Sons of Destiny Prequel Series 003 - The Shifter (12 page)

Fourteen years ago, when Solyn was just eight, Reina Lai Fa had been experimenting with variations on bluesteel, the specially crafted, blue-tinted metal which could permanently scar anyone, even a shapeshifter. Reina had discovered something astonishing. Something which turned out to be deadly.

Bluesteel had been created by accident; after making a huge cauldron of tea, an ancestor of the Nespah holdings had discovered the tea leaves had moldered, rendering the brew undrinkable. The stories varied. Some said it was a drought year, meaning they didn't dare waste the precious liquid; others said it was just the blacksmith's wife being disgusted with either her brew or her husband. Whatever the version, the moldered tea steepings had ended up in the smithy, being used repeatedly to quench the blacksmith's blades during their crafting.

The aquamarine-blue cast to the silvery metal had first been considered a novelty, then a curiosity when their scar-forming, shapeshift-quelling qualities were uncovered. After the Shattering of Aiar, they became a vital trade point with the shapeshifters to the north, helping turn the savage barbarians into civilized souls.

Solyn's mother, a curious, adventurous sort who dabbled in alchemy as well as Healing remedies, had decided to see what other qualities could be imparted to metal, depending on what was used to quench the heated material. Many plants had magic-enhancing effects, and some had actual magical qualities of their own. Her mother wanted to know if any new properties could be infused, despite the high temperatures involved, like bluesteel could.

So, with Ysander's help, she had experimented. Most of their efforts did nothing to change the metal. Only a jest on her husband's part had revealed a new possibility. Instead of dipping the heated blade in yet another herbal infusion, he had jokingly sliced a bit of cheese with one of his small, red-hot blades... imparting an unnatural, grass-green hue to the half-worked steel. The special molds in greenvein cheese altered the blade.

Solyn remembered watching her mother very carefully experimenting on herself, expecting the small cuts to scar as they healed. Instead, they had healed faster than expected. A careful experiment on her husband, cutting across one of the many small scars that had nicked his hands over the years, caused the sliced section of scar to heal seamlessly. Their astonishment had filled the young Solyn with wonder: Reina Lai Fa and Ysander Mil Ben had created the perfect tool for Healers everywhere, to help victims of burns and cuts, gouges and so forth to renew their bodies whole.

Excited by the prospects, Reina had loaned the finished greensteel blade to a fellow Healer two valleys over, a woman who also liked to experiment with alchemical properties. Reina had then turned back to working on crafting more of the odd, sharp cheese so that more of the helpful blades could be made. Somehow, word got out... and bad men had come, seeking the blade. No one knew quite what had happened, other than how the Healer and her family looked like they had been mauled to death by wild animals... and that the blade had been badly etched by acid.

The King's men had come to investigate, but they couldn't follow the tracks of the beasts, and no culprits had been found. Those few who knew the importance of that acid-ruined blade, frightened for Reina's and Ysander's sakes, had immediately agreed to keep their mouths shut on the source of the miraculous metal. At first, nothing seemed to come of the matter, but then the owner of the local mines, Tunric Tel Vem, went away on a long trading trip. He came back changed. Harder, crueler, more arrogant... and rather interested in the Healers and the blacksmiths of the region.

Other men changed as well. After Solyn's best friend stumbled across the strange bonfire, he had confided to her how eerie and surreal the whole thing had been. When she heard about that, Solyn had realized the mauling-by-animals and the face-melting men had the same source: evil shapeshifters.

The Shifterai did come south into the mountains, looking for trade and other forms of work, though they never quite came this far into the kingdom. Nespah wasn't on a major trade route, nor on a road that led to the capital. With the secret of bluesteel smithing long since passed into their hands, all the Shifterai needed from the Corredai tea farmers were properly moldered leaves, which were created carefully, deliberately, when the tea was improperly stored. In fact, the cave where that mold grew had been specially set aside specifically for making and moldering bluesteel tea leaves, at the top of the valley. But it was the Corredai who usually took that tea down to the Plains, and not the Shifterai who came in search of it.

