He said nothing, and it was nearly a lie, that silence. He had seen Elaine's face, felt her pull away from his arms. If she could read their thoughts, thoughts they could not control. . But he said nothing. He didn't want to fight with Tereza tonight. He needed her arms around him too much to risk it.
"Elaine asked if the elven healer could heal Calum."
Tereza grew very still against him. He knew she was rolling the thought round in her mind. "Could he truly save Calum?"
"He called the dead back, Tereza. I would believe him capable of anything."
She slid to her knees, arms still around him. "If he could save Calum … we must send him to Calum at once."
"He lost an arm today, a grave wound. Do you think he is well enough to travel days back in the cold by himself, with just his own people?"
"We would go with him."
"Calum gave us this task to perform. If the elf, Sil-vanus, cannot heal him, Cortton will be the last evil we ever fight at Calum's bidding. I cannot fail him now."
"But if he can truly be cured?"
"We can tell Silvanus tomorrow about Calum's illness. He may not be able to cure a disease, especially a disease of old age."
"My mother was years older than Calum, and she died quietly in her sleep. Old age does not have to end in such misery."
He patted her hand. "Good to hear."
She smiled suddenly. "You are not old."
"I am no longer young."
She hugged him tight. "That is not the same as being old."
He didn't argue; he didn't want to. Watching Calum's strong body being eaten away by pain and age had made Jonathan aware of his own mortality in a way that no battle ever had.
"We'll talk to Elaine tomorrow," Tereza said.
He nodded. "Yes, tomorrow."
Tomorrow they would talk with Elaine. Tomorrow they would speak with the healer. Tomorrow, perhaps, Silvanus would tell them he could save Calum Songmaster. But even after what Jonathan had seen this day, he did not truly believe. It was as unreal as a dream. He mistrusted anything that promised to give him his heart's desire. Healing was still a form of magic. Magic often promised exactly what a person most wanted, then found a way to cheat him. He feared he might have his heart's desire as long as he didn't mind fiends feasting on his heart.
"Let's go to bed." Tereza helped him stand. His knees were stiff from sitting so long in the cold, even with the fire so near. A few years ago the cold had not made his bones ache.
She kissed him gently on the cheek, as if she, too, could read his gloomy thoughts. "It will all look better in the morning, Husband. I promise."
He smiled and let her know he believed her. It was a lie. A lie that he told with his eyes. Perhaps if he practiced enough, he could fool Elaine as well. This reading his thoughts was harder. Perhaps the wizard would have a cure for that.
Could he really let a wizard, any wizard, work a spell on him? He did not think so. But he hoped so. For Elaine's sake, he hoped so.
«^»
SIXTEEN
Harkon Lukas watched the campsite. He stood wrapped in a wine-dark cloak. A matching hat swept round his head, a hat more suited for a ball than winter travel. White ostrich feathers fluttered on it, and the wind tugged at the feathers as if trying to steal them. His long hair blew in tangles across his face. He should have been noticeable standing among the winter-dark trees in his ridiculous hat.
Harkon had watched the camp since Konrad had stood watch. Neither Konrad nor Tereza had seen the tall figure moving in the darkness. Now Thordin stood watch, and somehow he didn't see Harkon either. It was good to rule the land. It gave a person certain. . abilities.
Harkon might even have loved his land of Kar-takass were he not trapped here. The country was too small to satisfy his ambitions and appetites. He could trap others inside the borders, but could not free himself. The irony was not lost on him.
He sniffed the cold, tugging wind. He smelled. . goodness. Not one, but a handful of shining goody-two-shoes lay in one of the tents. New blood come to the land. He had not brought these people over. Sometimes the land itself plucked away someone from another place. There seemed no logic to the land's choices, or none that he could understand.
Harkon ran fingers under his cloak, over a small bump in his tunic. It was a magic amulet, an amulet that allowed the wearer to switch bodies, whether the other person wished it or not. He had seen it used once, had killed the owner of the amulet, and kept it, until he found the right use for it.
