Shadows and Light (45 page)

“You’ve had trouble?” Aiden asked, pleased that his voice remained calm while his heart pounded wildly.

“Black Coats — and those nighthunter creatures they created.”

Lyrra made an small, alarmed sound that had the guard captain slashing a look at her.

“How could they be here? How?” She sounded so frightened and turned so pale Aiden dropped Minstrel’s reins and reached out to steady her.

The captain’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve seen these creatures?”

Aiden shuddered. “Yes. And we’ve … seen what they do.” At that moment, he wasn’t clear in his own mind if he was talking about the Inquisitors or the nighthunters. Maybe it didn’t matter. In some ways, they were the same thing. “Was anyone harmed?”

The captain nodded. “Some people have died because of them.”

Reason enough to have guards meeting anyone coming into the village. At least these humans didn’t seem uncomfortable about dealing with the Fae. “I’m the Bard. My lady is the Muse. We’ve traveled a long way to talk to Lady Ashk.”

“Ashk, is it? Then we’ll take you part of the way to Bretonwood.” The captain turned his horse. “Sedge, you’re with me. You two stay at your post here.”

The captain and Sedge led the way through town. As soon as they passed Breton and were traveling through open country, Minstrel started mouthing the bit and snorting softly in a way that made Aiden’s stomach sink.

“Not now,” he whispered.

Minstrel wig-wagged his ears and continued snorting. His smooth trot suddenly became less smooth, and Aiden felt the jolt of each silent step all the way up his spine.

The captain looked back, frowning. “What’s wrong with the horse?”

Aiden unclenched his teeth enough to answer. “He’s disappointed that he didn’t get a song when we stopped at the village.”

Sedge turned in his saddle. “You’re the bard with the dancing horse! We heard about you.”

“Mother’s tits,” Aiden muttered as Lyrra started to giggle. “How could you have heard about that?”

The captain pointed skyward. Aiden spotted the two ravens flying toward Bretonwood.

“Roads curve, but news can still travel straight and fast,” the captain said, grinning.

“Mother’s tits,” Aiden muttered again. He could hope Lady Ashk hadn’t heard about it. That wasn’t likely, but he could still hope.

They rode for a few more minutes. Then the captain said, “There’s your Clan escort.” He rode ahead to meet the two Fae men who waited near a narrower road that branched off the main one. A falcon perched on the forearm of one of the men. As they approached, the man raised his arm, and the falcon flew away.

No doubt Lady Ashk would know of their arrival long before they reached the Clan house.

The village guards gave him and Lyrra a jaunty salute before riding back to Breton. The Fae escort was uncomfortably silent. They simply turned their horses and led the way up the road that branched off the main road.

Well, Aiden thought, the rest of the Fae had always said those in the west were lacking in some … civilities. Or, perhaps, if they knew what was said about them, they saw no reason to be civil to Fae who came in from outside the west.

Their destination was another Clan house in an Old Place. Unlike the other one they visited, this Clan house wasn’t in open country surrounded by woods. This one was in the woods, a part of the woods.

It made him uneasy, although he wasn’t sure why. A glance at Lyrra was sufficient to tell him she wasn’t comfortable either.

They’re Fae
, he told himself.
They may be different from the rest of us, but we’ve no reason to fear our own kind
.

He didn’t believe that, knew from experience it wasn’t true. He suddenly wanted open land, fierce sunlight. The old trees were far enough apart that it wasn’t dark around the Clan house. There was plenty of dappled sunlight and open ground under the trees, but he wasn’t sure anymore that he wanted to meet Ashk. The only reason he rode toward the group of people standing near a large wooden table was that Ashk was the only person who might be able to lead him to the Hunter.

As soon as they dismounted, the Fae men who had escorted them took their horses. A woman with long, ashbrown hair stepped away from the others. She studied him for a long moment. Studied Lyrra’s face even longer.

She had woodland eyes. But there was something in those eyes that he hadn’t seen in Breanna’s eyes, or Nuala’s, or any of the wiccanfae he’d met in the Mother’s Hills. Something … other. Something dangerous.

Then it was gone, making him wonder if it was a trick of the light or if fatigue was making him imagine things.

