Secrets of the Night Special Edition (49 page)

Radegunda's mind was busy as she talked, rendering concentration difficult. Ever since Roric Gamal had seen her rabbit shift at her home, the memory had ruled her days and nights. What if he reported her to the druids? At the time of her last shape shift, she thought she could move quietly at an alcove in the palace entrance, to observe the comings and goings. But she hadn't counted on the dwarf children. She vowed never to shape shift again, at least, not while she lived here.

"And headaches?" Keriam asked. "His Majesty often suffers from severe headaches."

"Headaches, yes," Radegunda said, reaching for another labeled jar, setting it on the counter. "Feverfew."

She wished she could forget her fears as easily as she explained herbal cures. Further palace talk warned of a jackal prowling the nearby woods. What if that predator trespassed the palace grounds and found her in her rabbit body? No, she vowed, she wouldn't shape shift again.

* * *

"Bit of trouble, sir."

Roric looked up from the table at The Hungry Bear while one of his spies drew out a chair and sat across from him. Serving maids rushed to and fro, carrying trays laden with tasty dishes. Delicious fragrances of beef stew and apple pie wafted through the air, but Roric couldn't summon an appetite.

"What kind of trouble?" Roric asked after a long pull from his mug.

"Well . . ." The man shook his head, opening and closing his mouth.

Roric shoved his mug of corma toward the man. "Here, Calum, drink this while I order another." He raised his hand and caught the serving maid's attention--a different girl this time, not the pretty lass who'd given him such pleasure on his last visit--then pointed to the mug. He turned back to the spy. "Now, you were saying . . .?"

Calum gulped the drink and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "Well, you see, it's difficult to spy on the general at night because . . . because . . . a jackal!" he blurted, as if that word explained everything.

Roric frowned. "You're not telling me much. What’s this about a jackal?"

Calum lifted the corma to his mouth and took another long gulp. "Two nights ago, I noticed a jackal--sir, I swear it's not a wolf or a dog, although it looks a little like both." He stared into his drink, as if the brew provided an answer. "Anyway, I saw this animal--like a wild dog, actually--lurking around Balor's house at night. It came from the woods toward the south side of his house. You know, there's a wide lawn between the woods and his mansion. All I can tell you is what I observe when I stand behind a tree on the west side of Balor's house. After it got there, it just . . . disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

"In the bushes. I lose the damn jackal as soon as it reaches the mansion, and where it goes after that, I don't know." He pursed his lips. "I even searched through the bushes but found nothing. Strangest thing I ever saw."

“You saw no opening?”

Calum lifted his hands. “Not a damn thing.”

The maid placed a frothing mug beside Roric, and he set two copper coins on the table, his gaze never leaving the spy’s face. "Jackals--don't they travel in packs, like wolves?"

"This one's a loner. She--"

"She? How do you know it's a female?" Roric gave the spy a long look, his mind in confusion. In the name of the Goddess, what did a jackal have to do with Balor?

"For some reason, I just think it is. Don't know why. She doesn't make this trip through the woods every night, mind you. Maybe two or three times in a nineday." He scratched his head. "Don't know where the damn jackal goes."

"Have you seen any
humans
at the general's house--besides Balor?" Roric asked, discouraged that so far, they’d gained no useful evidence.

He shook his head. "No, sir, not a one."

A thoughtful silence followed. A sly one, the general. "Very well, Calum. Keep on as before. We're bound to come up with something." As soon as possible, he'd relate the man's findings to Princess Keriam. For now, he wouldn't tell the king of this new development, not until he had something more definite to go on.

While Calum drained his mug, Roric leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. Questions flooded his mind. Was the jackal Balor's familiar? Did Balor shapeshift? What if the general practiced wizardry? If he did . . . Roric's mind raged with hopeful possibilities. If he could prove that Balor practiced the evil craft, he would arrest him and turn him over to the druids. But he must have evidence. It all came back to proof.

