Her father, protesting that she was his bloody daughter and this was his bloody house, had invited himself. Kett, who knew full well it was really Nuala’s house, had let him. She’d have preferred to have Jarven present, if only to up the quota of People Who Weren’t Bael, but while her friend was conscious he was still very weak, and even if Nuala had let him out of bed, Kett didn’t want to risk it. Angie had come instead, wrapped in thick socks and a sweater, looking pale and tired. She’d gone white with shock on seeing her first kelf when Lya entered, but adjusted to her presence much more quickly than Kett had expected.
Striker had put in a not wholly unexpected appearance, being his usual unhelpful self. She could tell his presence made Bael uncomfortable, and was perversely glad.
“I’d swear it on my own life,” Bael said. His eyes met hers but she quickly looked away.
“Your life don’t mean much right here, right now,” Kett said. “Are any of those men still alive?”
He shook his head. “Var took care of them,” he said, and Angie’s knuckles went white. “But there are more of them. I had about twenty knights and probably a hundred more men who could be called to arms, and that’s just at the Vyiskagrad house.”
“How many houses do you have?” asked Chance.
“About a dozen. One less than this time last year,” he said with a tight smile. “Not all of them are so well staffed, but if Albhar wanted, he could probably pull together…maybe a hundred knights, and five times as many indentured men.”
“Why do you need so many armed men?” Tyrnan asked. His expression was hostile, and had been ever since Kett had announced to them that Bael’s men had been the ones to attack Jarven’s ranch.
A stab of guilt plagued her. She probably shouldn’t have said it with such certainty, but she was so hurt, so angry and so upset she couldn’t think straight.
“Man’s got to defend what’s his,” Bael said, his eyes on Kett. She could feel his gaze, even if she wasn’t looking at him. “My parents were rich. My mother especially. I have no brothers or sisters, everything came to me.” He was silent a moment, then said, “I was raised by a man named Albhar Danziran. He’s a human Mage of relatively small talent, but he was a friend of my father’s, and brought in to try to tutor me in magic.”
“You
“No,” said Striker, before Bael could answer. He was staring right at Bael, and Kett was annoyed to see Bael wasn’t even squirming. “He’s got potential but no skill. No practice. A blunt instrument.”
“Surprised you didn’t suck power from him,” Chance said.
Striker shrugged. “I would have, if he’d had any.”
“I didn’t come into any power until I was a teenager,” Bael said.
Dark was frowning. “You have magical power? What is your animal?”
Bael took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s everything,” he said. “Var changes with my mood. He can be whatever I need.”
Bael closed his eyes, tensed, and his shape blurred. From it flowed another creature, a small domestic cat who sat on the table.
It was perhaps a measure of the weirdness of the people in Kett’s life that not one of them seemed to think this was odd.
The cat blurred and became a rabbit. Then a small dog. Nothing big, Kett realized. Nothing threatening. Maybe Var was too weak and tired to be anything bigger. Or maybe he was doing it on purpose.
“You really are a Mage,” Chance breathed. Bael gave a bare nod. He reached out to stroke Var, who climbed into his lap and pressed close like a frightened puppy.
Tyrnan didn’t look impressed. “I thought being able to change your animal was something only Nasc children could do,” he said.
“Children and Magi,” Dark rumbled.
“It’s really the only Mage power I have,” Bael said.
“I didn’t think there were any,” Dark said. “After the death of…they were your parents, weren’t they?”
Bael nodded again. He glanced in Kett’s direction. “Albhar told me a shapeshifter killed my mother,” he said.
“Can’t make his mind up, can he?” Kett replied tonelessly, determined not to lose her cool like she had in the bar. “I’d never even met your mother.”
“Yes, I know that now, but then, I didn’t-”
“It doesn’t matter,” she cut in. “It ain’t important. What’s important is that your men killed half my villagers.”
Here Angie flinched, and Chance touched her hand reassuringly.
Kett went on relentlessly. “And they hurt plenty more. And Jarven.” Her fingers curled into her palm. Jarven might be a taciturn old bugger, but he was family. She’d known him longer than she’d known anyone else at this table.
“Did you know they were going to attack?” Chance asked Bael.
“No. I swear I had no idea. I thought we’d lose them once we got off-Realm. I didn’t honestly think they’d be able to trace me much farther than they could see me. I only stopped to heal Kett. Apart from that, I was moving pretty fast and leaving no tracks.”
“Then maybe this Albhar’s got more talent than you give him credit for,” said Striker.
“Or maybe you were lying,” Chance said, looking very much like her father. “You told us to warn as many Nasc as we could find. You knew we’d be a long way away from the mountain ranch, that the only person there capable of defending himself was Jarven who, let’s face it, is not in the first flush of youth anymore.”
“I didn’t attack anyone!”
His queen’s eyes were glacial. “No, you sent someone else to do it, like a coward.”
“I didn’t send
“Before,” Chance said, her beautiful face hard and cold as a statue. “Before you violated the bond between you and your mate.”
Bael’s eyes closed and his lashes looked damp. “She’s not my mate,” he said quietly.
“Too right,” growled Tyrnan.
“What was it even for?” Chance demanded ruthlessly. “Gain Kett’s sympathy? Play the hero? Or were you just out for revenge?”
“Was it Jarven?” Kett asked, before Bael could answer.
His eyes flew open. “No! Why would I attack Jarven?”
“Jealousy,” Tyrnan said.
“What? No! For fuck’s sake, I didn’t know they were going to attack the village. I had no idea. Thingy, you,” he pointed wildly to Angie as Var growled anxiously on his lap, “you said they were looking for Kett.”
“They said they were looking for a shapeshifter,” Angie whispered.
“Why did they want Kett?” Tyrnan asked.
“For this ritual of my father’s,” Bael said wearily. Var licked his fingers comfortingly. “Albhar’s obsessed with it. That’s why he told me a shapeshifter had killed my mother,” he added, “so that I’d bring one in.”
“The ritual demands a shapeshifter?” asked Chance.
“A shapeshifter and a Nasc.” Bael looked at Kett again. Again she looked away. “That’s what he was trying to do when…when we first met.”
Kett’s head snapped round. “The ritual that killed everyone but you and me?” she scoffed. “Bit of a shitty ritual.”
“Well, maybe it went wrong. He’s not that great a Mage.”
“No wonder he never taught you anything,” Kett sniped.
“Agreed,” said Bael, with a faint smile. “But-”
“A shapeshifter and a Nasc?” piped up Lya, her kelfish voice high and melodious. Everyone looked at her. “Is it a ritual for absolute power?”
There was silence.
“How do
“Your mother was obsessed with it. Well, I assume she was your mother, unless there were other female Nasc Magi around about twenty years ago.” She glanced at Dark, who shook his head. “And she was mated to a male Nasc Mage too. He had a lot more power than her. She wanted more. So she found this ritual, an ancient ritual. Part