“Blessings of the day to you,” Aiden said, deliberately using a witch’s greeting.

She looked mildly surprised, but replied, “Blessings of the day.”

“I’m Aiden, the Bard.” He reached out, clasped Lyrra’s hand. “This is Lyrra, the Muse. We’ve come to speak to Lady Ashk.”

“Have you?” Her smile was slightly feral — and amused. “First you should eat and recover a little from your journey. Then we’ll talk.”

“You’re Ashk?” Aiden couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. He’d expected someone older, considering how wary everyone seemed to be when her name was mentioned.

Ashk just turned her head to look back at the group of Fae still gathered near the table. A couple of younger males immediately headed for the Clan house.

“Sit,” Ashk said, making a gesture toward the benches on either side of the large table.

He would have preferred to stand and stretch his back and legs, but he took a place beside Lyrra. Ashk sat on the opposite bench, across from them, her feet on the bench, her arms loosely clasped around her knees.

The youngsters returned with two wooden serving trays. Plates of sliced bread and cheese, a small bowl of fresh butter, and a plate for each of them that had a generous portion of some kind of white meat. Last, they set down two small cloths and a steaming bowl of water.

Since there was only a dull knife to spread the butter, Aiden decided the cloths and water were to be used to clean fingers that had gotten messy. He swirled his hands in the water, reluctant to pick up food with hands soiled from traveling. He dried his hands on one of the cloths, then buttered a piece of bread for Lyrra while she washed her hands.

Ashk tipped her head. “Do you like chicken? Most of the Fae here find it too bland, but I’ve acquired a taste for it, and the cooks indulge me on occasion.”

“Oh, we’ve had chicken before,” Lyrra said. “But not often since they’re mostly kept for the eggs.”

“There’s only so many eggs that can be used,” Ashk said blandly. “And some of those eggs that are laid become little chickens that grow up to be big chickens that lay more eggs. Or they become cocks eager to announce the dawn. And, really, how many cocks does a woman need first thing in the morning?”

Aiden choked on the mouthful of ale he’d just tried to swallow. Lyrra’s mouth dropped open before she burst into laughter. Aiden glanced at the men standing near the table. The younger ones were blushing. The older ones just returned his glance and shrugged.

No help there.

“You have a different opinion about cocks in the morning?” Ashk asked.

“Oh, Aiden doesn’t — I mean, he — This looks delicious.” Lyrra turned her attention to her meal.

Aiden was tempted to give his lover and wife a hard kick under the table, but it wouldn’t have done him any good, so he applied himself to his meal.

When they’d eaten their fill and the plates were taken away, Ashk said, “What brings you to Bretonwood?”

“We came to talk to you,” Aiden replied.

“Why?”

“We’re hoping you can tell us how to find the Hunter.”

“Why?”

Irritated by that bland voice that didn’t match the
something
almost hidden in her eyes, Aiden got up, walked a few paces to stretch his legs. He turned back to look at her. She just watched him, her expression bland. Too bland.

“Since you know the greeting used by witches, it seems reasonable to assume you’ve known a witch at some time,” Aiden said carefully.

“I know, and have known, several witches,” Ashk replied.

“They aren’t servants for the Fae to order about.”

“Whoever said they were?” Ashk’s expression was still bland, but her voice had an edge to it.

Had they finally found an ally, someone who wouldn’t dismiss what he’d been trying to tell the Fae for the past year? The edge in her voice lifted his spirits while warning him that he needed to be very careful to explain this in just the right way.

He took a step toward Ashk, held out his hands in appeal, and put everything he had into his words. “Witches are the Mother’s Daughters. They are the House of Gaian.”

No change in her face. No change in her eyes. Nothing.

“They’re being killed, brutally, by men called
Inquisitors. And when they die, the shining roads that lead to Tir Alainn die with them, trapping the Fae whose territories were connected to those roads. Maybe destroying those Clans.”

“So this is about the Clans.”

