Shadowlands Read online

  “So how does the Hunt/prey thing work,” I said, seesawing the fork in my hand. “I mean, since you guys can Move, doesn’t that make you really hard to hunt?”

  “Only Riders can Move, though the other People travel each in their own peculiar way.” Alejandro put down his fork, and topped up first my glass and then his. “What is known about how the Hunt travels is limited. We know that they cannot track a Natural at all; flowing water is a good barrier to stop them from tracking you—or even from seeing you, at times. The Hunt can follow a Rider through a Move, however, even through a crossroads, but only if they are practically on your heels. One thing is certain. They cannot use a Portal unless they have a Rider with them, but that is also true of Solitaries or Naturals.”

  I took a sip of my wine and watched him. His gaze was turned inward as he thought.

  “The Songs of the People also say that when a Hound is on scent, it will not turn from it, perhaps cannot. That is how I know that this morning’s Hound was not sent to track you, in particular. Had it been, it would not have stopped to deal with me.” He tossed back the last mouthful of his wine and stood, picking up his plate.

  “But where do they come from?” Leaving my wineglass still half full on the table, I used the pass-through to hand him my own dishes.

  Alejandro executed that full body shrug common to many Europeans. “Some have wondered if the Hunt are in some fashion related to our Cloud Horses. They are the only other animals in the Lands that can pass through a Move with a Rider.” Alejandro took my plate from me, scraping off the garlic potatoes and the chicken bones into the compost bucket before sliding the plate into the dishwasher. He indicated the bottle of wine, and I refilled his glass.

  Alejandro took a long sip before setting his glass aside and looking me in the eye. “And so, is there nothing more you can tell me about this Stormwolf?” His voice calmer, his question now seemed quite reasonable.

  I concentrated, trying to re-create the images and feelings I had when Stormwolf had held me in his arms, his hand over my mouth, his breath in my ear. There had been so many. It had taken me months to be able to touch Alejandro without being overwhelmed, and Wolf was somehow so much…well, fresher was the only word that came to mind. I shivered. “He’s undergone some kind of change recently,” I said, my eyes closed. My mental image of him was coming clearer as I thought about it. “Some kind of enlightenment, or—” I grasped Alejandro’s wrist. “He’s here,” I whispered.

  Alejandro raised his eyebrows and pointed to the front door. I shook my head. “In the alley.”

  Alejandro made a motion like pulling his two fists apart. I knew he didn’t need his sword cane, but I also knew that he would feel calmer, more in control, if he had it with him. I motioned into the sunroom. “Leaning against the table,” I said.

  He waved me to keep back, but of course I followed him. After all, if Alejandro thought the smart thing to do was Move, the safest place for me to be was within reach. I didn’t want to, I knew beyond doubt that Wolf was no danger to us, but if Alejandro wanted to go, I knew I had to go with him. He had one hand on his sword cane and the other on the doorknob when I stopped him again, putting my hand around his upper arm.

  “Let’s not have a repeat of the scene at the hotel,” I said quietly. “Nighthawk did send him, remember. He’s been truthful with us.” Which was more, I thought, than I had been, but I pushed that thought away to where not even I could see it

  “The same Nighthawk who does not answer his phone.” But Alejandro’s voice remained calm.

  I shook my head, and stepped past him out to the deck. It was a measure of how much he had taken to heart my earlier anger that he let me.

  “Come in,” I called out. “The gate’s unlocked. You can pull the latch from the outside.”

  At first I thought he wasn’t going to, but then the shadow under the trees shifted, and a pale hand came through the opening in the gate and lifted the latch. The gate swung open and Stormwolf stepped through.

  It was me he looked at, as if Alejandro wasn’t even there, and his eyes were like ashes that still had coals beneath them.

  “I am pleased to see you are safe,” he said. “I thought you may have been frightened.”

  By him, he meant. He was used to people being frightened of him, and almost couldn’t believe it when they weren’t.

  “I know we can trust you,” I said. He raised his eyebrows just a little, but I think I saw him relax.

