Watersmeet (27 page)

Before they left the orchard, Abisina ran back to Vigar’s grave and retrieved the necklace, warm and shining in the sun. As she slipped the chain back over her head, she heard Vigar’s voice on the breeze:
When the time comes, you will know what to do.

Abisina set out for Watersmeet with a lighter heart, wanting to think only of her father striding beside her and to hold on to this short time together. Rueshlan needed to return as soon as possible to oversee the preparations for the coming battle, but they stole time in the summer sun over long meals and built their evening fire before the sun had set. During the night, they slept under a carpet of stars.

Abisina tried not to think about their arrival in Watersmeet. Everyone would know why she had run. At the Council meeting, Alden had said that the Vranians were “hardly worth saving”; would they all see her now as Vranian? Would Alden and Glynholly and—Findlay?

As they drew closer, her anxiety increased, until Rueshlan stopped in the middle of the path. “What is it, Abisina? You’ve been picking up the pace for the last league. You’re practically running.”

“I—I think I’m ready.”

“Ready?”

“Ready to—to see you as—to see your other shape.” Her palms were sweaty and her voice quavered, but her jaw was set.

“You don’t have to do this, Abisina,” Rueshlan said after a pause.

“Yes, I do.” She managed a tight smile. “Before we return.”

Rueshlan took a step back but never looked away. She knew something was happening, sensed movement, but she kept staring intently into his eyes, saying over and over in her head,
This is my father. He would never hurt me.

His face relaxed, though his eyes were nervous. “Well?”

Abisina braced herself for a wave of fear and revulsion that never came. Rueshlan’s transformation changed nothing about his torso, but his hips now disappeared into the muscular legs of a horse, as black as the hair on his head. Abisina looked at him—taking in his body, his flanks, his hooves, his tail. The light shone on his skin and rippling muscles. He took a few prancing steps backward on his impossibly slender ankles. His tail swished from side to side.

“Well?” Rueshlan said again, and Abisina saw that he was waiting anxiously for her response. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said quickly and realized she was. She smiled up at him as the relief spread across his face.

They walked together for a league—a centaur and a human beside him.

Abisina broke the long silence. “Do you feel
different
when you’re one way or the other? I mean,” she said, not sure if she might offend him, “I feel my toe sometimes, though it’s not there. I was wondering, do you feel like a centaur even when you’re not?”

“I never thought about it in those terms,” Rueshlan said. “It’s not that I ‘feel like a centaur,’ but there are certain situations when I am more myself as a centaur, while in other situations I am more myself as a man. In fact, that was how I discovered that I had the power to shape-shift. I was a little older than you are now—”

Abisina faced her father. “You
discovered
that you were a shape-shifter?”

“Yes, I was born just human, or so I thought. But when I reached sixteen or seventeen winters, as I grew into manhood—”

“Stop!” Abisina felt as if the air were being forced from her chest. “Don’t say any more. I’m not ready for this.”

“Not ready for what?”

“To think that this could happen to me.” She watched understanding dawn on his face.

“Just because you’re my daughter—”

“Your parents, were they shape-shifters?”

“I didn’t know my parents,” Rueshlan said softly.

Abisina started walking in agitation.
What if I
—she didn’t want to finish the thought. She was just getting used to her father! But against her will, she searched herself, testing her legs, her hips, her feet—
Are there any signs?

“Abisina,” Rueshlan said behind her. “If you
are
a shape-shifter, you’ll know—you’ll know when it happens.”

She slowed down, self-conscious. “How?”

“It was so long ago, I can hardly remember. I had been wandering in a forest for days—maybe weeks. I longed for sun, open air, and wind. And then I came to the end. The trees didn’t even thin; they simply stopped and this green, undulating meadow began, shining in the sun. It was like another world. And I leapt into it—from the darkness of the forest into the light and air of the meadow. I was running and leaping and—I didn’t even know it had happened. I just
was
a centaur, galloping toward the horizon.

