The Betrayal (14 page)

Shalár smiled. Only she among her folk ever rode one of the huge cats. Only she dared to divide her attention between hunting and controlling such a dangerous creature. She had caught this one but three days earlier on a foray toward the Ebons.

She looked back at Dareth, put a hand at the back of his neck, and drew him to her for a swift, hard kiss. Releasing him, she turned to descend to the city.

Two guards fell into step behind her, along with Galir, who carried a basket of headbands for the
hunters. She did not look back at Dareth, though she felt his khi follow her.

The crowds parted before her. A child skipped out toward her and was swiftly caught back by its father, who wore the badge of the Crafters' Guild. His eyes met Shalár's in one fearful glance before he bent to whisper to the child.

The hunters had gathered along the shoreline, some hundred and fifty all told. Some were experienced, some came from the ranks of her guard. Others had come to Nightsand for the first time, having left their rural homes for the hope of a kobalen or two to bring back to their families. They all fell back before Shalár, who paused to look over their ranks, a sea of silver-haired hunters with sharp, eager faces. Hungry faces.

Three captains were to command them: Ciris, Yaras, and Welir. Their brows were bound in Darkshore colors of ælven make, brilliant and distinct.

Shalár looked closely at Yaras's face and saw no remaining sign of sun-wrought damage from his ill-fated journey across the Ebons. Yaras was among the best of her hunters; that was the reason she had chosen him as a watcher. He had gained further honor by fathering a child, conceived on a previous grand hunt.

She summoned Galir with a gesture. The youth stepped forward with his basket. The headbands it held were black tipped with red at each end, made in Nightsand, the colors not as vivid as she could wish, but they would serve. She took a handful and began walking along the ranks of the hunters, giving each a headband, nodding or saying a word to those she recognized. It would have been quicker to have others pass out the tokens, but Shalár wanted to look each of her hunters in the eye. They were to become a pack
this night, and must bond together as a pack before they made their first catch.

When the last headband was given out, she returned to where the captains stood. “Divide them into three companies and follow me.”

She strode along the shore to where the catamount's keepers wrestled to hold it still. The great pale cat fumed and snorted, eyes furious above the muzzle. Under starlight its fur was a warm amber-white, darker at the ears and tail.

The catamount spied her and stopped its fretting. Shalár felt dull recognition in its khi, mixed with anger and fear. It pinned back its ears and growled low in its throat.

She focused her khi, then sent it forth and took the creature's mind, coiling her will around its fury, making it her own. She went so far as to look through the cat's eyes for a moment, seeing many reedy, two-legged creatures that should have been easy to kill but were not, herself a menacing figure with pale hair.

She drew back from the catamount's perception, keeping an iron hold on its khi. Without hesitation she reached out and unstrapped the muzzle, letting it fall to the ground. The keepers' ropes attached to it fell slack. Someone behind her gasped.

The cat made a strangled, gargling sound. Shalár did not permit it to move, though its eyes flashed with rage. She climbed upon its back, taking hold of the loose skin at its shoulders, the fur warm and coarse against her fingers.

Only when she was comfortably seated did she allow the beast to let out the roar it so wanted to voice. The sound began as a growl and rose to a high scream, echoing along the cliffs of Nightsand Bay.

She smiled. If kobalen were skulking across the bay, that sound had alerted them to what was coming. She
was untroubled by this. Kobalen lived short lives and were simpleminded. Even if any lived among them now who were old enough to remember the last grand hunt and warn their comrades of what the cat's cry meant, they could not escape.

Kobalen were swift but not as swift as Shalár's people, and they saw poorly in darkness. They were no match for a hungry pack.

Shalár made the catamount pace southward along the shore, aware of the tension in its limbs, the rage that seethed within it. Catamounts were large—one beast might weigh as much as five Darkshores—and vicious. The effort it cost her, the khi that she spent to control the beast, was well worthwhile. Her people would never forget seeing her thus.

Behind her the captains called their hunters to order with whistles and bird trills. No one spoke. All had said their farewells in the city.

She glanced up at the Cliff Hollows, saw the pale form standing alone on the dark ledge, and smiled. Sentimental Dareth. He would watch her out of sight before going in. Though she would never do such a thing herself, she liked that he did it.

Clear of the jumbled khi of the city and ahead of the hunters' pack, she thought she sensed a whisper of Dareth's khi reaching to her from above. It came and went as she proceeded down the shore, like an elusive fragrance of flowers on the fitful breeze. At last it was lost when the path turned away from the bay, passing inland between ridges that blocked the Cliff Hollows from view and snapping the fragile contact between her and her consort.

 Highstone 

The day of the handfasting dawned bright and clear, with a cool wind whispering of winter. Eliani had long since arisen, for the night had brought her no counsel and little rest. She had tried to meditate, but her thoughts had drifted and she ended imagining she was ensnared in countless ribbons that only tightened as she struggled to break free.

The public circle was decked anew with garlands of autumn flowers, its stone surface adorned by the winds with a scattering of leaves in every shade of flame. As noon approached, all of Highstone's day-biding citizens and many of the night-biders came out for the handfasting, a ceremony that rarely was performed. Ælven lives were long, so to pledge oneself to another for life was no light commitment.

Lord Felisan's minstrels were there, hard at work, their music half-lost amid the chatter of the gathering folk. Eliani lingered nearby, ready to witness the hand-fasting. To her dismay, she learned that her father had invited Turisan to stand witness as well. The Greenglen gave her a brief smile as he joined them, then engaged the two Steppegard witnesses in conversation.

