Disclaimer: The Halfblood Chronicles are property of Mercedes Lackey and Andre Norton. All is not mine. Except that which is. Take only pictures, leave only footprints, you know the drill.
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His words echoed still in her mind, as she rushed through hallways and brushed past confused slaves, who looked at her with irritation, pity, disinterest, or fear. Her mind was darting in frantic little circles, like a cornered mouse, thoughts tracing and retracing the same pathways.
How…?
Why…?
Surely…
No-no-no-no-no!
Her wild flight halted only when she reached the Curtain, guarding the harem. Her bewildered mind finally condensed on one point.
I can't face Him again.
Once she stepped beyond that magic shield, it was more than likely that it would not open to her again until her Lord summoned her once more. Once she stepped beyond… she would be trapped. It was strange how what had always seemed a comforting shelter to her so clearly now appeared a prison. It was strange…
She lingered undecided for what seemed an age in front of that shimmering wall, heart beating painfully in her chest. It would be so simple to take that step, to submit herself to the inexorable flow of events that would follow.
If this would truly please Him… Hadn't she always wanted nothing more than his happiness? Hadn't she known, almost from the first moment she came into the harem, when He was newly risen to his father's place, that she would do anything for Him?
I thought that He cared for me! The thought tore through her head, an anguished howl, and she knew again exactly why she could not face Him again, not even briefly. It was not so much the pain of betrayal, as the pain of knowing every moment she had spent with Him was a part of the lie. Even if she was not traded away, she would never again be able to place her unqualified trust in His hands, never again be able to accept His words without questioning what lay behind them.
She turned away, stumbling aimlessly through the halls, mind a blur of confusion, and found her steps taking a familiar course. Amity. The old slave woman that had been teaching her the dance. This was the room she had procured for their practice, and as a favor to the old woman. Why had she gone here? A bitter thought snaked its way into her mind. Where else do I have to go? She was still staring disconsolately at the unassuming wooden door when it opened.
"Well come along in, then, dearie. No cause to go poking about in hallways, making a stumble-stone of ye'self." The old woman cackled as Cwen blinked dumbly at her. "These old ears of mine still got a good bit 'a use in them, don't you doubt, sweetpea. They've got a right liking for dancer steps. Now get ye in here."
Obediently, Cwen stepped inside and Amity closed the door behind her. "Ah, it is so nice to have a room of me own with a proper door an' all, and here's thanking you again, lassie. Now have a seat an' tell an old lady what's troubling you." So saying, Amity seated herself comfortably on the edge of her simple mattress, motioning Cwen Leaf down beside her.
She found herself at a loss for words. "I—well, it's just—I've got to leave!" she burst out. "Somehow. I just—can't—oh, I don't even know why I'm telling you this!" The old woman's face, understanding and pitying, was suddenly too much. She burst into tears, as she realized she'd wanted to do since that first, horrible moment. Amity—bless her old heart—didn't try to say anything, only took her in warm, motherly arms, and held her close, rocking her until her spasms of tears subsided, and she choked out the painful story of the day's events.
Finally she pulled away, wiping her face. "I'm sorry. I should—go. After everything you've done—this is dangerous! I don't want to cause trouble for you."
Amity shook her head, clucking her tongue chidingly. "Oh, never you worry yourself about me, sugar. I didn't get to be this old without learning me a trick or two. I've got my ways."
"But-"
"None of that now," Amity interrupted firmly. "You listen to me now; you've got some serious decisions to make. Do you still have your iron bit?"
Cwen's hand rose guiltily to finger the bit of dark metal that lay biting into the gold behind the three beryls of her collar. It had been something Amity had insisted on, before providing the lessons, and Cwen had wanted so much to learn that she had humored the old woman. Things had never been quite the same after that, she thought in retrospect.
She had not lost any of her devotion to Lord Shaen—indeed, she had felt almost more fervent—but for the first time an element of uncertainty and worry had crept into her mind. And things had always seemed to be distracting her: at first only coming up with ways to make Amity's life easier, and then, more and more, the problems of other slaves around her pulled at her attention. Had she changed? Enough that His feelings towards her might diminish?
Amity's brisk voice pulled her way from her miserable self-contemplation. "Good girl. Now then, have you given any thought to where you want to go? Assuming for a moment that leaving is not a problem."
Cwen could only shake her head mutely. Given thought to leaving? She could barely even wrap her mind around the truth that she must go. "Where could I? Even if I could get to the wilds, I wouldn't know how to take care of myself." She shuddered, at the thought of being out there alone; starving, dying. Alone. The word hurt to think.
"Well…" Amity examined her thoughtfully. "What do you know about wizards?"
Cwen Leaf's eyes flew open, and she turned an automatic, frightened glance towards the door, though she knew the room was intentionally located in an isolated portion of the manor. She turned back to face Amity, who was calmly waiting for her response.
