Masques (Sianim #1)(33)

"Yup," she said wisely, noticing that he wasn't holding her as stiffly. "Then," Aralorn continued, "she has her way with him and he has to marry her. It's nice to know that I haven't fallen to that level ... yet."

She paused and then said, "I was just getting a little chilled and thought to myself, 'Aralorn, what is the easiest way to get warm? The fire is nice but moving requiresso much effort. Ah yes,' I said to myself, 'why didn't I think of it before? There is all of that heat going to waste on the other side of the fire.' All that it took was a few broad hints and presto, you're here: instant heat."

"Yes," he said, tightening his grip in a brief hug, "I can see how that works, underhanded of you."

She nodded happily: the tension caused by the nightmare dissipated with the familiar banter. "I thought so too. I got that way by being a spy - we are taught how to be sneaky." She yawned sleepily, closing her eyes. "Oh, I meant to ask - who is keeping watch on the camp?"

"Don't worry about it," he answered her. "The ae'Magi won't have planned two attacks in the same evening, and he won't find out about Edom's failure until he doesn't report. Magical communication isn't all that it could be in these mountains."

"Right." Her voice slurred as she spoke. As she shifted to a more comfortable position she decided that Wolf was more comfortable to sleep on when he was wearing human shape; he smelled better too.

Wolf waited until she was asleep before he set her back down on her blankets. He added his blankets to hers and tucked it carefully around her. He brushed a hand against her cheek. "Good night, Lady."

He shifted into his wolf shape and stretched out beside her and stared into the night.

* * *

AS SHE HAD EXPECTED, ARALORN WAS ALONE WHEN SHE WOKE up. Wolf's longest absences were the result of a display of affection on his part, as if it was something with which he was not comfortable or, she thought with sudden insight, felt he didn't deserve.

To her surprise, her reception at camp was cordial. She collected a few wary looks and that was all. Maybe, having so recently been the object of persecution themselves, they were less inclined to judge someone else. More probably, decided Aralorn, Myr was keeping them too busy sewing and digging to worry about her one way or another.

If the adults showed little reaction, the children were fascinated by their shapechanger. They wanted to know if she could change into a rock (no) or a bird (they liked the goose, but would have preferred an eagle or better yet a vulture) and if shapeshifters really had to drink blood once a year, and ... she was grateful when Wolf came to get her. For once she was tired of telling stories.

"I hope," she said, as they reached the caves, "that they don't believe half of what I tell them."

"They probably don't," Wolf replied. "Your problem is that they will believe the wrong half."

She laughed and ducked into the opening in the limestone wall.

When they reached the library, she noticed that her notes had been scattered around. One of the pages that she had been writing on the previous day was conspicuously situated on the space where Wolf worked in. Looking closer at it, she saw that it was the one that she'd been using to jot down the stories she'd found in the last book she'd read the day before. She never had gotten around to telling Wolf about the apprentice's spell that negated magic.

Wolf took up the paper and read her closely written scribblings with interest. While he did so, Aralorn looked carefully around the library and wondered what kind of a breeze could pull a sheet of paper out from under the books that were still neatly stacked where she had left them.

"I assume that if the apprentice were given a name, you would have mentioned it?" Wolf asked as he set down the paper.

She nodded. "I don't remember overseeing that story before, so it can't be very well known."

Wolf tapped the paper impatiently with a finger. "I have read that story somewhere else. I know that the one that I read gave his name. I just need to remember which book I read it in." Wolf stood silently a minute before shaking his head in disgust. "I can't think of it now. If I keep trying I may never remember it. Let's work on this mess" - he waved his hand vaguely at the bookcases - "and hopefully I will remember later."

They sat in their respective chairs and read. Aralorn waded through three rather boring histories before she found anything of note. As she was reading the last page of the history of the Zorantra family (who were known for developing a second-rate wine), the spine of the poorly preserved book gave way.

While inspecting the damage, she noticed that the back cover consisted of two pieces of leather that were carefully stitched together to hide a small space inside - just big enough for the folded pages it contained. Slipping the sheets out of their resting place, she examined them cautiously.

By this time Wolf was used to Aralorn laughing at odd moments, but he had just finished deciphering a particularly useless spell and so was ready to relax for a minute. "What is it?" he asked.

She grinned at him and waved the frail cluster of parchment in his general direction. "Look at this, I found this hidden in a book and thought that it might be a spell or something interesting, but it looks as though someone who had the book before you acquired it was quite an artist."

He took the sheets from her. They were covered with scenes of improbably endowed nude figures in even more improbable positions. He was about to give it back to her when he stopped and took a closer look. His eyes were in the shadow, and the burn scars made his face as impassive as his mask, so she couldn't tell what he was thinking. After a moment he crumpled the pages and they burst into flame - but the flame was the wrong color and burned too hot.