Masques (Sianim #1)(43)

Ungentle hands grabbed her upper arms with bruising strength, but the man grunted as he picked her up - she was a lot heavier than she looked. It had been daylight outside, so the gloominess of the torchlit stone walls and her hair, which had come undone from its customary braid and now hung over her face, rendered her effectively blind.

She was stripped with ruthless efficiency. To take her mind off what that meant, she tried to recapture a stray thought she'd had just before Lord Kisrah had sent her over. She had a vague notion that it might be important. Her aching head didn't want to cooperate.

"Look, here, Garogue, she ain't as small as she looks!" Rough laughter and comments she would have felt better not hearing as a second guard neared.

Think, Aralorn, she told herself. I was relieved that ... that I had not met Lord Kisrah before. Her face felt hot and tight, in spite of the coolness of the stone under her feet. Lord Kisrah would not recognize me as the Lyon's daughter. She waited a minute before the significance of that thought hit her. I have, however, met the ae'Magi as the Lyon's daughter. He was intrigued with the color of my eyes - my shapeshifter blood.

Gods, she thought bleakly, if he realizes who I am, he can use my father against me.

While the guards were preoccupied she tried again to change. Not a drastic change this time, just an adjustment to her face and eyes. Her features sharpened until they were as common to Rethian peasant stock as her medium brown eyes. With a bit more effort, her skin darkened to add authenticity.

"Too bad we can't do nothin' with her but look." A calloused hand ran over her hip.

"Yup, don' you ever think nothing else. Just you remember what happened to Len. He thought the ae'Magi wouldn't ever know. Besides, we usually get a turn at 'em."

She was dragged forward again, her exhaustion making her more of a dead weight than before. Her head contacted the stone wall when she was swung over a broad shoulder.

"Yawan! They sure grow these Northerners heavy!" More laughter, but by then Aralorn was beyond caring.

* * *

IT WAS LATE NIGHT WHEN WOLF RETURNED TO THE CAMP. HE expected everyone to be asleep. Instead he came upon Myr seated on a rock in front of the caves and polishing Aralorn's sword by the light of the moon.

"Where did you find it?" Wolf asked. Startled, Myr leapt to his feet, holding the sword at ready.

Seeing Wolf, Myr resumed his former position on the rock. "Oh, it's you, Wolf. No luck?" Myr didn't need to see Wolf's nod to know that Aralorn had not been found; the Wolfs posture was evidence enough.

Myr held the blade up to the light. "I found it in a small cave off the entranceway this evening. Someone had made an attempt to clean it but they didn't do a very good job. I suppose that one of the children found it, and left it there when he realized what it was. I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd clean it - no sense letting a good sword rust."

"No," agreed Wolf, lying down facing Myr with his muzzle on his paws.

After a while Myr asked, "Where did you look?"

So Wolf told him: it took some time. Myr listened, running the soft cloth over the odd-colored blade. When Wolf was done, Myr thought for a minute.

"How did you look for her? I mean, did you just look? Couldn't a shapeshifter change her shape and escape?"

Wolf shook his head. "Once she's in the dungeons, she wouldn't be able to change. The bindings in the dungeons are all cold iron."

"Iron does suppress magic?" Myr said, only half asking.

"Green magic, yes."

The night was still except for the noise the soft cloth made on the sword. Then Myr said, "I'd met her once before, did you know that? It took me a while before I could pin down just where, because I was only, hmm, seven? A more pompous, self-centered, proper little brat than I was you'd be hard pressed to find. At the time I didn't realize exactly who she was, but she had the same mannerisms. Equal with anybody and observing protocol only because it suited her. I was offended, but my grandfather laughed and kissed her hands and said something about counting on her to liven up a dull reception."

There was a brief pause before he continued with his story. "You have to understand that I've been raised reading people's faces all my life. I saw that she really respected the tough old man, and the lack of sincerity in her manners was merely dislike for the untruths that protocol demanded. It was a lesson that I took to heart." Myr paused, absently noting that the blade was almost clean.

Myr set the sword aside and said, "What I'm getting to is this: the ae'Magi was at court a lot in those days. My grandfather thought the world of him. If I met Aralorn at court, wouldn't he have? She's not ... pretty, but she is memorable."

Wolf caught his breath sharply during Myr's comment and said a filthy word. "She would be much more conscious of that than we are, so if it occurred to us, then it occurred to her too. Knowing who she is would allow him to use her family as a lever against her. With that in mind, she would do her best to make herself unrecognizable. How long is it since she was taken?"

"Four days."

Finally the Wolf spoke again. "She's in one of the dungeons, obviously - otherwise she would have escaped. I think that it is probably the first place I looked - in the Archmage's Castle. When I searched the last few castles, I was thorough - I had gone too quickly at first. She doesn't have much time; the dungeon masters in his keeps are not renowned for their gentle treatment of the prisoners - to say nothing of the ae'Magi himself. She should be safe from him, though; he's got other concerns that are more important."