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It’s no accident that Gabalon was never defeated until the cliff fauns decided to enter the war. Historians remember the victory. What they often forget is how long Danda-lay waited, watching the wolflings and others break their teeth on Selbis. The cliff fauns were thought to be as much the wizard’s creatures as the swamp fauns.
—Archemais, A Wizard’s History of Panamindorah
Shadock was glaring at Archemais. “Who are you,” he spat, “that we should listen to any of this? We have not even tried to parlay with this Targon. Perhaps no battles need be fought. We have no proof that he is a wizard, but we know that you are. It was always the way of such creatures to make shelts fight their wars.”
“I was the prophet of Panamindorah,” said Archemais. “I was the first to stand against Gabalon. I am also his brother. This is my son. Corellian, show them the Muse.”
Corry held up the flute on its chain. He passed it around, let them touch it. “A curiosity,” said Shadock. “It means nothing.”
“It means everything,” said Capricia. “Six years ago, I took it from Hualien in a fight when the Raiders attacked our caravan. With it, I found Corellian, trapped in another world. A centaur demolished my study in search of it during their visit last summer. It was the real reason I was kidnapped at Lupricasia. Syrill helped in my kidnapping because he thought it would rid the wood of cats. Liliana helped in order to be rid of Lexis. The swamp fauns and centaurs helped in order to frame the cats and remove them from the coming battle. But Targon set it in motion, and he did it for the flute.”
“Of what use is it,” asked Meuril, “this thing my daughter was tortured for?”
“None to us,” said Archemais. “The Muse is visible only in the hand of the prophet, and no new prophet has been revealed. It was never intended for use by anyone else. The most we can do with it right now is to keep it safe.”
“Is it true,” said Chance suddenly, “that there are cat shelts in Kazar Swamp and that they helped to save Danda-lay?”
“It is true,” said Archemais. “I suspect that at some point during Gabalon’s reign, he participated in their extermination, but sold a few to his lackeys, the swamp fauns. They were kept as slaves and their existence eventually forgotten by the rest of Panamindorah. When the wizard fell, the swamp fauns continued to hide them, even during their occupation. I was appointed their governor during that period, and even I knew nothing of the fealidae until later.”
“You were governor of Kazar during the occupation?” asked Meuril with interest.
“Yes, but shelts became suspicious of me. I was a wizard, and I was no longer the prophet, and when Danda-lay’s library burned, I was blamed. They ordered me to council to face charges of conspiracy. I disappeared into the swamp. I washed my hands of Panamindorah and never intended to involve myself with shelts again. Some years after that, house Anroth began an aggressive breeding program with their fealidae. They became bolder with their slaves, and I found out about them. I did nothing, because I told myself that if I came out of retirement every time I saw shelts being cruel to one another, I would never rest. But then someone brought my son back.” He glanced at Capricia. “And I changed my mind.”
* * * *
Corry watched the Raiders with hungry eyes. He’d considered visiting their quarters late last night when he and the rest of Archemais’s company reached Laven-lay. They’d ridden hard and fast to get here so quickly, and he was very tired. He’d decided to wait until today. Patience, he kept telling himself. You can get them alone. Not here in front of everyone. Just wait.
Corry listened with half an ear as Meuril, Shadock, Lexis, and his father wrangled about how many shelts could be collected to march against Selbis and how, when, and where they ought to be deployed. Fealidae and cats did not figure largely in the calculations. Most had remained in Danda-lay to make sure the city was not retaken. A few were expected to trickle into Laven-lay over the next few days.
“Speed is more important than numbers,” Archemais kept saying. “I suggest you take the remains of Danda-lay’s army and every able-bodied wood faun in Laven-lay and march tomorrow. Never mind that you have only a few hundred. If Gabalon is allowed to repair his defenses and gather his wizards, even a hundred thousand may fail.”
“Where is Syrill?” demanded Meuril at last. “He knows our army and its officers better than anyone.”
“He’s here,” said Lexis quietly, “but he didn’t think you’d want to see him.”
“He’s right,” growled Meuril. Capricia murmured something in his ear, and he sighed. “Syrill’s sentencing will be postponed until this is over. If you would take a message to him, tell him to organize our troops for departure tomorrow.”
Corry was mildly surprised to discover that he was expected to accompany the Raiders to Selbis. “Our attack should be three pronged,” said Archemais, “the Raiders to deal with the city, the faun armies to deal with the centaurs, and Corellian and I to deal with the wizard.”
Fenrah, Laylan, and Sham seemed to be having an argument among themselves. After a few minutes, Laylan cleared his throat. “Sires, if the council has nothing else to say to the wolflings, then we’d like to begin planning our task.”
Finally! Corry followed them out of the throne room. His heart was beating hard. His hands felt clammy. “I need to know,” he said as soon as the doors closed. “What did I shift to in the wood?”
The wolflings stopped talking and looked at him. “You flickered,” said Fenrah at last. “You didn’t hold your shape, but what we saw—”
“You were a dragon,” said Sham, “perhaps twice the size of a wolf, and you had feathers. They were the color of pearl, iridescent, and the light struck rainbows from them. You were the most beautiful and the most terrible thing I’ve ever seen. Is that what you wanted to know?”
“Yes,” whispered Corry.
The wolflings walked away and resumed their argument. Corry stood still in the antechamber for a long time.
* * * *
Sham sat on the edge of his bed in the infirmary. He felt very tired. Attending the council had put a strain on him. Two of his arrow wounds were bleeding again, and he redressed them, moving stiffly and painfully. Talis had been with him earlier, but now she’d gone to be with the rest of the Raiders when Fenrah talked to them about their mission. If all went as planned, they would leave tonight.
Laylan wanted to go with them to Selbis, and Fenrah had objected. She said that if he was killed, the faun treaty with the wolflings might fall apart. Laylan had pointed out that wolfling cooperation might do the same if anything happened to her. They argued until Sham spoke up. “I think you ought to let him go, Fenny. I can’t. I’m not well enough, and you might need the extra hands. Your arm’s broken, and half the pack have minor injuries.”
They’d looked at each other. He had an idea that she’d been dreading telling him he couldn’t come, and she was relieved that he wasn’t going to argue. Still, he half hoped she’d disagree with him. Never in their long partnership had there been a major risk they’d not shared. They were each other’s only family and closest friends. She was the leader by right of blood and by temperament, but he was the elder. He’d looked after her, protected her.
Tell me I’m wrong, cousin. Tell me you need me. Tell me I’m not being replaced.
But she only nodded. “Alright, Sham. Get well.”
Sham watched them go. You’d better take care of her, Laylan, or you’d better not come back.
Towards evening, Fenrah returned, and this time the whole Raider pack came with her. They were dressed in travel cloaks and outfitted with fine new weapons. Sham told them each good-bye. He exchanged a few jokes with Sevn. Talis hugged him, and he gave her more tips on what to do with various wounds the Raiders had acquired from Daren’s attack. Danzel came last holding something behind his back. It was a violin.
Sham could have cried. “You didn’t steal it, did you?”
Danzel shook his head. “I asked Chance. He got it for me.”
Sham was still turning the instrument over when they all filed out. Fenrah lingered a moment, then hugged him. The violin twanged discordantly as she pushed it out of the way. “I’m sorry, Sham.”
“I know,” he said. “It’s alright.”
“We’ll come back.”
But not to me. He sat in his little room in the dark for a long time after they had gone. Finally, he picked up the violin and started to play.
