shaman” second.

Still, she wished the child were a little quieter, with an unoccupied corner of her mind that worried at the strength of the disturbance. She couldn’t help wondering who else could “hear” the child, and if they knew who it was that was making the noise.

She dismissed the thought as it began to intrude on her task. Nothing was going to happen to Shana at the moment. Any dragon with the ability to “hear” her would also be one of the seniors in the Lair, and the seniors would come to the shaman before acting.

Restoring what the elves had twisted was rather like untangling several skeins of madly snarled yarn. Before she had finished, Alara was in something of a temper. There was not just
one
spell, there were layers upon layers of them, all interacting, some in quite peculiar ways.

Didn’t they ever pay any attention to the
consequences
before they did something, she thought resentfully. Or did they just wait until disaster hit, then shove things back into place by brute force?

She was beginning to think that the latter was the case, at least for the more powerful lords. The lesser seemed to create muddles like this one; piling spell atop spell until the entire structure collapsed, or warped into something no one intended, with effects that were completely unpredictable.

And
then, of
course, the powerful mages would have to intervene.

Provided the Kin don’t do so first, she thought, a little smugly.

She set to her task of unraveling and unweaving, determined to do the job properly, which took both time and energy. It took her most of the afternoon to set everything right, and by the time the rains were falling (as they should have been) on the parched grasslands, Alara was famished and short-tempered. She had been up on her retreat all day, and had begun this job fasting; all she wanted at the moment was a nice fat three-horn, or even two. Being hungry made her irritable, and her temper was not improved by finding three of the oldest dragons in the Lair waiting at the stone gazebo when she descended. Two were coiled within the marble edifice; one draped on the wide stone benches that rimmed the inside, and one sprawled on the floor. The third actually sat on the threshold of the entrance to her lair, sunning himself, and so positioned that he was keeping her from entering. She doubted that was an accident.

“Alara!” said the one on the floor, looking oh-so-innocent, which expression Alara did not in the least believe. “We’ve been waiting for you to come down. We knew you’d be hungry, so Anoa killed you a three-horn and left it in your lair.”

“Now, about that two-legged fosterling of yours—” Orolanela began hesitantly, raising her head from the bench at Alara’s approach. “She’s—”

“What?” Alara snapped impatiently, not in the least mollified by the bribe. “I thought we had all agreed after that episode with Rovylern that you all would leave her in peace so long as she didn’t do anything to cause quarrels between the youngsters!”

“I know that, but she’s noisy, shaman,” Anoahalo replied, calmly. “Magic-noisy. You know what I mean.
We
can hear her, and probably some of the others can, too—they just haven’t figured out who it is that’s making the disturbance.” She stretched, flexing her claws against the rough rock of the cave entrance. “Since most of them consider her an animal, they probably won’t ever make the connection—but you never know. And if they find out she has magic—well, I can’t say what they might or might not think. Or do. Especially Lori.”

Alara sighed, and wished she had hands to rub her aching head. Instead, she massaged her temple with a knuckle, hoping to ease the pain. “Is she bothering you?” she asked finally. “I really could care less what Lori says or does, so long as you seniors aren’t being bothered.”

“Well, no, not really,” the third, Keokeshala, said lazily, from his position on the floor of the gazebo. He yawned delicately, and smiled. “Interesting effect, that trill. She’s actually rather nice to listen to, if you like birds. It’s not that she’s annoying, it’s that she’s doing it at all. This wasn’t something we even thought about when we told you we’d leave her alone. What we want to know is, what do you intend to do about her?”

“I don’t intend to do anything about her, at least not at the moment,” Alara said flatly, coiling up around a sun-warmed rock and spreading her wings to the last evening rays. “I think she’s doing very well as she is. She isn’t hurting anything, she’s staying out of trouble, and these little tricks of hers keep her amused. What did you
want
me to do about her?”

Keoke laughed, and his smile broadened. “Not a thing, actually, at the moment. It’s rather fun to watch her learning what she can do, and leading Rovylern a merry chase. She’s awfully bright, you know. You might take her for Kin if you didn’t know any better.”

Anoa coughed politely, and shook her head, her spinal crest half-raised. “Well, I won’t go that far,” she said doubtfully, “but I do say she has a lot of potential. The fact is, Alara, we’ve been thinking. All this time we’ve been playing with this Prophecy, but it’s occurred to us that your little fosterling could well
be
the Elvenbane. I mean, we could make her the Elvenbane with a little nudging in the right direction. She’s got all the right credentials, so to speak. If she ever finds out what she is, and about her mother and father, she’s likely to be a little handful for you. I’d be willing to bet that you’d have a time keeping her here.”

Orola chuckled, and stretched her neck up to look Alara straight in the face. “We might as well stop dancing around the bush. Actually, we thought we would like you to
tell
her about her mother and father; about the elven lords and the humans, and everything else. To tell you the truth, Alara, once we realized she was working magic, it seemed to us that there was an opportunity here too good to be wasted. We’d like to turn her loose in their world and see what she can do.”

Keoke rolled his eyes and grinned, his tail twitching a little. “She ought to create a marvelous amount of havoc before she’s caught,” he said in a satisfied voice. “And if one of us went along to keep an eye on her, we could make sure she either got loose again, or simply couldn’t tell the elven lords anything about us.”

Keoke’s matter-of-fact tone of voice made Alara’s blood chill. She knew very well what he meant. If—no,
when
—Shana was caught, one of them would see to it that she died before revealing the secrets of the dragons.
They just want to use her, as if she were a two-horn to be petted then eaten at will, or a tool to be wielded until it breaks
.

“I think that’s a bit much, Keoke,” Orola objected mildly, lowering her lids over her eyes. “It’s a child, after all. Not Kin, but it hasn’t done us any harm, and it might provide us with a lot of entertainment if we take very good care of it.” She turned to Alara. “I agree, we should turn it loose among the elves, but I think we should assure its safety. There is a certain amount of honor involved here; we’ve taken on the child, we really are somewhat responsible for its safety. Just letting it go charging into danger is—distasteful.” Orola curled her tongue a little, as if she had bitten into something bitter. “It’s like—oh—eating one of your Keman’s pets. You don’t bring up something to trust you, then betray it.”