Too Many Princes (41 page)

SHADOW WOMEN

Trust Brastigan to ruin everything, Lottres thought fiercely. He and Yriatt had had everything under control. Especially the mules. Lottres had felt what Yriatt did. He had copied her and held the mules all on his own. Even if they were merely beasts, Lottres had reveled in his power—until Brastigan turned his triumph to ashes.

He and Yriatt had been so careful to conceal their magic. There might have been a chance to beat back the assault and keep the
eppagadrocca
from sensing their presence. But no, Brastigan had to play the hero and nearly get himself killed, and the girl went mad with fear. How she got such power, Lottres didn't know, hollow as she was. What mattered was that the enemy knew for certain there were wizards approaching who weren't
eppagadrocca.
Whatever danger they had faced before, it was doubled now.

The Cruthans made the best speed possible, tending southward when they could. Through gaps in the stony palisades, Lottres caught glimpses of Altannath. It wasn't a friendly sight.

The valley below was broad, shallow and bare of trees. Clumps of tawny grass and heaps of crumbled stone were scattered around a green lake that shimmered beneath the sun. Near the center of the barren vale was a jutting butte, easily taller than the hills ringing in the valley. At its knees were a cluster of tents and a makeshift corral. Weather had dulled the crimson cloth, but there was no mistaking the standard of Sillets.

Along the lake
shore, patterns were scratched into the dry ground: a grid work of paths between blocks of flattened grass. This had been a much larger encampment until recently. Of more immediate concern, however, were the plumes of dust swirling above the valley. Lines of bone men crept beneath them, patient and mindless as worms.

Lottres could feel the
eppagadrocca,
too. He heard bits of their talk, and felt them probing, seeking. His rage against Brastigan could be a weakness, Lottres knew—something the enemy might detect. He kept his guard up while Yriatt shielded both herself and the girl. Whatever Lottres had to say to Brastigan would have to wait.

* * *

The riders descended quickly, losing themselves in the rocky warrens. Anger and confusion rode with them, filling the air like the dust the mules raised. Mostly it was the girl that tangled Brastigan's thoughts. Whenever he turned toward her she was looking back, anxiously, as if he might vanish from her sight.

When she looked at him like that, he knew exactly what she wanted. It was the same thing he wanted of any female he kept company with. Brastigan had never waited for any woman. If she wasn't prepared to get physical, he moved on. Now he wondered if he had been waiting, after all. Waiting for the girl to be ready.

And yet, this one was worth waiting for. She was like a flower, opening from a tightly closed bud, so perfect in her innocence and silence. Her growing awareness of the world around her was a kind of revelation. Brastigan saw himself, through her eyes, as a supreme figure, admired and adored. Whatever his relationships with women had been before, none of them had ever made him feel worthy of such regard.

Rocks served to conceal the Cruthan force, and they held no tracks. Perhaps that was why they were able to outpace the enemy. Yet no one was in the mood to take it slowly. They pressed the animals hard, until even the Urulai horses were flagging.

Brastigan called to Lottres, whose mule lagged behind Yriatt's horse,
“
If we don't take pity on these beasts, we'll be walking!
”

Over his shoulder, Lottres gave Brastigan a look of supreme irritation. He nodded, but didn't speak. Brastigan shrugged to himself. Let Lottres go ahead and ignore him. He'd soon find out what happened when you over
-
taxed your steed.

A while later, though, Yriatt turned aside. Soon they came to a sluggish stream, its banks thick with scrubby willow trees. They halted at last, and crowded the mules beneath the trees.

It wasn't easy getting down from the saddle. Brastigan's muscles had grown cold as he rode, leaving him stiff and sore all over. The others seemed to feel little better. Javes had his hands full keeping the beasts from guzzling the tepid water. Pikarus got the wounded men down to rest under the trees. Both Henrick and Yugo seemed lucid, though Yugo's blood had soaked through his bandages. Brastigan reminded himself to speak with them soon. They deserved to be thanked for their efforts.

Considering recent events, however, Brastigan didn't want to leave the girl alone for long. Limping like an old man, he went to get her down from her horse. She practically fell into his arms, drawing fresh complaints from his many bruises. It hardly seemed to matter. For a moment Brastigan couldn't move. It felt so good to have a girl clinging to him that way. He gazed into her trusting eyes, knowing she would gladly give him whatever he wanted. Whatever a man wanted.

He swallowed hard, and gently moved her back.

Then came Yriatt's imperious voice.
“
Give me the girl.
”

Brastigan turned, confronting the witch in the shifting shadows of the willow trees. Yriatt was haughty with anger. Lottres was at her shoulder, harried yet smug. Like Oskar preparing to bully someone, Brastigan thought, and that was a comparison he had never thought to make.

Brastigan attempted a pleasant tone.
“
No, I will not. But I will talk to you about it.
”

“
She is under my protection,
”
Yriatt replied. Her lips hardly moved as she spoke.
“
Give her to me.
”

“
I said, no,
”
Brastigan answered.
“
She isn't a thing to be handed around.
”

“
You act like she is,
”
Lottres interrupted.
“
Like she's a toy.
”
His eyes gleamed. Brastigan thought he must be enjoying that he was right, and his brother wrong.