Another cave held the source of the mold for making greenvein cheese. It was uncomfortably close to one of Tunric Tel Vem's mines, upriver at the wooded base of the valley, but the entire family had been using that cave for cheese-ripening for generations. Greenvein was sharp, tangy, and a touch on the pungent side; few people enjoyed eating it directly. But it preserved well, sliced neatly, and a little bit grated into a dish went a long way in flavoring various foods. She actually liked it a lot, herself.

Traver finished his bartering, measured out the silver scepterai and the copper thronai coins, and shook hands with the trader. The trader then helped him put his paper-wrapped purchases into the net bag slung over his good shoulder. Solyn realized belatedly that Traver had paid quite a bit less than she would have for an equal amount of the costly, imported spices.
When did he learn to barter so well? Okay, not that I know how well Traver barters for anything
other
than sweets. Every honey-nut-bun baker and sugar-curl crafter in the valley knows they can charge him an extra thronai or two for those sorts of treats, but I can't remember the last time I watched him buying spices and herbs.

He turned to her with a smile that revealed his delight in his bargain. Solyn found herself smiling right back.
Odd, but... but maybe being hit on the head and forgetting a few things finally helped him to finish growing up?
That could be it. Traver had always struck her as a bit like a gangly lamb, or a spindly-legged colt, not quite fully grown. Not quite comfortable with his adult body and the strengths which came with maturity.
Until now, that is.

"I still don't see what
you
think you see in that idiot."

Oh, great
, Solyn thought, shutting her eyes for a moment.
Tarquin Tun Nev. What a beautiful day this is...
Opening them again, she glanced at the idiot. Tall and handsome with his sun-browned skin and dark brown curls, he made many a young maiden's heart skip a beat whenever he smiled their way. Except for hers.

For one, he was the son of Tunric Tel Vem, which meant anything she said to him would no doubt make its way back to a known shifter. For another, he, too, had changed several years ago, after his mother had divorced his personality-altered father and taken herself and her daughters to distant relatives. And for the third reason, Traver was certain he'd seen Tarquin alongside his father at that bonfire several years back. That was more than enough for her to distrust him.

Still, it paid to be polite. "Hello, Tarquin."

"Honestly, what do you see in him?" Tarquin dismissed, ignoring the puzzled frown Traver was giving the two of them. Cupping his hand around her arm, Tarquin stepped close enough that Solyn tried to sidle away. Unfortunately, that put her up against the cloth seller's wagon, leaving her no room to retreat. The wagon was narrow, well suited to be pulled along the winding paths that lined most of the mountains, but he had her trapped against the wheel.

"I see someone more polite than you. Stop pushing me into the wagon, Tarquin," she ordered, elbowing him. "It's not polite!"

He pressed closer, making her scowl. "I think you need a
real
man, someone who can take
charge
of you." He flashed her a grin. "Certainly, if you marry
that
pile of goat droppings, you'll eventually come looking for one. You need passion in your life, Solyn. And I—
yeeowch
!"

Tarquin jumped back, wincing and rubbing at his inner arm. Traver pulled back his hand, though he raised it in warning, thumb and forefinger ready to pinch the other young man's bicep again. "She has made her choice. Respect it."

"Some choice," Tarquin scoffed. He rubbed his arm one more time, giving Traver a wary look, then lifted his chin at Solyn. "She'll come to realize who the better man is. When given the choice of being mauled by your cow herder's hands or enjoying
my
touch... she'll come to
me
for her pleasures."

Embarrassed by such frank, arrogant, idiotic words, Solyn glanced around. More than one holding had sent family members to chat with the spice traders, and that meant more than one pair of eyes was watching this little interaction. More than one pair of ears, and more than one lifted set of brows.

"She'll have nothing to complain about in
my
arms," Traver stated flatly, once again displaying that odd new confidence.

Tarquin smirked. "That's because she doesn't know any different. Still, her 'choice' isn't irrevocable, is it? Let me help you make up your mind, my sweet."