  Alejandro was going to make Stormwolf sit outside on our tiny deck, but I’m happy to say common sense prevailed. It was getting to be the time that people were coming home from work, and I could imagine the kind of questions we’d get from either Barb and Jim on the one side, or Shari and Steven on the other, if they overheard us. Both sets of neighbors were pretty worldly, but it was the otherworldly nature of our discussion we needed to hide.

  I held the door open and Wolf was past me in an instant—so fast that if I hadn’t already seen Alejandro’s speed, I would have thought Wolf had teleported directly from our patio into the sunroom. The two Riders bristled, giving each other the unmistakable look that said, “I am armed.”

  I pulled out a chair for our guest at the marble-topped table, tacitly acknowledging Alejandro’s desire to keep him from penetrating deeper into our home. I did the best I could to put my own irritation to one side. Somehow, now that he was here, the fact of Wolf’s past became more than just something I knew that Alejandro didn’t. It became something I was keeping secret, and now that I had secrets of my own, I was beginning to see how things could be more complicated than whether the person I trusted most also trusted me—or more accurately, my ability.

  I could also tell that there was more than one kind of tension between the two Riders. Part was what I’d expected, the issues that came of their being different Wards—pack issues wouldn’t be putting it too strongly. Riders usually Rode in groups, and those groups were almost always made up of Riders of the same Ward—and that actually explained the rest of the tension. They also have an instinctive prejudice against and distrust of that rarity among Riders, the loner.

  No, neither of them saw the irony in that.

  And let’s not forget that Stormwolf really was hiding something, even if it was only something he feared about himself, rather than something we needed to fear.

  Alejandro passed into the kitchen, and through to the inner part of the house. The phone, I thought. This time he’s going to try Hawk on the landline.

  I smiled at his retreating back. At least he trusted my judgment enough to leave me alone with our guest. That gave me an idea. I went to the fridge, and got out two beers, giving one to Stormwolf, and going into the front room to hand the other to Alejandro. There was also a jug of sangria in the fridge and I poured myself a glass. Beer was still a taste I hadn’t acquired.

  “What do you call yourself here?” I said, when it seemed Alejandro was going to be a while. I was trying to give as normal a look to things as I could. Stormwolf was uncomfortable, edgy, and part of that had to do with me. He could place Alejandro—he was here to find him, after all—but he couldn’t see what our relationship was, and it didn’t seem to be part of their etiquette to ask.

  “Edmond Wolfe,” was the answer.

  I nodded and sipped my drink. Of course it made sense to use a name that was at least partly his own. Even if he didn’t pick it out for himself.

  I smiled, but he was focused on the beer bottle’s label, tracing the letters with the tip of his finger. [He can’t read!]

  “It says Alexander Keith’s,” I said, pointing toward the words but carefully not touching either the bottle or Wolf. “That’s the name of the man who started the company. And ‘India Pale Ale,’ that’s the type of beer it is.”

  He nodded without looking at me.

  I raised my own glass to my lips, straining for the sound of Alejandro’s voice, and trying to determine what it was I was feeling. Was I agitated, or was I only picking up a
vibe from “Edmond Wolfe”? In many ways I was still learning to pay close attention to my own reactions, making sure they were my own, and not just borrowed from the people I was reading.

  Wolf was even more ambivalent than I had guessed. Outwardly, he seemed calm and at ease. He was leaning back in his chair, his face smooth, his gaze steady. Inside, it was as if he was sitting on the edge of his seat, and shifting his eyes to the exits. It was more than just the underlying awareness of a Rider’s physical place in the universe that I was familiar with from Alejandro.

  And that’s when it hit me. I was used to feeling and reading certain things in Alejandro—or maybe I should say Graycloud at Moonrise—and here I was reading the same things from someone else. I’d never met another Rider before, let alone someone who hadn’t spent more time in this world than any human now living. Compared to Alejandro there was a wildness to Wolf, as if he was a wolf in fact. This didn’t make Alejandro any less fierce or deadly, it just made his aspect…tamer somehow.