His temper flared. His hands curled into fists. “This is about the witches. They’re
dying
. Can’t you understand that? They’re gentle people who have a powerful kind of magic, but they’re not fighters. The Fae have to come down from Tir Alainn and protect the witches and the Old Places. Mother’s mercy!
These women are the House of Gaian
. They should be protected for that alone. We’ve seen what the Inquisitors do to them. We’ve buried the bodies — and we’ve listened to the ghosts scream when the nighthunters found them. This isn’t about the Fae. This is about the Mother’s Daughters. Are the Fae just going to sit back and watch until the last one is slaughtered? If we do, then we deserve whatever happens to us.”

Ashk tipped her head to one side. “What is it you want from the Hunter?”

He wanted to grab her, shake her, do
anything
to erase that bland expression. “The Lightbringer and the Lady of the Moon will do nothing to help. They’ve decided that the witches have a duty to remain in the Old Places to provide the magic that keeps the shining roads open, and most of the Fae agree with them because of who Lucian and Dianna are and because they don’t have to do anything more than they’ve ever done — which is nothing. The Hunter is the only one strong enough to command enough Fae to give the witches some protection from the Inquisitors. Without his help, the slaughter will continue.”

He felt movement behind him, saw Lyrra’s startled expression. He turned and saw the dark horse — and the woman riding it.

“Morag,” he said softly. She’d seen what the Inquisitors did. She was the one who had told
him
before
he’d actually seen it for himself. She’d help him convince Ashk. She had to.

She just stared at him for a moment before the dark horse pivoted and raced away.

Confused and, yes, hurt by her reaction to seeing him, he turned back to Ashk.

Her expression was no longer bland, and her woodland eyes held something too dangerous to be called simply feral. His throat tightened until it was hard to breathe. He didn’t know what was wrong with Morag, but he and Lyrra needed to get away from this place
now
.

“We thank you for the meal and your time, Lady Ashk,” he said formally. “If you would ask someone to bring our horses, we’ll be on our way.”

“And go where?”

“That is not your concern.”

“Bard,” Ashk said gently, “do you really think you’ll get out of the woods?”

He almost made a stinging reply about the road being easy enough to follow. Then he looked into those eyes and knew what she was telling him: If he and Lyrra tried to leave, she would kill them — or have them killed. They couldn’t run fast enough or far enough to get out of the Old Place or away from the Fae Ashk controlled.

She would kill them to prevent them from leaving. He just didn’t know why.

“What about the Hunter?” he asked hoarsely.

“The Summer Solstice is a few days away. You’ll have your answer about the Hunter after the Solstice.” She raised her voice slightly. “Show our guests to a room they can use during their visit with our Clan. I’m sure they’re tired after their long journey.”

Lyrra got up slowly, moved toward him with fear-stiffened legs. Her hands clamped on his left arm, as if that was the only thing that would keep her standing.

Aiden placed his other hand over hers. They were ice cold.

Several of the men who had remained near the table now came around behind them, blocking any chance to run, if either of them had been so foolish as to try. In front of them Ashk still sat quietly, watching them.

One of the men stepped up beside him. “If you’ll follow me.”

What choice did they have? Saying nothing, he and Lyrra followed the man to the Clan house.

Ashk waited until she was sure Aiden and Lyrra were in the Clan house before lowering her forehead to rest on her knees.

Mother’s mercy. No wonder Aiden had ascended to become the Bard. When his passion rode behind his words, the result could hum in a person’s bones until they vibrated to his tune. How had the Fae beyond the west managed to ignore him? Some had heard him and acted. She was sure of that. But not enough. His words had been hamstrung by the Lightbringer and the Lady of the Moon, and from what she knew about the rest of the Fae, she knew he was right — he was telling them a passionate but unpalatable truth while Lucian and Dianna were telling them what they wanted to hear.

The House of Gaian meant something to him. She’d heard the plea under the passion for her to acknowledge that the witches were the Mother’s Daughters. How could she deny what she knew to be true?

She would have helped him, had been about to tell him exactly that — until Morag rode up, saw him, and ran.

Morag was from a midland Clan, but she’d been in the eastern part of Sylvalan. She’d been at Brightwood and had helped Ari and Neall escape. She knew Aiden. So what was it about the Bard that would make the
Gatherer
run?

She didn’t know, and she didn’t like it. She just hoped Aiden was as intelligent as he was eloquent. She’d meant the threat. If he and Lyrra tried to leave, she would kill them.