Before she knew what he was up to, Tarquin had her face cupped in his hands and his mouth pressed to hers. His tongue probed at her lips, making her flinch back at the unexpected, unwelcome invasion. Disgusted by the attack, she groped for her magic, ready to fling him back with blunt power. Even as she did so, two things happened: Traver sneezed and flung Tarquin back himself.

Staggering, Tarquin regained his balance and rubbed at his shoulder. She hoped he was bruised by the rough handling. Traver glared at him, then turned to Solyn. He lifted his own hand to her cheek, but his touch was gentle, and his gaze the only thing that brushed her lips. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, then scrubbed at her mouth with the back of her wrist. "I'll be fine. I'd have hit him myself, if you hadn't pushed him away."

Nodding back, he slipped his arm around her waist, sheltering her at his side. Traver faced Tarquin. "As I said, she's made her choice. Respect it."

Solyn slipped her arm around his hips as well. It was her fault Traver was now her betrothed, but he was man enough to defend her choice, however impulsive and inadvertent.
And really, who else should I wed but a great friend? There might not be raging passion between us, but we'll still have something to talk about in old age.

Tarquin sneered. "Another man kisses your woman, and that's the best you can do?"

"That's because you're not worth fighting," Traver stated dismissively, sounding far, far more confident than Solyn had ever heard him speak before.

A strangely humorous look curled up the corner of Tarquin's mouth. "... You
can't
kiss her, can you?"

Solyn felt Traver stiffen at her side. The corner of his own mouth curled up, but it wasn't very amused-looking. Turning to her, he once again brushed her cheek with his fingers, then lowered his head. His lips dusted over hers, then alighted with gentle pressure, showing that he could indeed kiss her.

Those lips nibbled for a moment, then the tip of his tongue swept lightly over hers. Not to probe invasively, just to moisten. It tickled... and it intensified everything. The warmth of his arm holding her close, the nibble of his lips as they teased and tasted, the mingling scents of spices and male sweat. He didn't even smell the same anymore; before, there was always a lingering hint of farm animals and sourness to his scent. Now, Traver smelled more manly, with hints of musk and something else. She supposed it might've been the lack of barn-cleaning duties since his last bath, and the seasonings he had bought.

His mouth coaxed hers open, nipping here, licking there. Shivering under his slow assault, a corner of Solyn's mind wondered who her best friend had been kissing behind her back, to know how to do it this well. The rest of her mind... well, it melted, and took a good portion of her body along with it.

Sagging into him, she tightened her own grip on his waist, her other hand coming up to clutch at his shoulder. He cupped her closer, switching his right hand from her face to the back of her head, fingers twining in her curls. A soft, hungry sound escaped him, and her own throat released a sigh that hummed in tune with the rest of her nerves. The astonished, unmelted corner of her mind wondered,
Cora, Goddess of Hills and High Places... where in the world did all this
pleasure
come from?

"That's enough, you two!" Aunt Hylin's voice dashed over them like a bucket of cold water. "No twining in public!"

Shuddering in shock, flushed with embarrassment, Solyn pulled back. Traver did as well, though he kept his left hand at the small of her back while turning to face her aunt. With his own cheeks distinctly red, he searched the crowd around the spice traders' caravan, no doubt looking for Tarquin.

He wasn't in sight; at some point during that slow but rather intense kiss, the other young man had slunk off. Clearing his throat, Traver nudged Solyn off to the side, away from the caravan. Aunty Hylin chuckled, waggled her finger with a mock-stern look, and turned back to her own spice hagglings, leaving them alone.

More or less alone, not counting the watchful eyes of a dozen men, women, and youths all visiting with the trading caravan. Frustrated with their lack of privacy, Solyn resolved to drag Traver down to the cheese caves. The only thing she could be grateful for was that the other holders waited until they were almost out of earshot before gossiping about the fact that Traver Ys Ten had kissed Solyn Ys Rei, and "... practically twined with her on the spot!"