  This world was not Wolf’s natural habitat, no matter how at home he looked in his Italian suit and Spanish shoes. I wondered if this was what the Europeans had felt when they encountered the natives of the Americas. Or maybe it was what the natives had felt.

  Wolf’s gray eyes were looking back at me now, and I automatically steadied myself, thanking my long training for helping me to keep my face impassive, even if I couldn’t stop myself from blushing.

  “Valory.” The warning in Alejandro’s voice as he came up behind me was clear. He wanted me to step away, to remove myself from Wolf’s reach. I almost smiled. As if either of them couldn’t grab me from the other end of the house before I could stop them.

  “I have telephoned to Nighthawk,” Alejandro said, pointedly addressing Wolf. “There is no answer, either at his home, or his mobile. His ama de llaves has not seen him in some days.”

  Wolf appeared unfazed. “He said he was going to the Lands, to see the High Prince.”

  “He did say that,” I said.

  “And did he go?”

  I shrugged. “That’s more than I can [yes]—Yes. Yes, he did go.”

  Alejandro turned back to our guest. “Why did Hawk not call me with the news you bring?”

  “Because it is mine to give,” Wolf said.

  “Wolf didn’t hurt him,” I put in. “On the contrary, Hawk was very happy to hear about the new Cycle, and told Wolf about Shower of Stars and Mountain Crag.”

  Alejandro’s lips pressed together. “Do you bring anything, some talisman from either Nighthawk or the High Prince, to show that you speak for her?”

  “Alejandro.” I let the tightness in my voice show him how close to the edge I was. He believed me, I know that he did. This was just some kind of macho posturing. What a waste of time. “I’ve already told you he’s speaking the truth. We can trust him.”

  “It is what I should have asked him at the hotel,” Alejandro said. Well, I couldn’t argue with that. “You are not a lie detector, nor should I use you as one.”

  My chest felt tight, and I had to blink. He didn’t want to use me. Now, if he’d only said that in the first place, we could have saved a lot of upset and arguing.

  “It is a reasonable request.” Wolf undid the buttons of his shirt and pulled it open.

  I heard Alejandro’s indrawn breath as I took an involuntary step forward, drawn by the shimmering colors on the almond skin of Wolf’s chest. Dark ruby red, the liquid silver of mercury, a black as dark as Wolf’s own hair. I hadn’t seen a lot of tattoos in my life, but even I could tell this dragon was something no human hand could have created.

  Without hesitation, I reached out and placed the tips of my index and middle fingers where the dragon’s heart would be—and gasped as I felt it beating, laughed aloud when I realized that of course it was Wolf’s heart I felt. I had the context, and the images I read were as clear and bright as the tattoo itself.

  “It’s not a tattoo,” I said. “It’s like gra’if. Made by a Gorgon for—no, from Truthsheart.” I looked around at Alejandro. “The High Prince. From her blood, and tears, and breath.”

  I lifted my fingers from his skin, and looked into Wolf’s bottomless gray eyes. “She smells of saffron,” I said.

  “She does,” he agreed.

  Alejandro cleared his throat, and, very slowly, I turned to look his way. He took a swallow of his beer, nodding as he lowered the bottle. Then he made that complicated motion of the upper body and shoulders that is the Spanish shrug. “What can you tell me of the Hunt?”

  Wolf blinked. Obviously not what he was expecting. “Why are you curious?”

  “I have pledged to help the humans against them. What do you know of them? How is it that the human Outsiders thought you a Hound?”

  Wolf had started to say that he knew nothing of the Hunt, but at Alejandro’s final question he caught himself, glancing at me.

  “How was it that I could be mistaken for a Hound?” Wolf was pretending he didn’t understand the question, but he was thinking, What is showing? What is giving me away?

  “I saw a Rider this morning, following…” Alejandro hesitated and then inclined his head toward me, unwilling to say my name aloud. “It was only as it passed me outside that it wore the shape of a dog, and only when I challenged it did it begin to change.”

