Kirisin looked down at his feet and scuffed at the porch floorboards. “Erisha and I have asked ourselves that question repeatedly. We still don’t have an answer. Not even Culph understands.”
“The King is not himself these days,” Simralin said quietly. “You said so yourself, Little K. Everyone sees that he has changed, and no one can explain the reason for it.”
“Well, we have to find a way to persuade him to do the right thing,” Kirisin insisted. “It doesn’t matter if he’s himself or not, he’s the King. Personal problems can’t be allowed to get in the way of a King’s duties. His foremost obligation is to protect his people and his city. He can’t do that if he lets anything happen to the Ellcrys.”
They were all silent for a moment, pondering the King’s behavior. Then Angel said, “There is another problem you need to know about.”
“Angel,” Ailie said in warning.
Angel nodded. “I know. We take a risk in telling anyone. But we need allies to find out who it is, Ailie.”
The tatterdemalion sat back against the side of the house, her presence wraithlike and fluid in the moonlight. She seemed more a child than either Kirisin or Angel, small and delicate and gauzy. “Tell them, then,” she said.
“There was a demon in the Council chambers tonight,” Angel said. She glanced from brother to sister and back again. “Ailie sensed its presence, even though I could not. The Elves have been compromised.”
Simralin leaned forward. “Are you sure, Ailie?”
The tatterdemalion nodded. “I am. Its stench was so strong that it permeated not only the Council chambers, but also the anteroom outside where we waited on the King.”
“Who is it?” Kirisin asked.
Ailie shook her head. “I cannot be sure. I would know if I were alone with it, but in a room full of people, I cannot separate it out. The demon wears a disguise. It is a changeling in the true sense, able to take on any appearance. Most demons possess changeling aspects, but only a few can actually transform completely. This is one.”
Again, they were silent for a moment. “Could it be the King?” Kirisin asked finally. “I know none of us wants to think it, but is it possible?”
Angel nodded. “It is. And that would be very bad. We need the King to help us if we are to succeed in our efforts to persuade the Elves to leave the Cintra.”
“But couldn’t it just as easily be Basselin?” Simralin offered. “You said he went out of his way to insist that the other ministers shouldn’t listen to anything any of you had to say. He called Kirisin a boy, and he said humans weren’t to be trusted. He was insistent about it. And as first minister, he has the King’s ear. A demon would be clever enough to persuade the King to do nothing.”
Kirisin shook his head stubbornly. “But it’s the King who has been acting strangely, who hasn’t seemed himself. If he were a demon, that would explain it. He’s been the strongest voice against doing anything. He tried to keep Erisha from talking, and then he tried to stop me, as well. He has done everything he can to keep us from getting involved in helping the Ellcrys. A demon would do that.”
“Perhaps.” Ailie’s frail form rippled against the wall, a liquid white ghost. “But above all, a demon would do whatever was necessary to hide its identity and shift suspicion to someone else. The King seems too obvious a choice.”
“Only to us,” said Kirisin. “Only because we know what we are looking for. No one else knows about a demon presence.” He shook his head. “Are you sure about the demon? Is it possible that you were mistaken? A demon living among us just doesn’t seem possible. How long would it have been here? Why would it have come in the first place?”
Angel rocked back in her chair. “A demon might not have come here originally for the purpose of destroying the Ellcrys. It might have come just to spy on the Elves. It could have killed whomever it changed itself into and taken that person’s place, then waited to see what damage it could do. It could have been living among you for years, maybe even decades. Demons are crafty and insidious. This one might be trying to destroy the Ellcrys, but it might have another, more complex plan, too.”
Another plan, Kirisin repeated silently. What other plan? What could a demon do that would be worse than destroying the Ellcrys and setting free the creatures imprisoned within the Forbidding? He couldn’t come up with anything, the prospect too frightening to bring into clear focus.
“What do we do?” he asked the others.
Simralin shifted forward from where she was sitting, her smooth features coming into the light. “Put Ailie alone with Arissen Belloruus first and then with Basselin to see if either is the demon.”
“That would be very dangerous,” Angel objected. “Even if I was there, she would be at risk. Demons are very powerful.”
“But Simralin is right,” Ailie said suddenly. “We have to know.”
“What I think we have to do is find those Elfstones,” Kirisin declared. “I kept thinking we would find them today. I still don’t know why we didn’t. I think we are missing something, but I don’t know what it is.”
No one said anything for a moment, then Simralin asked, “Who is it you are looking for again?”
“Pancea Rolt Cruer. She was Queen after her husband died, centuries ago. There are Cruers in Ashenell, but there is no marker for her.” Kirisin hesitated. “What are you thinking, Sim?”
His sister shrugged. “Well, you said she was a Cruer. But that was her married name. Maybe she wasn’t buried under her married name. What was her family name before she married?”
Kirisin blinked. “I don’t know. It never occurred to me. We could have been looking for her under the wrong name this whole time.” He straightened, excited. “I’ll tell Erisha tomorrow. She can ask Culph, and he can look for her birth name in the histories. Once we have that, we can search Ashenell again.”
