Colwyn frowned down at her, his eyes telling him one thing, his ears another. But he'd already learned that where possible manifestations of the Beast were concerned, it was best to trust nothing, least of all one's own senses. He jumped away from her, his hand reaching toward the dagger at his belt, ready to cry out and alert his companions.
Yet still, sweet little Vella stood before him. Not even the inhuman claw she showed him changed that image, though his mind knew better.
'Yes,' she said tightly, 'he is my master. These talons were a heartbeat from your throat. I could have killed you in an instant.'
'Could have.' He did not draw the dagger, though his fingers hovered near the hilt. 'You're still crying. Are those tears manifestations of the Beast as well as that claw?'
She wiped at her eyes and her voice was confused and angry. 'They could be, but they are not. Nothing is as I was told it would be, nothing is as it seems. Uncertainty rules all. I long for the comfort of chaos.' She smiled at him and her expression was distorted and torn. Her face seemed to blur as he looked at her.
'I am his creature that he fashioned too well. To tempt you he had to make me human, and in making me human his hold strayed. Now I am neither human nor his. I am a cruel joke, a pitiful jest.' The smile broadened, giving her face a lopsided look. 'I have had an hour of life, an hour of love, and this is better than all the days I have spent as his creature. That love is life for you but death for me. The last joke is on him, and that is best of all. I cannot comfort you, Colwyn, nor you me, but neither will he be comforted. Remember me.'
In the Fortress Lyssa turned triumphantly to her jailer. 'It is you who are betrayed, by a thing of your own making. Power is fleeting. Love is eternal. You cannot even control your own creature. Do not think to control me.'
The Beast's only reaction was to wave a hand at the opening in the wall. The pulses of light from his body increased in frequency and intensity. The gap closed, shutting out the scene in the distant woods, but not before Lyssa had watched the unwoman Vella crumple and die. Poor thing, she thought. Neither human nor monster, but stuck somewhere pitifully in between. Better to die than live a pawn's life. She wondered if she'd have had the strength to make Vella's decision.
'Show me Colwyn again. Show me his reaction.' There was no response from the Beast. Could it be that his powers to bring distant scenes near was limited? It must be, else Colwyn would have no chance to approach undetected. His lack of response encouraged her.
Then she was backing away as the false Colwyn shuddered and expanded. The red eyes bulged and rose. Once more the Beast confronted her in its true form.
'You are ignorant in the ways of power, Lyssa of Eirig. There is power such as shattered the wall behind you, power such as that which initiated and ended the brief existence of that slave—and then there is the power to withhold the use of power.
'Consider then this power. If you consent to join with me and be my human queen, I will halt all the attacks of the Slayers. It is in your power to stop the killing and burning. Each hour you delay, more people will die. Think hard on what I offer you. No more fields sent up in smoke, no more villages destroyed, no more children trampled underfoot. Delay and a little more of Krull perishes. Consent and guess how many more will live. An interesting game, is it not? , 'Take all the time you wish. You cannot escape from here, nor can your lover save you, for he cannot even find this place. Relax and consider the number of deaths that can occur in an hour, in a day. You might even save his life, for at your consent I will call back all the Slayers.
'It is better, Lyssa, to exercise power than to abjure it. Better to be a god than a martyr. I leave you now to idle contemplation.' The red eyes turned away from her. She could not see a far door open, could not hear one close behind her captor, but she sensed that she was alone once again, sealed in the room that could be marriage chamber or tomb, according to her own wishes.
She made certain he was gone before she buried her face in her hands. Pressing her back against the wall, she slid slowly down until she was sitting on the cool floor. She sobbed softly and steadily.
Hurry, Colwyn, she thought. You've already proved him wrong once this day. Now hurry and do so again, my love, because this pain is too much for me to bear.
Colwyn regarded the stain on the earth that had only a few moments earlier been the beautiful young woman he'd held so tenderly in his arms. There was nothing left to indicate that she'd ever been.
He knelt to touch the ground. It was already turning cold.
You were wrong, Vella, he thought to himself. You didn't die an inhabitant of some nether region between humankind and Beast-thing. You died as a woman. I would have been proud to have been your lover.
Vella's final scream had awakened Torquil. As he arrived to confront Colwyn, his eyes took in the stain on the ground, the absence of the peasant girl. He looked questioningly at his leader.
'She was something of his,' Colwyn explained sadly, 'but only until the end. She died Vella, a young woman of Merith's village. I would have her remembered that way.'
Torquil's glance traveled down his friend's form. 'She didn't harm you?'
'Only in my heart, and I forgive her for that. She only did her master's bidding.' He raised his eyes to the trees towering overhead, half wishing that the Beast would appear before him in human form.
Torquil thought a moment. 'Another changeling, like the one that took the place of the emerald seer.'
'Yes, like the seer,' Colwyn agreed, 'only even more perfect, if such a thing is possible.'
'Such magic must take a great effort, even for one as powerful as the Beast. She seemed as human as Merith.'
'In some ways more human, I think.'
Torquil studied the woods as if at any moment they might produce still another lethal deception. 'He extends himself to produce something so perfect. I think maybe he's a little worried about you, Colwyn.'
'Why?' He gestured at the earth. 'Because I was able to survive this latest attack?'
'Because of that, yes. Believe it, Colwyn.'
'Difficult to imagine, but a good thing to think of. I'd like to believe he's worried about us, yes. With luck we'll do more than worry him.' He turned to glance back toward the mountain. 'I wonder at Ynyr's absence. He should be back by now.'
'How can we judge his needs? To penetrate the dangers of the web may require much time.'
'Ynyr has little time left to spend, and less strength.' He started toward the dark cliff that bulked sharply against the star-filled sky. 'I'm going after him.'
'He said that we were to wait here for his return.'
'He also said that he'd be back soon. It is past soon. Stay and explain to the others.'
'Is that the thanks I get for the help I've given you this far? I'm coming with you.'
Colwyn glanced back, grinning. 'I'd hoped you might.'
'What, did you think I'd let you go on alone?'
'It had occurred to me.'
'Well,' the bandit leader said sheepishly as he lengthened his stride, 'it had occurred to me too. Now we can forget about it.'
Colwyn nodded, increased his pace to match Torquil's.
At the base of one of the forest giants, Titch lay sound asleep in the fragrant grass. The puppy that snuggled tight against him lay on its back, all four legs in the air. Every so often its nose twitched, as though checking the air for unfamiliar smells even as it slept.
Across the dying campfire Rell leaned on his trident, his single eye half-closed. Sensing movement, he looked toward the mountain. Two men stood close together, whispering. Together they turned and started toward the distant slope.
Rell straightened, stretched, and yawned as he considered the peaceful camp. Wisps of smoke rose aimlessly from the coals left behind by the fire. Wheezes and grunts came from sprawled, somnolent figures. He was part of this troupe and yet he was not. He made his own decisions.
Holding the trident at the ready he tiptoed through the sleepers and followed silently in the wake of the two who had departed.
The path down the mountainside was fit only for sharp-eyed goats and the darkness made matters worse. Ynyr staggered downward, his tired old eyes intent on the trail and the rocks that hid in wait to trip him. He knew that he must not fall. If he went down he was certain he would not be able to rise again. His breath came in long,
