Too Many Princes (43 page)

The newcomer had removed her cap, releasing a tangle of ruddy curls behind the two braids in front. At least she had no horns, he thought. A whiff of pine came with her, as if she had used the powerful scent to disguise her body odor from enemy trackers.

Brastigan scowled.
“
What do you want?
”

He could see the details of her garb now. Rows of stitching showed where something had been sewn into her jerkin to stiffen it. From the spacing of the stitches, it was most likely elk rib bones. A dark blue
jeup
hung at the base of her throat. Its design was invisible in the failing light.

Her face, above it, was thinner than he had first thought. Dark hollows ringed her eyes, and her cheek
bones stood out below. She looked at the girl with a kind of hunger.

“
Answer me,
”
Brastigan growled.

Shaelen's dark eyes were faintly sad now. She nodded toward the girl, who made herself small against Brastigan's side.
“
Maess
said you took good care of my shadow. I came to thank you.
”

“
I didn't do it for you,
”
Brastigan answered curtly. Yriatt's student didn't seem to have the same egotism, but it would take more than a soft voice to placate him.

“
Even so, you did a kindness when you didn't know me.
”
Shaelen broke off a piece of bread and offered it to the girl. She took it hesitantly, and held it in her lap.

Brastigan looked between them for a moment, the witch with smoldering hair and sun-toned skin beside the girl as blonde and pale as the weathered stones above them.

“
If she's your shadow,
”
he snapped,
“
why doesn't she look like you?
”

“
I don't know why
Maess
chose that form,
”
Shaelen answered frankly.
“
Perhaps to isolate her, so she wouldn't bond with those around her.
”

Sardonically, Brastigan smiled.
“
It didn't work.
”

Softly, Shaelen said,
“
But you must be a man of rare perception to see beyond her affliction. I think that's what angers
Maess
, you know. That you saw, when even she did not.
”

“
Don't give me too much credit,
”
he mumbled around a bite of dry bread. All he'd perceived was an opportunity to embarrass the haughty Yriatt. Only later had his purpose changed.

There was a flicker in Shaelen's dark eyes, as if she knew what he was thinking.

“
I understand how you feel,
”
Shaelen said quietly.

“
So you know all about me and how I feel?
”
Brastigan mocked her presumption.
“
Well, I'm glad someone does.
”

“
I didn't mean...
”
Shaelen began.

He cut in,
“
All I know is, your witch took my brother away. Now she's going to take my friend away.
”
He gestured to the girl.
“
What will I be left with?
”

“
You will not lose your brother,
”
Shaelen protested.

“
Oh, no. Of course not,
”
Brastigan answered sarcastically.
“
I didn't lose him. He left. Turned and walked away—to her.
”

He glared across the dark cavern, where Yriatt and Lottres were speaking with Pikarus and Javes. He would have liked to know what they spoke of, but his unwelcome companion persisted.

“
Do not be afraid of your brother,
”
Shaelen said.
“
You must have been close friends for a long time. Now he is changing. Perhaps that is what frightens you. But his love for you will not change. Try to trust him as you once did.
”

“
Mind your own business,
”
Brastigan barked. She didn't know him at all, and yet she talked about his life.

Shaelen shrugged, and tore off a bite of jerky. Brastigan wished she would leave. He didn't want to like her. She tried again.

“
Maess
once told me,
”
Shaelen began,
“
that all who come to her are desperate. Were you desperate?
”

“
Nobody was desperate when we left Harburg,
”
he drawled scornfully. Although, that might not be true of Lottres. He'd used the same word himself, that his brother was desperate. He had to admit,
“
By the time we got to Hawkwing House, Crutham had been invaded. Maybe we were all desperate, then.
”

Shaelen smiled at the wry jest, and added,
“
As she is, for her father.
”

Brastigan was silent, rejecting any sympathy for the heartless witch.
“
Were you desperate?
”
he asked, goading Shaelen.

“
Oh, yes.
”
She seemed to feel no shame in admitting it. As she chewed another bit of jerky, she went on.
“
I was hearing things no one else did, and I wanted it to stop. That's what I asked of her.
”

Brastigan glowered, wondering why she was telling him this. He certainly wasn't interested in her reminiscences. Because she seemed to expect it, he asked,
“
Well, did she?
”

Shaelen smiled faintly.
“
No.
”

“
Sounds like her.
”

“
She didn't do it for me,
”
Shaelen amended.
“
She taught me to do it myself. By then, I understood what I was hearing and chose to listen, instead.
”
Her dark eyes gleamed in the dusk of the cave.
“
Now, I want those voices back.
”

There it was at last, in her eyes. The desperation she spoke of. A hunger for power, Brastigan called it. She was just trying to make friends so he would give her the girl without a fight.

“
I knew it,
”
he growled.
“
You and that witch, you're just the same.
”

Shaelen straightened slightly, anger narrowing her eyes. Her smile was forced, now.
“
I'll take that as a compliment.
”

“
Don't.
”

Suddenly she leaned forward, took his hand. Her fingers were as hard and calloused as a man's.
“
Have you ever been injured, so you couldn't walk?
”
she asked urgently.
“
That is how I feel now. I bear you no ill will, but I must be whole again.
”

“
Don't touch me.
”
Brastigan twisted his hand out of Shaelen's grasp. He put his arm around the girl's shoulder, pulling her close to him.
“
She isn't property. You can't trade her around like a horse.
”

Then, from behind him, came the voice he wished least of all to hear.

“
Yet it is wrong to take for yourself what belongs to another,
”
Yriatt said coldly.
“
That would be theft. Don't you agree?
”

He looked right up into her face.
“
We don't keep slaves in Crutham.
”

Exasperated, Lottres knelt beside him.
“
Brastigan, be reasonable. We need Shaelen at her full power, so
Maess
can free Master Ymell. If we can't do that, Crutham is as good as gone, and then what have we come all this way for?
”

Brastigan hesitated. Lottres was using the same word for Yriatt as Shaelen had. Was this some kind of secret language?

“
Hear me out, prince of Crutham,
”
Yriatt said.
“
I cannot deny the shadow has its own life. If you cooperate, I will try to preserve it.
”
She spoke these words as if she were committing herself to a great indignity. Brastigan stared at her, unwilling to trust.

Lottres tried again.
“
You don't have to stay and watch.
”

“
Don't try to get rid of me!
”
Brastigan snarled.

“
Your presence is not required,
”
said Yriatt.

“
My shadow trusts him,
”
Shaelen put in.
“
I will trust him.
”

Brastigan glared at her, wondering if she meant it.

“
Very well,
”
Yriatt nodded.