“I don’t think you should go back there alone,” Angel said quickly. “Ailie isn’t mistaken about the demon. It’s there, among the Elves, and now it knows about you. If it finds out what you are doing, it won’t be safe for you or anyone who tries to help you. If you go back, I should go with you.”
She stood abruptly, walked over to where he sat, and knelt beside him. “Kirisin. Listen carefully to me. You are in great danger. The demons are ruthless, and they will kill a boy like you without thinking twice. Madre de Dios. Tell me. Have the Elves really lost all their magic? Do you have none of it left? Not even you, who are a Chosen of the Ellcrys? You have no way to protect yourself? No magic to call upon?”
“It was all lost centuries ago,” Kirisin answered. “The Elves have the ability to hide and not be found. We have healing skills. We have the means to care for the land and the things that live and grow on her, but not much else.” He shook his head. “I wish we did.”
Simralin rose and touched Angel on the shoulder. “We can’t do anything more tonight. I have to take you back before someone finds that you are missing. We don’t want to have them thinking you are doing anything but awaiting the King’s pleasure.”
They clustered together on the porch for a moment in the pale moonlight, and the Elves and the Knight clasped hands.
“I’m glad you’ve come,” Kirisin said impulsively.
Angel’s face was dark with misgiving. “Just be careful, Kirisin. Step lightly.”
THE WOLFISH BEAST that had been Delloreen and was now something almost wholly different slouched along the fringes of the Elven city, following the scent of the prey it sought. It no longer cared whom it hunted or even why. It barely remembered its purpose in doing so. All that mattered to it now was satisfying its need. All that mattered was finding and destroying the thing it hunted.
It had tracked her all the way here, a long and arduous hunt during which it had lost the scent any number of times. But it had persevered, searching and searching some more until the scent was recovered and the tracking begun anew. It had eaten and drunk what it could find along the way so as not to lose its strength, but had not slept. Slee
p was a luxury for which it had no use. Nothing could be allowed to slow it down.
Now it was arrived at this city, this habitat of creatures it instinctively knew to be prey. It could kill them all at its leisure; they would provide it with days and weeks and even months of enjoyment. But first it must find the one it had hunted for so long, the one it must kill before it could rest easy. There was no reasoning involved in its assessment; it was acting on instinct and hunger. It was acting on a mix of feral and demon needs.
It was closing on its prey, the scent growing fresher, and then suddenly it encountered a new and different scent, one that was both unexpected and immediately recognizable. The scent was of another demon, another of its own kind. That it should surface here, in this place so deep in the wilderness and far removed from the human population, surprised it. Thrilled by its discovery and anxious to learn why another demon would be here, it began to track this new scent. It could not explain its lure, but neither could it resist. Forgotten momentarily was its need to hunt the prey it had tracked with such single-minded diligence. All that mattered now was this new obsession.
It padded through the trees, another of night’s shadows, staying off the paths and trails, keeping clear of the creatures that lived there. It must not draw attention to itself, it knew. Secrecy was necessary. Even fighting through the fog of its diminished reasoning, it knew that much. Hunting was mostly reactive; your instincts told you what was needed.
It was approaching a house, one that was set well back into the woods, half buried in the forest earth, when it became aware of the other demon. The newcomer approached unhurriedly, not bothering to hide its presence, its footfalls confident and determined. Delloreen stopped and waited, dark muzzle lifted to catch the other’s scent.
“My, my, aren’t you a beautiful thing,” a voice soothed, a disembodied presence in the darkness.
The demon stepped into the light and gazed with passionate interest into Delloreen’s yellow eyes, a smile lighting its face. Its hands clasped in unmistakable joy. “I have seen so few others in my time here,” it whispered. “But you—you are beyond my most ardent expectations! Look at you, pretty thing! Such grace and power!” The voice trailed off. “What’s this? You have shape-changed recently, haven’t you? There are still traces of your human form, bits and pieces showing through the new skin you wear so well. But only traces, and not much of those. Your human self is almost gone, dispatched for the weakness and the burden it is. Yes. Better to be what you are than what I am, trapped in something so loathsome.”
Delloreen would have purred had she been able, but settled for a contented growl. This other demon had awakened something in her, a need she had not even known was there, a longing. It was why she had sought it out, she realized. This demon was a missing part of her; finding it made her feel unexplainably complete.
“Sweet thing,” it whispered to her and held out its hand.
She surprised herself by nuzzling it. She surprised herself further by finding pleasure in its touch.
“Where have you come from?” The hand withdrew, not presuming to linger, leaving Delloreen unexpectedly bereft. “You track the Knight of the Word and the tatterdemalion, don’t you? What did they do that would cause you to hunt them so assiduously? You have come a long way. I can tell. You have chased them. Have you done battle with the Knight?”
Delloreen whined, a low, rough sound.
“Oh, more than once, it seems. Before you were what you are now, and not so magnificent. Your change is too recent for it to be more than a few days old. But now you are so much more powerful than you were, and when you find the Knight of the Word this time…”
The voice trailed off, the intended finish unmistakable. Delloreen could picture it in her mind, could see the rending of her prey’s flesh, could feel it tearing in her jaws. She could hear the sound of breaking bones and horrified screams.
