Sons of Destiny Prequel Series 003 - The Shifter (36 page)

"What will a Magister be able to do?" Kenyen asked, boosting him into the main cabin. He moved to blow out the lamps hanging from hooks in the root cellar's ceiling as Traver replied.

"Well, for a start, he or she can authorize whatever you need to do, in tracking down the rest of these face-stealers. We don't have one in the valley," Traver told him, "but then we normally don't have major criminals running loose."

Solyn added her voice to the explanation. "Magisters are exceptionally strong mages pledged to support the just laws of the kingdom. They're only found in the big towns and cities, but they have all sorts of spells to determine if someone is telling the truth
and
the legal backing of the King to take care of matters if a severe bit of law-breaking is brought to their attention. They don't usually handle the petty crimes, like minor theft or being drunk in public. That's either for the city guards, the King's Guard who hunt down bandits and the like, or for the elders of a particular holding to handle—you, what's your name?"

Climbing up out of the now-dark cellar, Kenyen emerged in time to see the woman blinking in thought. "I... Parma. My name was Parma," she finally admitted. "Parma... Nol Vyth. But they called me Bitch. I... I haven't been called
my
name in... in..."

Solyn touched her arm, giving her silent sympathy.

"Hello, Parma. It's very nice to meet you, now that we're both free," Traver told her gently. He offered her his hand.

Parma stared at it. She didn't flinch from it, but it took her a long moment before she finally shifted the knife to her other hand and clasped his fingers. "N-Nice to meet you. Traver. It's...
very
nice to know you won't die. Like the... the others."

Her words made all of them think of the many men the curs of Family Mongrel had no doubt replaced over the years. For a moment, they remained silent in grim, somber respect. Finally, Traver breathed deeply.

"Will
you
fly with me to the capital, Parma?" he asked her. "Will you help me find a Magister, and will you be brave enough,
strong
enough, to tell them everything you know? Or almost everything?" he added, glancing at the bodies. "We don't have to mention how you helped free both of us just now. Not until they know just how necessary it was."

Kenyen looked at the young farmer with respect. Greater respect, since Traver's quick thinking and bravery had already proven themselves in this mess.

"I think that's a brilliant idea." The others glanced at him, so he explained. "One witness, however much he may
believe
his words are the truth, is one thing. Particularly with a tale as wild as rogue shapeshifters stealing the faces and the identities and the lives of innocent Corredai. I wouldn't have believed it so quickly myself, if I hadn't been confronted with all the evidence I've seen. But two witnesses,
both
of them swearing to the same story on a Truth Stone? That will be hard to dismiss."

"Yes, they'll
have
to listen to both of you, if both of you go," Solyn agreed quickly.

"I promise you will be safe with me," Traver added, still holding the older woman's hand.

She hesitated, then nodded, a single jerky movement of her head. "You... I will trust. You were... You
didn't
, down there.
You
," she added, looking at Kenyen, "I will not."

Again, he held up his hands. "I do understand, and I'm not offended. I'm just glad you're free."

"Speaking of which, we should get moving," Solyn urged them. She glanced briefly at the bodies, shuddered, and lifted her chin at the door. "The sooner we get out of here, the less scent we'll leave behind. If nothing else, when he doesn't show up in the morning, Tunric will come looking for Tarquin. Even if they technically aren't the original father and son, he'll have to come looking."

"He's... evil," Parma muttered, shivering. Her fingers gripped the hilt of her knife until they were visibly white. "Evil."

"All the more reason to make sure he gets taken down," Kenyen promised her. "These Mongrels, these
curs
, are like rabid animals. You don't let them live. You just kill them, quickly and cleanly, so their infection cannot spread.
You
did that, and I'll make sure this Magister knows it, if he or she questions you about it. But first, we have to get you to that Magister, and that means leaving this place."

Solyn moved first, heading out the door. Parma followed, with Traver behind her. Kenyen took a moment to check for signs of footprints. The only ones were the few smudges left by the older woman's bare toes. For all her kills had been bloody, they weren't overly messy, thanks to the cracks between the floorboards. There were no other signs that anyone else had been here tonight.

Tempted as he was to knock over the lamps and burn everything to the ground, to ruin even those few traces that might remain, Kenyen refrained. Eventually, the Magister would want to know what happened here. A part of him also wanted the other face-stealing Mongrels to know that something could hunt and kill
them
. That their days were numbered.

He did take one thing from the former owners. A scrap of toweling cloth from the kitchen area, one large enough to knot in a loop, since there were no baskets with large enough handles in the hut. Other than that, there was nothing he wanted from the place. Blowing out the lamps and leaving the banked coals on the hearth to dwindle and die on their own, he left the cottage, letting the door swing shut behind him.

Sister Moon had finally risen in the east, bathing the meadow in faint, silvery blue light. It was enough to see by even with normal eyesight, so Kenyen didn't bother shifting his eyes. Traver and the woman, Parma, had already squirmed their bodies between the oval curves and arching handles of the baskets. Each had an oilcloth bag slung over their heads, and Solyn was repeating the directions one last time for them.

Quickly stripping out of his borrowed clothes, Kenyen rubbed the last of the lanolin-rich ointment on his gloves into his soles before letting each foot touch the ground. Bundling up the spare clothes, he moved to Traver's side and stuffed them into the bag.

"I'll hold on to the rest of your things and treat them well," he promised under his breath, eyeing the younger man. "Keep the two of yourselves safe, until you can reclaim them."

Traver nodded. He hesitated, one hand holding the basket at his waist. "... Did you really marry her today?"

"I did. By
her
choice," Kenyen added.

"If she doesn't want you, you'll let her go?" he asked.