* * *

Keriam's spirit lifted from the bed as she lay sound asleep. Night after night, she'd spied on Aradia, to discover what evil the sorceress was devising. Talmora, she'd be glad when the witch had departed the palace. So far, Keriam had gained no new information, most times finding Aradia in her room, sound asleep. And where the witch went other times, Keriam had no idea. Since the steward's death, his widow occupied a small room on the third floor, at the opposite end of the hall from the present steward's quarters.

Roric's recent tale of a jackal roaming the woods aroused her suspicions, her brain focused on one person: Aradia.

She drifted upward to the third floor and slipped into Aradia's room, keeping within the shadows. Her bed was empty, the sorceress nowhere in sight. Hurry! Keriam's spirit brain warned.
Find Aradia before she leaves the palace, if it's not already too late.

Like a feather caught in a downwind, she floated toward the first floor. Step by cautious step, she slipped through the thick walls and emerged outside after one of the guards walked past. Seeking concealment, she floated toward an earthberry bush beyond the spacious palace garden, in an area that warded the woods separating the palace grounds from Balor's mansion and the other military housing.

Despite its immense size, the palace had purposely been built with only three doors leading to the outside, one at the front and two at the back on either side of the kitchen, features that helped protect the palace from intruders. Keriam suspected that if Aradia were to embark on her own nightly sojourn, she would choose one of the back doors.

Before long, she heard the heavy oaken door screech open. Aradia stepped into the full moonlight as another guard approached along the flagstone walk.

"Mistress Morrigan, it's late to be outside, and dangerous, too. I've heard tales of a jackal roaming the palace grounds at night."

Aradia laughed softly, a sweet, melodic sound. "Sir, I appreciate your concern, but I've always found that animals are shy. They leave us alone if we do the same for them. As a matter of fact, I couldn't sleep. Thought I might take a walk in the woods. I promise you, I'll be careful."

"Very well, mistress. But if you need help, please be sure to call me."

"Thank you, sir. How kind you are. I'll remember your warning." After the guard walked past, Aradia headed for the thick woods, her step quick and purposeful. Several yards away, she stopped behind a spreading oak and looked in all directions.

Hiding within the earthberry bush, Keriam observed Aradia as if it were daylight, saw her pale skin, heard her every movement. The sorceress slipped her shoulder straps down, and her silk nightgown slithered from her body in a soft heap. She raised a large rock and shoved the gown beneath it, her naked body gleaming in the moonlight.

And then . . . and then . . . Keriam stared, her mouth open in shock. A light fog surrounded the witch. Fur patches sprouted on the sorceress's body, starting on her belly and spreading outward. Hands became paws, the face elongating into a snout. Bones crunched; limbs realigned as the witch slowly sank to all fours, her feet lengthening, long hooked claws scratching the ground. A tail grew, and her hips and shoulders narrowed, like a wolf's. Her body fully covered with fur, Aradia growled, low and sharp. A strong, musky odor fouled the night air.

Keriam stayed motionless, shocked beyond words, beyond action. Goddess, she prayed, what can I do now? How could she fight this creature? Would Radegunda's magic prove a match for this witch?

"Can't a body get any sleep around here?" A sweet, bell like voice, barely audible, rose from the earthberry bush.

Who was that? Keriam spun around, her spirit heart beating frantically. She looked around, her eyes catching a fairy tucked in the curve of a branch. The tiny creature yawned and stretched her arms. Her silvery wings shone in the moonlight, curly golden hair framing her face. Clad in a pink pastel gown, she resembled a tiny doll, not more than two inches long, her eyes, nose, and mouth perfectly-formed.

Keriam pressed her hand to her ethereal heart. "Ah, you startled me," she whispered in her spirit voice. "Sorry if I disturbed you."

The fairy waved a tiny hand. "It's all right, princess. I'll go back to sleep soon enough. But watch out for that Aradia. This isn't the first time she's shape--shape--"

"Shapeshifted?"