He had been forced to flee from Konrad Burn. The warrior was a superb fighter, and Harkon had feared he might be forced to harm the man in order to save himself. It wouldn't have done to damage the very body he planned to inhabit. So he had fled, leaving his dire wolves to be slaughtered.
A growl started low in his chest, climbing up his throat to spill in a snarl from his lips. The sound should have had fur around it and fangs. If anyone had been near enough to hear and see, they would have known him for what he was: a wolfwere. Harkon had never been human, but once he held Konrad Burn's body, would he be human? Would he lose his ability to shapechange?
He did not know. So much was unknown, but the gamble was worth it. If he could be free to travel all the lands, his power would know no bounds.
He stood contemplating his future conquests. It brought a smile to his handsome face. Killing usually did.
Konrad Burn was part Vistani. He didn't look it, but he was, and he could travel to any land because of it. Jonathan Ambrose's mother had been a gypsy, too, so he was also free to travel. But Ambrose was too old. If Harkon really did become human, he wanted as many years left to him as possible.
He had thought about taking his choice of gypsies, but something had protected them, as if the land itself kept them safe. Harkon did not understand why, but he knew that to harm them was to risk much. Kartakass was his, yet there were some things the land would not allow. Harming gypsies was one of them.
Why had the land brought in these new people? They stank of goodness. The smell of it attracted evil. Harkon himself had been drawn to them. They had come so conveniently near to him and his wolves. Harkon wanted to feast on pure flesh, to crack the bones of saintly men and suck the marrow from them. There was nothing like fresh marrow to warm a wolf-were on a cold winter's day. Then it had all gone wrong. Had the land planned it that way? He was never sure how conscious of its own actions the land was.
They had killed the two that shone the brightest, extinguished that goodness forever. He had been far away in the forest when he felt what the cleric had done. It had felt like a great stabbing whiteness in his head. Even behind closed eyelids he could see the light. It had called to every evil thing in the land. If Harkon had not forbidden it, the creatures of Kartakass would have descended on the party like a plague. They wouldn't have survived a mile. But his future body was traveling with these interlopers. Harkon would not risk any harm coming to Konrad Burn until he himself brought it.
The wolfwere watched through the night, for he did not trust every evil thing that crawled or flew in Kartakass, not with so much shining goodness blazing forth. It was a candle flame to a moth, irresistible though it burned away the wings that bore the creature to it.
Harkon had made it plain he would punish anyone who harmed them, but there were things in the land that would care more for the killing than the punishment afterward. Harkon sympathized, and once he had the body, the land could slaughter every man and woman among them.
But for now, Harkon Lukas stood knee-deep in snow-cold, irritable, and watching over them all. The bard of Kartakass guarded the sleep of Jonathan Ambrose, mage-finder.
Harkon, who enjoyed irony when it was at someone else's expense, chuckled in the winter's dark. Perhaps he would tell the mage-finder what had kept him safe in his travels, tell him, watch his face crumble in disbelief, then kill him. A low, growl trickled from his lips. Yes, that sounded like fun. A poor wolf-were was entitled to a little fun in the middle of a larger plot. A little frivolous cruelty always made him feel better.
«^»
SEVENTEEN
The next morning, the sky was an unrelieved white that promised snow. Beneath that sky came Elaine's horse, wandering back into camp without the slightest hint of apology for nearly breaking the girl's back. There was a gleam in its eyes that said it would be happy to give it another try. Elaine had hoped it had been eaten by wolves.
Thordin spooned stew into thick pockets of bread that he had made to hold the stew. It was an invention of his from his homeland. He called them "kangaroo sandwiches." A much younger Elaine had asked what a kangaroo was, and his description had been so funny, she hadn't believed him. Carrying its young around in a pouch, indeed. It was a tale to enthrall travelers who could never check one's story. But she, like all the others, dutifully called them kangaroo sandwiches.
Elaine sat on a log by the fire, Blaine beside her. He was on his second sandwich. Silvanus and Averil sat across the fire, eyeing the morning fare.
"How are you this morning?" Elaine asked.
"I feel quite myself again." Silvanus gave her a small nod.