Kenyen nodded. "We don't hold our women prisoner on the Plains. Not the
true
Shifterai. When the truth comes out... it'll be a mess, trying to untangle all of this, but she knew who I was within the first few days of my taking your face. She knew when she married me."

Solyn chuckled at those words. Finished with her instructions and reassurances for the older woman, she retorted quietly, "I'm sorry to say that he may have perfected your face, but he is
not
you, Traver Ys Ten. I'm very much glad I didn't drink Sister's Tea with the brother of my heart, earlier today. My choice may have been hastily made... but I think it'll be a good one."

"Well, if he doesn't treat you right, you come tell me," Traver ordered her, before looking at Kenyen. "I don't know how, since I'm not a shifter and I'm not a warrior, but I
will
find a way to beat you worse than they beat me, if you do anything to her she doesn't like."

"I don't have a problem with that," Kenyen agreed. "Fly carefully, you two."

"You have no baskets," Parma said, looking at Solyn. She glanced briefly at Kenyen, but only briefly, considering he was now naked. "How... how will you leave?"

"He'll shift into a bird shape, and I'll find something else to enchant," Solyn told them. "Go. Fly. Make good use of the moonlight. We're somewhere west of the Nespah Valley, maybe slightly north by a couple hills. The capital is somewhere to the south of here—if nothing else, you'll see the lights of the people who live in whatever big towns lie in that direction."

"And if it's big enough to be lit at night, it's probably big enough to have a Magister on hand," Traver agreed. Glancing at Parma, he lifted his chin. "Ready?"

"Ready." Squatting, she gripped the handle with both hands—and oofed in surprise as the basket, still at a bit of an angle, started forward without warning. She bounced across the grass, feet quickly lifted out of the way. Skidding, she finally lifted up into the air. Not quite as awkwardly, Traver gripped the handle as well, though he lifted to counteract the forward thrust of the tilted wicker loop. It had been years since his last try at the strange method of travel, but he caught the hang of it quickly enough.

Solyn bit her lip, smothering a snicker. The unlikely pair lifted up higher, getting the hang of the swooping, unnatural form of flight. As soon as she was sure they could handle basket-flying, she turned to Kenyen. "Well, shall I go find a basket?"

"Cullerog didn't have anything suitable. Can you enchant this instead?" Kenyen offered, holding up the loop of cloth salvaged from the shepherd's hut.

Taking it, Solyn studied the linen, thinking. She finally nodded and slipped it over her head. Spreading the middle of the material so that it cupped her bottom, she crouched a little, tugged experimentally, and finally said, "... I
think
it'll work. It won't be quite as stable in flight, but I can adjust it with magic as I go." It didn't take her long to mutter the right spell words. "Are you ready?"

"Almost," he said, rubbing absently at his nose. It didn't actually itch, but he was lost in thought. The other two had flown past the barn as they left, and that had reminded Kenyen of the sheep cooped up inside for the night.

Moving over to the door, he unlatched it and swung it open. A couple of the animals inside baaed at the noise he made, but they didn't leave the shelter of the building. Satisfied they would be able to get out and graze in the morning, he returned to Solyn's side. At her curious look, he explained his actions.

"They don't deserve to die of thirst or starvation, in case it takes a couple of days for someone to come by," he said.

Solyn smiled at him. "You're a good man, Kenyen Sin Siin. Alright... ready to fly?"

Shifting shape, he shrunk himself into the familiar feathers of his owl form. She gripped the cloth strap in both hands—and squeaked, shooting forward awkwardly. With stumbling, running steps, she hauled up and swung herself into the sky. Hooting in amusement, Kenyen launched himself after her, more than ready to return to their temporary home.

Twelve

Sneaking back in again was as easy as sneaking out. The worst part came when she used a clever little spell to unlatch the shutters of her bedroom window. That made him sneeze. Kenyen hadn't known owls could sneeze, but he did.

Hopping in first, he fluttered to the bed and landed on it, reshaping his ears and cocking his head to listen for any sounds that might indicate their return had been noted. Hearing nothing but the faint sounds of a household deep in sleep, and the oofing of his wife as she slithered through the narrow opening on her belly, Kenyen reshaped himself into his natural form.

He was now short two changes of clothes, leaving him with just two to wear, and missing more than half his original travel funds. Crawling off the bed, he crouched by the chests containing his, or rather, Traver's things.
I'll have to see what sort of replacements I can afford. And when Manolo gets here—when, not if, I
know
he'll come soon—I'll see if he can loan me a few more coins. At least until we get back to Family Tiger and I can repay him...

The lamp on the bedside table lit with a single muttered word. That startled him into standing. A moment later, arms wrapped around him from behind, preventing him from completing his turn. Warm feminine fingers slid down his abdomen and into the nest of modesty feathers habit had made him retain around his groin.

Solyn pressed herself closer to the warmth of his back. Not that the summer night was cool, but the wind of their flight had chilled her a little. As had the things they had done. The things
she
had done, giving that other woman a chance to murder—
No, not murder,
she corrected herself firmly, caressing Kenyen through his feathers absently.
Justice. That poor woman, all those years she suffered. He's right. They're rabid dogs, and you just kill a rabid dog. Swift and clean. That's what we did... but I want to forget. And we did win, didn't we? At least, this fight?

"I think we should do something else now. Don't you?" she asked.

Kenyen recognized some of the way she trembled and the slight hitch in her voice.
Her first brush with real violence, is my guess. They deserved it, and it was more merciful an end than the curs had earned, but I don't think Solyn is that far off from being a true Healer herself. Healers mend; they don't end. Which means my wife needs a distraction... just as we all once did, in the warband.