"Yes!"

"Goddess!" A jolt of alarm slammed through her spirit body.

"Indeed!" The fairy yawned again and sank back into the branch, shimmying into a comfortable position. "Now, if you'll excuse me . . ."

"Wait! Please tell me your name."

"Zinerva," she said in her sweet voice. "Now, I really must sleep. . . ."

"Goodnight, Zinerva." Tempted to reach over and touch the lovely creature, Keriam realized her own ghostly body precluded tangible contact.

Tucking her wings across her chest, the fairy closed her eyes, and in no time, a slight rise and fall of her chest indicated she slept deeply.

Keriam cast one last affectionate glance at the comely creature. She hoped to meet Zinerva again, during the day, perhaps, when distractions wouldn’t preempt a furtherance of their acquaintance. Vague possibilities claimed her mind. Was there some way she could use these lovely creatures--not only Zinerva, but other fairies that inhabited the trees--to help her? Well, something to think about . . .

Mindful of the passing time, Keriam followed the witch through the woods. When needing solitude, she'd often roamed these woods in daylight hours, thankful this wasn't the same vast forest as where the
torathors
dwelled. She enjoyed the experience during the day, but now her
arracht
shook with each step.

Keriam slid from tree to tree, always careful to keep the sorceress in sight, the thick tree roots and jutting rocks proving no impediment. Like monsters, gnarled tree trunks and twisted limbs loomed all around her. At the woods' edge, the jackal sped toward the general's house.

Keriam left the forest. She'd learned all she needed to know.

* * *

The jackal trotted along the ground, through the thick trees and undergrowth. She sniffed the rich earth, stopping occasionally to smell a rotting carcass or a strange plant. Now and then, the animal looked behind, a vague disquiet in her head, uncertain of the cause. She paused and snarled, a low, throaty growl.

Somewhere in the dim recesses of her memory lurked her lover's admonition that she must remain always on guard. Her lover . . . a flicker of joy made her heart beat faster, saliva dripping from her mouth. The heat consumed her, strong and gloriously wild.

She reached her destination and raced the remaining distance, across the wide, grassy space. Insects buzzed around her. A snake glided through the grass, its tongue flicking in and out, its head darting from side to side. So many diversions! But she raced on, her goal in sight.

A barbarous excitement raged within her, but fear accompanied her, too. What if an arrow felled her? Once more, she sniffed the air around her until convinced no danger threatened. At her lover's house now, she stopped beside a secret entrance that bordered the house, a wide opening set beneath a layer of leafy twigs, placed behind a thick bush. With her right forepaw, she moved aside a leafy branch, then wiggled and squirmed through the opening.

A few steps led her down to a narrow tunnel under the house. Aradia trotted along, her eyes keenly sharp in the darkness, the soft pads of her feet touching the cold stone floor. She paused to smell a dead rat, then ran on, impatient to see her lover. Snakes slid along the floor, and spiders dangled from webs on the ceiling, but she ignored every temptation. The jackal's brain issued a warning, something she must do, but what? Ah, yes, she must close up the tunnel opening, make it look as if no entrance existed.

Within minutes, she shifted to her human form. The fur gradually disappeared, the bones realigning again; the snout became a nose, and paws reformed into feet and hands. Human again, she returned to the hole, bending over double as she retraced her steps. There at the entrance she pushed a secret door into place, one that concealed any hint of the tunnel or the opening.

She headed back along the tunnel again and climbed the few steps to the bedchamber door. Without knocking, she emerged, naked and eager, into Midac Balor's elegant bedchamber.

He drew her into his arms. "I thought you'd never come."

* * *

Upon her return to the palace, Keriam's spirit body hid behind a bush while a guard made the rounds, a bored expression on his face. After he disappeared around the corner, she slipped out from her hiding place. Caught up in her anxieties, she failed to see or hear another man who left the stables, his high boots crunching on the gravel. Too late, she saw him staring at her: Roric Gamal!