Masques (Sianim #1)(28)

He tensed but answered with the same directness that she had shown. "I have reasons for the mask that have nothing to do with trust or the lack of it." She'd noticed before the curious slurring to his words that the Wolf did not have, although the coarse sepulchral tone was the same.

She held his eyes. "Don't they? There are only the two of us in this room."

"Cave," he interjected mildly.

She conceded his correction but not the change of subject. "'Cave,' then. A mask is something to hide behind. If I am the only one here to look at your face, then you are hiding from me. You don't trust me."

"Plague take it, Aralorn. I have reasons to wear this mask." He tapped the silver mask. There was enough temper in his eyes, if not his voice, that a prudent person would have backed down.

Not even her enemies had ever called Aralorn prudent.

"Not with me," She wouldn't retreat.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and opened them again. The glitter of temper had been replaced by something that she couldn't read. "The mask is more honest than what is beneath it." There was emotion coloring his voice, but it was disguised so it could have been as mild as sorrow or as wild as the rage portrayed by the mask.

She waited, knowing that if she commented on his obscure statement he was fully capable of sidetracking her into his peculiar philosophical mishmash until she forgot her purpose.

When he saw that she wasn't going to speak he said softly, "I find that trust is hard for me to learn, Lady."

There was nothing obvious holding the mask on his face, no hidden straps to hinder him when he put his hands up and undid the simple spell. He gripped the mask and took it off smoothly. She probably only imagined the slight hesitation before his face was revealed.

She had thought that it was his identity that he hid. If she had been another person she might have gasped. But she had seen burn victims before, even a few who were worse - most of those had been dead. The area around the golden eyes was unscarred, as if he'd protected them with an arm. The rest of his face matched his voice. It could have belonged to a corpse; it had that same peculiar tight look, as if the skin was too small. His mouth was drawn so tightly that he must have trouble eating. She knew now why his voice had sounded muffled, less clearly enunciated than it had been when he took wolfshape.

She looked for a long time, longer than she needed to so that she could think of the best way to react. Then she stood up and walked around the table, bent over and kissed him lightly on the lips.

Returning to her seat she said quietly, "Leave your mask off when we are here alone, if you will. I would rather look at you than a mask."

He smiled warmly at her, with his eyes: his lips were capable of no such feat. Then he answered what she didn't feel free to ask. "It was that spell of which I lost control. I told you that uncontrolled magic takes the shape of flame." As he spoke he clenched his fist and then opened it to show her the fire it held. "Human flesh burns easier than stone, and the ae'Magi wasn't able to extend his shield to me fast enough."

It took effort but she sensed that he was still uncertain, so she grinned at him and playfully knocked his hand aside. "Get that out of here. You, of all people, should know better than to play with fire." She knew by his laugh that she had taken the right tack and was glad for the years of acting that allowed her to lighten the mood.

Obediently he extinguished the flame, and with no more ceremony than he usually exhibited he turned back to his book. Aralorn went to the nearest bookcase and picked out another book. After it had been duly inspected for traps and pitfalls she opened it and pretended to read as she pondered on several other questions that popped up. Things like: why couldn't a magician, who could take on the form of a wolf indefinitely, alter his face until it was scarless? The most likely answer to that was that he didn't want to. That led to a whole new set of questions.

She was so engrossed in thought that she jumped at the sound of Wolf's voice as he announced that it was time to leave. She set the book she'd opened on the table on top of the book she'd forgotten to tell Wolf about. Tomorrow was soon enough for both books. As she started after Wolf she caught a motion out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned there was nothing there. Nonetheless, she fell the itch of being watched by unseen eyes all the way through the caverns.

As they left the caves, Aralorn noted that there were faded markings just inside the entrance. Some sort of warding was her guess, although she wasn't familiar with alt of the symbols. Wolf had probably put them up to keep unwanted visitors out of the cave, although they didn't seem to have had much effect on whatever it was that was in his library. They hadn't stopped the little girl, Astrid, from her explorations either. With a shrug Aralorn followed Wolf outside.

Outside the grey skies carried the dimness of early evening. Reluctant drops of rain fell here and there, icy and cold on her skin. There was no wind near the caves but Aralorn could hear its relentless spirit weaving its way through the nearby trees. She looked apprehensively at she sky. It was still too early for snow, but the mountains were renowned for their freak storms, and the icy rain boded ill.

Seeing her glance, the Wolf said, "There will be no snow tonight at least. Tomorrow, maybe. If it hits too soon we might have to move them into the caves. I would rather not do that; it's too easy to get lost, as it has already been demonstrated. Next time there might not be a rescue." She saw that he had replaced the mask without her noticing when he did it.