  Wolf’s face shut down, as though he’d suddenly thought of something he wanted desperately to keep to himself. He shook his head. “There was no sign or track of Riders there, other than your own, and that of…” Now it was time for Wolf to nod toward me, not wanting to use my name when Alejandro hadn’t. “But you,” he continued, turning back to Alejandro. “You have the smell of this Hound on you now.”

  I drew myself up. That was why Alejandro had felt strange to me when he’d touched me earlier, as if he had two selves. But why hadn’t I read it as an injury?

  “A scratch, it did not bite me, I assure you.”

  Wolf shook his head, his eyes never leaving Alejandro’s face. “The scratch will not heal.”

  “Alejandro, let me…” I gestured toward his leg.

  “Querida, you can do nothing that I have not already done. I have had much worse than this in the bullring.”

  “No, that’s not it.” I had an idea, and I needed to see where it would take me. “I wonder, if I touch it, could I get anything from it?” Now they both looked at me. Finally, his forehead still furrowed above his red-gold brows, Alejandro rolled up his pant leg, exposing a bandage wrapped around the meaty part of his calf. The blood seeping through the layers of wrapping was fresh. I loosened the clips, and unwrapped the bandage as quickly as I could. I had to admit the wound didn’t look all that bad. It was deepish, for a scratch, but even I had seen worse. Still, it should have stopped bleeding by now. I laid my hand along the wound.

  [An animal; wings won’t open; body distorted, the sickness, the constant, uncontrollable hunger; flicker, twitch, tic; moments of peace, moments of control; fear of the Pack Leader; fear of the bright gra’if blade –]

  “Valory.” It was Wolf’s voice, Wolf’s hand on my shoulder, pulling me back from Alejandro. He had my glass in his hand. I hadn’t realized I’d dropped it. He must have caught it before it hit the floor.

  “It was the same person,” I said. “The one you saw, the Rider? The Hound? The same person.” I pointed to his wound. “He’s still there, somehow.” I looked at Alejandro. “You saw him, just before he Faded away, you saw the Rider.”

  Alejandro did not look up from rewrapping his wound. “I saw a Rider,” he admitted. “I could not be sure.” He pulled down the leg of his trousers so the wound was covered once more, and looked up at Wolf. “How can this be?”

  The other Rider shook his head. “I do not know,” he said finally. “The Hunt were brought here by the Riders of the Basilisk Prince, to search for the Exile.” His eyes flicked from me to Alejandro and back again. “Until Hawk and I killed one in Spain,” he said, “I was not even sure they had not all
returned.”

  Alejandro glanced at me and I nodded. That had been the recent killing I’d read on Wolf earlier.

  “Was it difficult?”

  Again a look flashed over his face. Alejandro would see horror, and attribute it to the encounter, but I knew suddenly that Wolf had recognized the Hound that he’d killed. Had thought how easily it could have been him. I couldn’t say anything to comfort him, no gesture, without revealing too much to Alejandro.

  This lying thing was more difficult than I’d thought.

  “I have gra’if,” Wolf finally said. “And there were two of us.”

  Again, Alejandro and Wolf looked steadily at one another.

  “What can we do?” I said to Alejandro. “How do we fix your leg?”

  “He must go to the High Prince. Only a Healer of the People can medicine a wound of the Hunt.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “You know it is so. A Hound’s bite will not heal.”

  “But this is only a scratch, the beast did not bite me.”

  “You can’t chance it, Alejandro,” I said.

  “And you can bear news of this new Hunt, these new Hounds, to the High Prince.”

  “Should that not be your job.” But I could tell Alejandro was wavering.

  Wolf shook his head. “I have my task already, and I cannot turn from it. The High Prince gave me your name, having known of you, during her time here as Warden. And those I have spoken with confirm that you are the one who will point me further along my way. That is why I came to you, why I am here, now.”

  I felt an unreasonable pang, but it was only momentary. Maybe Alejandro wasn’t the only person Wolf had come to see. Even as he spoke, he was looking at me. But what he’d said had made sense to Alejandro. He was, after all, the oldest resident, and over the centuries, had met most if not all of the expatriates of the Lands.

  “Have you seen maps,” he asked Wolf now. “Do you know how to use them?”