She closed the distance between them and placed a hand on his chest. “He was proud of you, you know.”
Gaven nodded, but he stared down at the wheel. “The memories of him that come most readily to my mind are the stern father, judging and distant and gruff. I don’t know why those are so much easier to remember than the kinder moments, the times he made it clear how much I meant to him. The way his eyes would shine when he talked about me, positively beaming with pride.” He looked up and found Rienne’s eyes. “That’s an expectation I suddenly find that I want to live up to.”
She held his gaze, then reached an arm behind his neck to pull his mouth down to hers.
The changeling was dreaming-he knew that much, but the knowledge did nothing to help him navigate the chaos. A jumble of identities, names and faces and personas, stumbling through one unlikely crisis after another. At last he stood in his true form in the awesome presence of a goddess.
“The Traveler,” he said. “Bless your ten thousand names.”
But the Traveler wore the face of his paladin acquaintance of recent months-a tall half-elf with short red hair and blue-gray eyes-and she glowed with an argent radiance like the Silver Flame of the Thranes.
“Who are you?” she asked him.
“Auftane Khunnam,” he said, and he was a dwarf, all black and brown and sturdy, strong.
“Who are you?” she asked again.
“Haunderk Lannath.” Human, sandy hair, scheming.
“Who are you?”
“Darraun Mennar.” Prying, planning, blond.
“Who are you?”
“Caura Fannam.” Poor Jenns. Compassion, care.
“Who are you?”
“Baunder Fronn.” Simple, stout, stupid.
“Who are you?”
“Vauren Hennalan.” Brave, honorable, prig.
“Who are you?”
“Natan Durbannek.” Another dwarf. A killer.
“Who are you?”
“Aurra Hennalan.” Mischievous elf.
“Who are you?”
There were so many, and the Traveler seemed unwilling to accept any answer he gave.
“Who are you?”
He awoke, sweating and shaking, panic racing through his veins. He was in a swaying bunk in a pitch-dark cabin, and he couldn’t remember where he was or-most importantly-who he was supposed to be. He put his hands to his face and felt his features: male, human, thirties. Aboard an airship. Who was with him? Kelas? No. Janik and Dania? No. Haldren? Closer, but no. Gaven, of course.
Real memories started taking shape in his mind, crowding out the confused memory of his dream. His most recent dwarf persona, Natan Durbannek. Helping to capture Gaven in Stormhome, and then helping him escape. Piloting the airship from one end of the island to the other, which made him tired just to remember it.
What in the world had he done? He had revealed himself to Gaven and Rienne, tripling the number of people in the world who knew that he was a changeling. And why? Had it been essential for his mission?
He tried to roll out of his bunk and ended up in a heap on the floor. He curled inward, clutching his head. What was his mission? What in the Traveler’s ten thousand names was he doing here?
“Make it solid,” he whispered. This was not like him at all-he had never in his thirty years questioned a mission or lost his grip on an identity. He struck his head against the floor and reverted to the training disciplines of his youth. “Who are you?” he said. “I am Au-Au… What the blazes is my name?”
“Darraun,” a woman’s voice said. He scrambled on the floor, turning himself to see the woman standing in the open hatch of the cabin, silhouetted in front of a night sky dimly lit by the Ring of Siberys. “Or that’s what Gaven calls you, anyway.”
“Rienne,” he said. He felt like a child just learning the names for everything in the world.
“That’s right. I’m Rienne.” Her voice sounded bemused, but her face was still in darkness. “Are you all right?”
“Am I…? No.” He started to get to his feet. “That is, I think so.” He reached out and grabbed another swaying bunk, trying in vain to steady himself.
“Do you need more sleep?” Rienne took a step farther into the room, and her features began to resolve in the darkness. “Do you want me to help you back into bed?”
“No! Not more sleep. No, thank you.” He managed to stand, and put a hand on her shoulder.
“Good, because Gaven wants to talk to you before we get much closer to Haldren’s camp.”
“Haldren’s camp? What in the Ten Seas does he think he’s doing?”
“You’ll have to ask him that.”
“All right,” the changeling said. Darraun, he thought. Darraun Mennar. “You go ahead. I’ll be there in a moment.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite sure.” Darraun Mennar. Darraun was polite, friendly. “Thank you.”
Rienne turned, halfway out of the cabin, and smiled back at him. “You’re welcome.” Then she was gone.
He buried his fingers in his hair, ran them down his face, wrapped himself in his arms, ran his hands down his legs. He knew this body-he’d worn it for months. He knew Darraun. He was ready. He started out the cabin door.
But Gaven and Rienne knew he was a changeling. He stopped dead. What would that mean? How would they treat him now? Did it matter if he acted like Darraun or not?
Best to appear familiar, reassure them that he was the same Darraun that Gaven knew. He took a deep breath, and wished that Darraun were a little braver. Vauren Hennalan could face dangerous and uncertain situations like this with ease. Darraun had been worried about finding himself lost in the Aerenal woods.
Shuddering at the memory of a city filled with the undying, Darraun climbed the stairs to the main deck.
“Have you seen Haldren’s camp?” Gaven demanded as soon as Darraun’s head came above the level of the deck.
To his credit, Darraun answered without hesitation. “Not the camp where he is now. His forces marched after I left.” As he spoke, he climbed the rest of the stairs and came to stand near the helm.
“Why did you leave?”
“Haldren discovered me spying on him.”
Gaven arched an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you got out.”
“That’s because you know more about Haldren’s capabilities than about mine. Haldren makes a show of his power. I do not.”
“Fair enough. I’ve always known there was more to you than you let on.”
Gaven remembered Cart interrupting their conversation in Whitecliff, insisting that he, too, was “quite complex.” He chuckled, and noticed Darraun doing the same. Their eyes met, and at the same time, they said, “Many-layered.” Then both men burst into laughter.
“Clearly, I missed something,” Rienne said, folding her arms and smiling.
“I’ll explain later,” Gaven said. “What can you tell me about Haldren’s movements since he left Paluur Draal?”
“He was quite distressed at your disappearance-or at Senya’s, really. He was convinced you had pulled her out of the circle to use as a hostage. From that point on, your knowledge of the Prophecy meant nothing to him. He would have tracked you down and killed you, or tried to, to get Senya back.”
“How touching,” Gaven said. “If only Senya shared his devotion.”
Darraun raised both eyebrows. “If only. So we met with Vaskar on the shore of Lake Brey, and Haldren gave him the Eye of Siberys.”