“That’s how it was for a while,” Rueshlan continued, and Abisina could sense he was dusting off old memories. “I couldn’t control it. I would just
be
a man, or just
be
a centaur. Sometimes I went to sleep as one and woke as the other, as if I needed the other shape in my dreams.”

“Did it scare you?”

“I wanted to control it, I remember that. I never knew what was going to happen next. But I wasn’t scared, because it always felt right—the shape fit the moment. And I learned I
could
control it. If I was a centaur and for some reason I wanted to be a man, I would imagine myself doing something man-like. The easiest was sitting. Centaurs don’t sit, so if I imagined sitting, I’d be a man.” Rueshlan chuckled. “I had forgotten all about that. I’m not even conscious of wanting to change now.”

They walked on, and Abisina’s fears receded. But as she curled up in her cloak by the fire that night, she couldn’t help but think,
Please, don’t let me be a shape-shifter!

When they arrived at Watersmeet the next evening, Abisina could barely keep her feet moving across the root bridge.
I hope no one is around
, she thought.
Let them all be at the Council House or supper or something!

But as she followed Rueshlan, now a centaur, into his ward, a crowd met them: somber dwarves, fauns, and humans talking in hushed tones. In the center stood Kyron, flanked on either side by more centaurs, and it was on him that Abisina focused.

Someone called, “Rueshlan! Abisina!” Was it Frayda? Abisina didn’t turn to the voice. She knew what she had to do.

Without giving her fear time to catch up, she walked past Rueshlan. The distance seemed to grow longer with each step. The crowd stepped back, clearing a path, but she saw only Kyron—his thick roan legs, his taut torso, his red beard on his chest.

When she finally reached him, she couldn’t speak, but she met his blue eyes. She was surprised to find that he looked—nervous.

“Rueshlan’s daughter! I—I—”

Abisina fought the urge to shrink back. “Kyron,” she managed and summoning all her strength, she held out her hand. She felt the stares around her as Kyron grasped her forearm in the centaur greeting. The strength of his grip sent a tremor through her, but she refused to look away; instead she returned his firm grasp.

“Welcome, Abisina.” There was relief in his voice.

“I—I owe you an apology,” she stammered into the deafening silence.

“There is no need to apologize.” Kyron smiled.

Rueshlan put one hand on Kyron’s shoulder and another on Abisina’s. He looked from one to the other, beaming. The crowd let out its breath.

“They must eat!” A scratchy voice broke the still- ness, followed by a voice that Abisina immediately recognized.

“They’ve just gotten here,” Haret growled. “Give Rueshlan a moment to consult with his advisors!”

Glynholly, who Abisina now realized was standing next to her, stepped aside to let into the circle a dwarf with long red hair and a wooden spoon clutched in her hand. Haret was right behind her.

Abisina was glad for the distraction. Her cheeks still felt hot, but her heart was beginning to slow down.
I did it
, she told herself.
Not very gracefully, perhaps, but I faced Kyron. Now for the rest.
She looked at the folk around her: Glynholly, Alden, Frayda, Neiall, and others she recognized from parties, celebrations, and Gatherings. Did they see her as the girl who ran from her own father? Someone with the blood of Vranille in her veins? She saw frank smiles and open faces. There would be some—the centaurs particularly—for whom it would take more time. She could face that, too. For now, there were no reprimands, no reproaches. Just acceptance.

“Abisina?” She looked up to find her father smiling at her. “We’ve been invited to have supper with Breide here. She has some fine wild rabbit stew waiting for us—”

“And anyone else who needs it!” the redheaded dwarf cried, looking triumphantly at Haret.

Breide’s tone and accent were so like Hoysta’s, Abisina couldn’t help but grin.

They set off through the Sylvyads, Breide in the lead. Many more joined their group to cry out greetings to Rueshlan and Abisina. Before they reached Breide’s ward and her steaming stewpot, Haret fell into step next to Abisina. “I don’t know why he’s humoring her,” he grumbled. “Alden told her to leave Rueshlan alone, but she insisted.”