“But for now,” said the other, breaking into her thoughts, “you must come with me. If you are seen, they will hunt you down and destroy you. They could not do so separately, but in force they are too many. I should know. I have been hiding for years—a recognizable presence among them, yet so much more than they know—and I have learned to be careful.”
The demon put its hand on the top of her head, a soft and gentle touch that lingered and was gone too quickly. “We will hide and wait for the right time. It will not be long, pretty one. The Knight of the Word and her Faerie companion present a danger that we must eliminate. My plans for the Elves and their precious tree and all the rest that they think so important are falling into place as I intended they should. Those who would expose us will be our unwitting accomplices. We will see the end of them all before another cycle of the moon.”
Delloreen growled softly, indicating her pleasure and her wishes. “Yes, you may kill the Knight. You may kill them all when I am done with them. The killing belongs to you; it is your province and your right. Their lives are yours to take. But not now. Not yet. We must let them fulfill their uses first.”
The night breezes blew across Delloreen’s scaly hide, and she felt herself ripple in response. She could be patient for this one. She was a hunter, and all hunters understood patience. If this one asked for hers, she would give it.
She could not understand the lure this demon held for her, could not grasp why it made her feel so anxious to do what was asked. There was power here that she could not fathom. It transcended that wielded by the old man she had left behind, the one whose name she no longer remembered and whose face had become an unrecognizable blur. Physical power was hers to employ, but this other power held a strange allure. She longed to be in its presence, to bask in its glow.
“Come now,” the other demon whispered. “We will sleep. You have come far, and you are tired. Rest will make you even stronger, even more formidable. I have a place where you will be safe, where we can be together.” It touched her again, more boldly this time. “I have much to share with you, pretty thing. I have waited for you a long time.”
Delloreen could not understand what it meant, but she was sufficiently seduced that she didn’t care. This was one of her own, a demon spawn, a creature of the Void.
She went willingly.
ELEVEN
“I DON’T CARE HOW RISKY you thought it was, you should have come back and gotten me!” Erisha snapped angrily, her face so close to his own that he could feel the heat of her breath on his face. “How many times do I have to say it?”
They were kneeling together in the gardens, working on a border of caerwort, a ground cover of pale green leaves and bright pink flowers that fought back against invasive weeds and was highly resistant to insect pests. Large stretches of it formed a protective perimeter around the Ellcrys, but needed cleaning out and replacing on a regular basis.
Kirisin nodded in resignation. They had been going over this same ground all morning. “I’ve said I was sorry. I meant it. I just thought it would be better to wait until today. There wasn’t anything more to be done last night.”
“You were thinking about yourself!”
He gave her a long, searching look. “You know better.”
She was quiet for a moment, then sighed heavily. “You’re right. I do. I’m snapping at you for no good reason. It was smarter to wait. I just hate being left out of things.”
He understood that. He hated being left out as much as she did, and it happened more than he liked to think, mostly because he didn’t encourage inclusion by his standoffish attitude. He wished he was better at being a part of things, but it didn’t come naturally to him. He had always gone his own way, and by doing so he deliberately set himself apart from other Elves.
“When do you think we will hear something from Culph?” he asked, changing the subject.
She shrugged. “He wasn’t sure when he would get a chance to look at the genealogy tables. He has to do it when my father isn’t around. My father has him looking for something more on the Elfstones, and he can’t afford to
be caught doing anything else.” She paused, looking at him hopefully. “Maybe my father has changed his mind about things, Kirisin. I mean, if he has Culph searching for information about the Elfstones, maybe he has decided to help us.”
Kirisin wasn’t convinced, but he nodded anyway. “Maybe.”
“Anyway, there isn’t anything we can do now but wait until Culph finds what we’re looking for.”
She had gone to find the old man early this morning, soon after meeting with Kirisin at sunrise and learning the details of what had transpired after she had gone to bed. Leaving with the other Chosen to work in the gardens following the morning greeting, she had disappeared, returning a short time later to whisper that she had spoken with Culph and he would see what he could find out about Pancea Rolt Cruer’s maiden name.
Kirisin went back to digging in the caerwort, unearthing the dead vines and scraping off insect bodies and blight from the good ones. He worked smoothly and easily, the effort neither tedious nor difficult for him. He thought momentarily about how gifted he had always been with plants of all sorts, of how natural he found caring and nurturing them. It was an Elven trait, but in his case something more. He seemed to know exactly what was needed and how to do it. It was almost as if he could understand what the plant was feeling, could come so close to communicating without using language.
Was that a remnant of the old magic? Had he inherited just a little of what had been lost to the Elves over the centuries? He liked the idea that he carried inside something of the past that had once been so important and was now little more than myth. He had wondered before if his skills were a residual effect of Faerie. After Angel had pressed him so hard last night about not having even a little of it as one of the Chosen, he was wondering anew if perhaps he might.
The sun was bright this day, the air warm and filled with the smells of flowers and conifers, and all of it felt like it was trying to reassure him of the permanence of his life and home. But he knew it was misleading and unreliable, a trick of the senses that could be swept away in a moment if the course of things was not altered soon.