"What do I know?" she said faintly. "Well, they're halfbloods, who have somehow survived to adulthood. The Elvenlords thought they were destroyed, but they turned up again. With the Elvenbane. And dragons. They fought a second war and… the Elvenlords don't say it, but they must have won. Something still has them stirred up, and it's not just the Young Lords."
Amity cackled with delight. "Very good! You're quick as a whip, girl! I knew there was a reason I liked you!" The old woman rubbed her hands together. "Now then, I suppose you've already guessed where I'm going with this? Good then, I think its time I introduced you to Jemayne. She's fixing to make a run for the wizards, and if anyone can get you out of here, it'll be her. She's got the human magic."
Cwen could only stare blankly. "The—the what?"
"Human magic, lamb."
"Human magic?"
"That's what I said, hon. Oh, don't act so surprised! What do you think makes the wizards so frightening to the elves, if not the magic from both sides?" Her old face suddenly became stony. "You wouldn't have heard of it—or seen it. They cull any children that show the signs. Maynee slipped by in the confusion of those last few years when the Old Lord was ailing. Poor dove had no idea what was happening to her when her magic woke and started fighting the collar."
"Now then." Amity levered herself up, and started toward the door. "You'll have to leave right off—not too bad, Jamayne's been spoiling to get a move on. She's all set, and you can grab a bit more from the kitchens, but it's going to be tight." She shook her head as Cwen opened her mouth. "Hush now, out we go!" So saying, the remarkable old woman headed out the door at a brisk pace, and Cwen found herself with no choice but to hurry and keep up.
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Cwen looked over at the shadowy figure moving beside her, darkly cloaked and silent as she was, and then up at the night sky. Her head still spun from the rush of the night's events.
Jemayne had turned out to be a small, sharp-tongued kitchen slave, who had tartly informed Cwen that she was only along as a special favor to Amity, and that she'd better not make too big a nuisance of herself. Cwen would have been annoyed by her constant grumblings if she hadn't realized that she was a burden to the other girl, and a horrible risk as well. She had even said as much to Amity, in those dismal last few moments before they parted company. The old woman had paused and taken Cwen's face between her hands, looking into her face seriously. "I have faith in you Cye'rriah. You have more resources than you know."
The unfamiliar word rang strangely in Cwen's ear. "What does—that mean?"
Amity shook her head, with a low, affectionate chuckle. "It means… Flame Spirit. And that holds a meaning you shall have to discover on your own, my bright one." She smiled into Cwen's eyes for a long moment, then laid a motherly kiss on her forehead. "When you get to the Citadel, tell them Amarhys sent you."
After that, there hadn't been time for anymore questions or conversations.
Jemayne grabbed her arm, calling her attention back to the present, and together they crouched down behind the shelter of a tower of boxes, stacked against a wall. They both made no more than a whisper of noise, Cwen moving with the natural grace of a dancer, and Jemayne with the hard-learned caution of a common-slave.
Cwen looked to Jemayne, and the other girl made a brief gesture, ahead, and to the left, the direction in which she sensed thoughts. They were relying heavily on the girl's mind-magic to avoid detection. The idea of human magic still left Cwen feeling slightly dazed, yet Jemayne had proved the worth of her abilities several times over already this evening.
Whereas I… Cwen shook her head. She could dance, sing songs, perform all the useless amusements of a clever pet, and she was good in bed, to put it bluntly. It occurred to her to wonder if she'd even be welcome in the Citadel. What value do I have, other than as a toy? Do I even have the right to be angry at Him?
Jemayne tugged irritably at her arm, and together they moved on through the night.
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"Everything's changed, and I want to believe
There must be a reason, there just has to be
Cause my faith was strong,
till it all hit home
And it's not enough for me to trust
When it hurts too much
"On the days I feel like I've failed you
The days I feel I've been failed
I need You by me
For I am Yours, I was Yours
"Where is the power, to give what I gave
Give back the strength
Give back the faith I had yesterday
Cause you were my All
You were my Everything
"And I know I have fallen but…
I have landed in healing hands."
(An alteration of Kristy Starling's "Something More")
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A/N: Wow. I didn't think Amity's part would wind up being so long, but for some reason, I really like her. ^_^ What do you think? It's a good thing she had a plan (of sorts) 'cause I sure didn't! ^_^U
I hope this chapter wasn't to slow—I promise to put more action in the next one! Heh- maybe Kyrtian will show up!
Anyway, please tell me what you think! Pleasepleaseplease. If you like, I update. If I get 5 reviews the next chapter will be up in a week. Okay? Hm? *big eyes.*
Cookies to all the people who reviewed last week, and thanks again! ^_^_^_^