“You like her!” Abisina pronounced, looking at her friend.

“What?” Haret exploded, his eyebrows lowering like a thundercloud. “Don’t be ridiculous, human! She’s Alden’s daughter!” But now his cheeks were red.

“You do!”

“If you say one more word,” Haret warned, but Abisina didn’t need to—one sidelong look was enough to send Haret off into another bluster of “Ridiculous humans!” and “The idea!”

Breide had just handed Abisina a bowl of delicious-smelling stew when Meelah came hurtling out of nowhere, throwing her arms around Abisina and almost knocking her over.

“We were so scared!” she cried. “We thought you’d been taken by the überwolves!”

Abisina tried to hug Meelah back, balancing her brimming bowl. Findlay came up behind his sister. “She was scared,” he agreed, and then added, “So was I.”

Abisina smiled at him before burying her face in Meelah’s embrace.

For a moment, sitting there cross-legged on the ground between Findlay and Meelah, eating wild rabbit stew, listening to the hum of conversation from those crowding Breide’s ward, Abisina felt again that she was
home
.

But then Glynholly’s voice reached her. The faun was speaking to Rueshlan, and her words brought Abisina back to reality.

“—another hundred swords, and now we’re waiting for word from the fairies—their eagles will have news about the movements of Charach’s army.”

Watersmeet was going to war.

During the next two weeks, Rueshlan and the Council talked strategy; the centaurs combed the forest to recruit wild donkeys and stags to carry gear; the forges glowed far into the night as dwarf blacksmiths made and repaired swords and axes; teams gathered to string bows and fletch arrows; fairies arrived and left with news gathered by their eagles; and everyone honed their peacetime fighting skills to the sharpness needed for war.

Abisina joined in the preparation, assigned to work with Frayda’s archers after Haret told about her saving him from the minotaur in Vigar’s garden—much to her embarrassment and her father’s delight. Abisina was amazed at the feeling of camaraderie she found working with a host of archers: the teamwork, the strategy that depended on all doing their part. She made several friends—another revelation—particularly with a dark-skinned, curly-haired girl named Elodie who stood near her in the ranks. Elodie’s ready laugh and immediate acceptance put Abisina at her ease and their friendship grew quickly.

She also discovered just how good her skills were. Frayda quickly recognized Abisina’s superior marksmanship and ability to weigh all the elements that might affect an arrow’s flight. Frayda asked her to work with some of the younger archers, and Abisina loved sharing the gift that had given her such comfort during those lonely days in Vranille. One afternoon, after the archery drills were over for the day, Glynholly took her to the row of rings used in the archery contest. Abisina managed to shoot through all but one. When the faun brought Abisina back for dinner, she told Rueshlan how his daughter had done. “I’ll warn Frayda!” the faun said in mock dismay. “This young woman will soon be challenging both of us for title of best archer in Watersmeet!” Then Glynholly turned serious. “She’ll be a great help in the coming battle.”

But that night, Abisina decided that she could not join the battle. She had tossed in bed for what felt like hours, before finally getting up. Voices came from one of the sitting rooms, and she crept toward them, peeking through the half-closed door. A single candle sat on the mantel, lighting Rueshlan as he stood facing the cold fireplace. Frayda sat on a chair nearby staring at his back.

“Remember Vigar!” Rueshlan’s voice was laced with agitation.

“Of course,” Frayda replied. “But you don’t have to do it her way.”

“What if I’m asked to make the same choice?” He turned to Frayda. The worry on his face made Abisina bite her lip.

“There are no ‘same choices,’ Rueshlan. You are not Vigar.”

“But I am
Keeper
.” He started pacing. “Vigar’s life bought us years of peace. She was willing to die for that—and I was, too—before Abisina came. I would have traded my life easily if it meant Watersmeet would endure for even another generation. I cannot do that now. But Charach must be stopped. For Abisina, as much as for Watersmeet. . . . There is no other way.”