Luruthin stepped up onto the dais beside her, freshly dressed and smiling as if he had not spent the night riding
to Clerestone and back. His eyes took on a shadow of concern as he looked at her.

“What troubles you, Kestrel?”

Eliani noticed Turisan's head turn toward them, but he resumed his conversation. She raised her chin and tried to smile.

“I remember Davhri's handfasting, and how unhappy I was to have her leave us.”

“Ah.” Luruthin grinned and lowered his voice. “I warrant you do not feel quite the same about Beryloni.”

“I am most fond of Beryloni!”

“And distance is said to increase fondness. You will be even more fond of her when she is gone to the Steppes.”

Eliani smacked his arm, stifling a laugh. The two Steppegards were close by, but fortunately, they were attending to Turisan and had not heard.

A hush fell in the circle as the midday sun reached its zenith. The minstrels ceased their music, and a single clear horn note hung in the air. A tall figure in deep blue entered the circle from the north—Heléri, cloaked and veiled in the color of the midnight sky.

Eliani had seldom seen her in daylight. Within the shelter of her hooded cloak, beneath the deep blue veil, her skin glowed rose-white. Her eyes were a deep rich blue, and her dark hair fell forward from the hood in two long braids bound with the Stonereach colors: violet and blue.

Eliani watched intently, for she had been so young at the time of Davhri's handfasting that she had only a few vague memories. Heléri came before the dais and began the formal ceremony, pacing the edge of the public circle and pausing in each direction to offer greetings to the ældar, as Felisan had done on Evennight. When she returned to the east, she stepped onto the dais and gathered the witnesses around her.

“Gentle friends, kindred of Stonereach and of Steppegard, and honored guests, before you come two souls to be forever handfasted. Bear you all witness to their pledge.”

From the north, under banners of violet and blue, came Beryloni with thirty of House Felisanin. She wore a blue and violet mantle over her pale gown and a circlet of autumn flowers in her hair. From the south came Gemaron, attired in a tunic of russet and green, attended by his kindred beneath fluttering flags in the same Steppegard colors.

Heléri stepped forward, the handfasting ribbon in her hands. Sunlight caught the interwoven colors and made the silver script flash and glisten.

“Who stands forth for Stonereach?”

Beryloni's parents, long ribbons of blue and violet in their hands, came forward with their daughter between them. They led her to face Heléri.

“And who for Steppegard?”

Gemmani and Rhomiron led Gemaron to his place, bearing ribbons of russet and pine. Heléri gazed down at the couple before her.

“Gemaron and Beryloni, you stand before us to join hand and heart, never again to part in flesh or in spirit. If this is not your choice, now is the time to withdraw.”

Gemaron looked at Beryloni, who stood smiling, white flowers trembling in her burnished hair. Eliani feared for a moment that he would balk, but he smiled back at Beryloni, then spoke in a clear voice that rang through the circle.

“I choose to be handfasted to Beryloni of House Felisanin, never to part again.”

Beryloni declared likewise. Heléri beckoned to them.

“Then join hands and be bound together by your kin before these witnesses.”

Gemaron took Beryloni's hand in his, and Heléri
drew them forward. Bishani, Beryloni's mother, laid her blue ribbon across their clasped hands.

“I bind you together under Stonereach.”

She crossed the ribbon once below their hands, then stepped back, retaining the ends. Gemmani placed her dark green ribbon over the blue and crossed it.

“I bind you together under Steppegard.”

Likewise their fathers, Lanrhusan and Rhomiron, bound them with the violet and russet ribbons. Heléri then laid the handfasting ribbon over all.

“I bind you together in heart, body, and spirit.”

She crossed the ribbon once and began to weave it with all the others. As the five traded the ribbons back and forth, Eliani watched the pattern envelop the couple's clasped hands. Heléri spoke while she guided the work.

“This union is not only of two souls but of two houses, Rhomironan and Felisanan, and of two realms, the Steppe Wilds and Alpinon. In this joining all our ties of kindred are renewed. Though many leagues separate us, though we stand under different colors, we are all of one people, the ælven who first walked this land when the stars were young. May those in spirit as well as those in flesh extend their blessings over Gemaron and Beryloni, who from this day forth shall be as one.”

The woven ribbons now covered the couple's arms below their wrists. At a sign from Heléri, the ends were let fall to flutter in the breeze. Sunlight caught at the blessings woven into the ends of the handfasting ribbon.

Eliani felt a tingle of khi in the air; there was strong magecraft at work here. She saw the bliss on the couple's faces and marveled. She could not imagine doing this, pledging herself to one partner for all the centuries ahead. She had not managed even a single year despite the best intentions.

It seemed that her gentle, somewhat foolish cousin had more courage than she. Beneath the crown of white blossoms, Beryloni's face shone with confidence and happiness.

Eliani glanced at the other witnesses and saw that Turisan was staring at the couple's bound hands. He looked up at her, dark eyes intense. Eliani shifted her gaze, her heart racing uncomfortably.

Heléri bade Gemaron and Beryloni raise their joined hands high for all to see and make their personal pledges to each other. When they were finished, she turned to the Stonereach party and bade them bring forth the emblem of Beryloni's craft, a large distaff elaborately decorated with flowers and ribbons, to the dais. Beryloni was a weaver, a good one, and her family was justly proud of her skill. Her parents accepted the distaff and knelt, each holding an end of it just above the ground so that it separated Gemaron and Beryloni from Heléri.