Masques (Sianim #1)(17)

She tried once to shift back into her human shape, but as she'd expected she was unable to do so. Rather than panicking she relaxed and thought wryly that at least she wasn't bored anymore.

"How much, merchant?" the magician asked in Rethian. His voice was distorted with a strange accent - or maybe it was just the leather bag.

"Fourteen kiben." The merchant too spoke good Rethian but his voice was hoarse and trembling. Still, Aralorn noticed, the price he'd quoted was at least twice what the items were worth, unless there was something extremely valuable amongst them.

"Six, merchant." The magician's voice may have had an odd slur to it, but it was still effective in striking terror into the heart of the merchant. Aralorn had the feeling that it wouldn't take much to strike terror into this merchant's heart.

"Six, I accept," he squeaked. There was the sound of money changing hands, then a distinctive pop, which Aralorn thought either signaled the merchant or the magician and herself being removed to other places. There was a moment's pause and then a third person's voice spoke.

"Thank you, my friend. It worked as you said it would." The voice was reserved and of courtly accents. It was also young and belonged to Myr, sometime king of Reth.

"Hopefully our friend will not think to question all of the merchants in Hernal." There was something about the tone of the magician's voice that was familiar, but the accent kept throwing her.

"He wouldn't learn much even if he did. The merchant doesn't know where you brought him to."

The magician grunted. "He knows that it was in the North, because of the cold. He knows that it was in the mountains, because of the cave. That is more than we can afford to have the ae'Magi know."

Myr gave no vocal reply, but he must have nodded, because when he spoke again it was on a different topic. "What was that you grabbed off the floor?"

"Ah yes, that. Just a ... spy. Small but effective nonetheless." Was that amusement she picked up in his tone?

The bag was opened and she found herself hanging by her tail for the perusal of the two men. She twisted around and bit the hand that held her, hard. The magician laughed, but moved his hand so that she sat comfortably on his palm.

"My Lord, may I present to you the Lady Aralorn, sometime spy of Sianim." She twisted about to look at him; just how had he known her name'? It wasn't as if she were one of the famous generals that everyone knew. In fact, as a spy she'd worked pretty hard to keep her name out of the spotlight. Her mouse shape now shouldn't make matters any easier. Then, without the additional muffling of the bag, she recognized the voice. It was altered through the mask and a human throat, but she knew it anyway. No one else could have that particularly macabre timbre. It was Wolf.

"So." Myr's voice was quiet. "Sianim spies on me now." Aralorn turned her attention to Myr. In the short time since she'd seen him he'd aged years. He was thinner, his mouth held taut and his eyes belonged to the harsh old warrior who had been his grandfather. Instead of state robes he wore clothing that a rough trapper or a traveling merchant might wear, patched here and there with neat stitches.

Aralorn jumped nimbly off her perch and resumed her normal shape, which was not one that he would recognize. Magic was used to change her form, but unlike human magic, shapeshifters didn't need magic to keep that shape, so that even someone immune to magic would see only the form that a shapeshifter wore. When he'd seen her at the magician's castle, she'd been a pretty blonde designed to catch the ae'Magi's eye.

"No, my Lord," she answered. "Or at least not me. Sianim has spies on everyone. In fact, this is a rather fortunate meeting; I was looking for you to tell you that the ae'Magi's messengers have reported your bit of madness to all the nearby townsfolk." She spoke slowly and formally to give him a chance to adjust to her altered state.

Rethians were not less prejudiced against werefolk, just more likely to admit their existence. Since the shapeshifter tribes lived in the northern mountains of Reth and paid tribute yearly to the king of Reth in the form of finely woven tapestries and carefully crafted tools delivered in the night by unseen persons, the Rethians had a tougher time dismissing them as hearsay.

Folk tales warned villagers to stay out of the forests at night, or they would be fodder of the shapeshifters. Given the antagonism that the shapeshifters felt toward invading humans, Aralorn was afraid that the stories might not have it alt wrong. The royal family tended not to be as wary, probably the result of the yearly tribute.

Myr glanced at the magician, who nodded his head and spoke. "Whether she was spying on you or not I cannot say. That she means you no harm, I will vouch for." The slurred quality was not a product of the muffling of the pouch, after all, maybe it was the mask.

"She is something of a scholar, and I need someone to help me in my research. If she is not occupied with other things, it would do no harm to bring her to camp with us. She can fight, and Temris himself knows that we have need of fighters. Also, she stands in danger from the ae'Magi if he should discover who it was that spied on him."

"You spied on the Magician?" Myr raised an eyebrow at her.

Aralorn nodded, "It wasn't my favorite assignment, but definitely one of the more interesting." She let her face shift quickly to the one he'd seen in the ae'Magi's castle and then went back to normal.