It grated, but Brastigan knew his brother was partly correct. The girl had been the witch's creature to begin with, but no force on earth was going to make him walk away from her now.

“
I told you, it isn't like that,
”
Brastigan said, holding to his temper.
“
I'm trying to consider her feelings.
”

In a choked voice, Yriatt said,
“
She is not supposed to have feelings. If she does, then you are to blame.
”

“
Not have feelings?
”
he scowled.
“
Everyone has feelings. Even you.
”

Yriatt ignored the jibe.
“
I permitted you to care for her because I thought you could do no harm. I was wrong. You cannot be trusted with her.
”

The girl herself had been crowding closer to Brastigan with every harsh word spoken. As Yriatt stepped closer, she slipped completely behind him. He could feel her breathing hard as she clung to his grubby surcoat.

“
I don't think she likes you,
”
Brastigan smirked.

Yriatt drew herself up, her eyes blazing with anger. Whatever she might have done was interrupted as Pikarus suddenly stepped between them.

“
You cannot argue here.
”
Pikarus's clipped voice was a surprise. No polite phrases and deference now—his blue eyes were stern as steel.
“
These are wounded, tired men. Your quarrels will destroy their spirit when they need it most. If you must disagree, then move out of our hearing.
”

“
Fine with me.
”
Brastigan glared a challenge to Yriatt.

“
Very well,
”
hissed the witch.
“
Let us walk.
”

The four of them pushed their way upstream. Lottres had to help Yriatt get her horns through the tangled branches. They stopped in a hollow among the crowding willows. The amber glow of sunlight through the branches seemed to come from very far away. There was scarcely room for Brastigan to stand straight, but he found a twisted root for the girl to sit on. Then he stood in front of her, facing Lottres and Yriatt.

Pikarus came as well, to Brastigan's surprise, placing himself between the two sides. Ready to jump in, if he had to. What Brastigan didn't know was whose side Pikarus would take.

“
All right,
”
Brastigan began,
“
before you land on me about what I've done, why don't you tell me what you've done?
”

“
I?
”
Yriatt said. The single word was sharp enough to cut leather.

“
You,
”
he answered.
“
You told us you try to help sick people. It's obvious she's not right in the head. So is she sick or under a spell? What are you doing to help her?
”

“
She is not under a spell,
”
Yriatt bit out.
“
She
is
a spell. A shadow, to be precise.
”

“
A shadow?
”
Brastigan asked.
“
What's that supposed to mean?
”

Even Lottres looked confused, but the witch regarded Brastigan as if he had asked the most stupid question possible.

Coldly, she explained,
“
We had not been able to learn my father's fate for weeks. Shaelen offered to investigate. Yet a sorceress would be captured or killed before she learned anything. Sillets has many ways to find out its enemies.
”

“
You mean the dogs,
”
Lottres supplied eagerly.

“
And others. That is why I must take such care.
”

Carefully, Pikarus asked,
“
Could no one else go?
”

“
Only a sorceress could understand what she saw,
”
Yriatt told him,
“
or I would have asked the Urulai to do it. I could not come myself, and so I was forced to accept Shaelen's offer. To make her safe, I divided her temporarily from her power. That,
”
she looked to the cringing girl,
“
is merely a shadow. A vessel to contain Shaelen's power until she reclaims it.
”

While Brastigan stared at Yriatt, trying to wrap his mind around what she'd said, Lottres gazed at the girl with stunned admiration.

“
Amazing,
”
he breathed.

The object of all this scrutiny seemed to shrink in on herself. She turned her face away, like a babe too overcome by emotion to even look at what she feared.

Pikarus said,
“
Surely some other...
”

Yriatt shook her head.
“
It must be a living thing, and I could not bestow such power on an unthinking beast.
”

“
So you made your own unthinking beast,
”
Brastigan managed.
“
You made her, full grown, from nothing?
”
How could she have such power, he wondered.

“
I did,
”
Yriatt said. Her dark eyes narrowed with utter contempt.
“
And
you
took her for some peccadillo.
”

Now this, Brastigan knew. He could understand and answer an insult.
“
I don't know why you should assume that about me,
”
he said, with some of her coldness,
“
but it isn't a peccadillo. It is friendship, no more.
”

“
It didn't look like friendship to me,
”
Lottres retorted.

“
Things change,
”
Brastigan thought. Until today, he hadn't known the girl had the feelings she did. He wasn't going to say that to his brother, not when he sided with Yriatt.

“
That's because you've had your head in the clouds,
”
he snapped back.
“
You don't see men dying around you
—
.
”

“
I shall take your word,
”
Yriatt interrupted,
“
as to the nature of the relationship, but you have placed me in a difficult position. The shadow was not supposed to awaken. I didn't think it could. I would very much like to know what you did to cause this.
”

This was the first time Brastigan had ever heard Yriatt admit any uncertainty.
“
If you must know,
”
he drawled, relishing the moment,
“
we played peek-a-boo. And I guess I have to remind you that we're only having this conversation because of her. There were twenty of those bone men to eight of us, and the two of you sitting up there, not stooping to get your hands dirty
—
.
”