Thanks accorded to ShadowCat 17, Herald Kahlan, and AmberStag.
We're winding down to the end. Circles of Change ends at Chapter 37, and then I may or may not choose to do a sequel, which would most likely be shorter. It will be called Circles of Blood (Blood referencing 'kin,' not bloodmages or the red stuff that tastes like a penny that comes out of you if you get run over by a bicycle).
And if you like what I've written here, you might like my other novels, which you can find on my new homepage (see my main author page). Kitsune, Snow Angel, and Land of the Lepii are the ones that have never been seen here before. I'm sure you'll enjoy them, and please feel free to comment on the bottoms of the pages while you're there.
Kitsune is the story of an alien invader who comes to Earth on a mission to prepare it to be conquered so part of his race could move there from the overburdened planets they'd subjugated before, but while on Earth he discovers a few startling things that have been hidden on the planet, among them a unique young woman named Morgan.
Snow Angel - Matthew Hart is a man on a mission. A mission to find the father who vanished thirty years ago in a snowstorm. After departing from sunny South Florida to the icy regions of the United States-Canada border and beyond, Matt begins to realize that his father might not have been what he'd said, and that there might be things about himself that could be rather supernatural in origin. When a journalist gets tangled up in the mess, the hunt for his father turns into a hunt for the Snow Angel, and things only get riskier. A bounty hunter joins the chase along lonely interstates stretching from New York to Michigan to across the Canadian border, and unfortunately for Matt, there's a large chance that his father's time may run out before Matt can ever reach him.
Land of the Lepii is a sardonic take on the answer of giant, maneating rabbits to the current immigration problem in the form of a tongue-in-cheek news article written for "The Onion".
Thoughts: 32 people watch this story, and I've been noticing that I've been getting fewer reviews each chapter. I realize that might be because of the seven-month lag between chapters a few months back, but it could be because the story is going downhill in terms of quality and plot. I'm not asking for reviews. I'm asking for an answer as to if this has begun to suck. Thank you.
And we keep dreamin' of a world
Where all that's good so we were told
We need a hero
And we keep dreamin' of a time
Where good is all that we can find
We need a...
We need a...
Hero
Aaron Waters' We Need A Hero
Chapter 33: And We Keep Dreaming
Rowen was, by now, at the very end of his wits and patience.
"No," he said plaintively, though the 'no's that had come beforehand hadn't seemed to have much effect on Selenay.
He began anew. "I need to be with whatever team attacks the Empire from the Fury Sea. I can travel almost as fast and as long as any Herald, and I'm better trained. Kerowyn can train the students to be one with their Companions, but in a fight I'm better, faster, and I have the advantage of being unknown to the Empire and as terrifying as any of their Changecreatures. I am the upper hand we need over Melles; I can be into his Castle and out again before anyone will know what happened."
Not quite the truth. Rowen wasn't that unobtrusive; any Cold Blade could be more stealthy and quiet with a blade in hand and a mission to complete, and the Warrior knew he himself had enough money to hire one, but Selenay and Daren would never agree to any sort of assassin that wasn't of the Heralds. He didn't know if Selenay had a personal assassin, per se, but chances were even if she did, he would never know about it.
But he needed to be with the team that took out the Emperor, if there was one. He could be the team himself. And then come back out, whole and alive, for once Melles was gone, the rest of the Empire would crumble while the Empire's army was distracted on one front while the Haighlei cleaned up the rest of the vast nation from the other side. If they could disable communications, that would be even better. By the time the officers in charge of the Army realized what had happened, they would be surrounded, and the Emperor and all mages that Tremane had marked as possible men to take over the Iron Throne would all be dead.
Hopefully from there the Army would disperse, and then Valdemar would be safe at long last.
Unfortunately Selenay couldn't see that he was the best man for the job, and his private audience with her--her last of the night--had stretched from a few minutes to nearly two candlemarks now. It had done so precisely because he couldn't exactly shout his convictions at the ruler of the country he sheltered in, though he dearly longed to, so his words lacked the usual compelling force and vehemence behind them. And so the argument drew further out.
"You are conspicuous," Selenay said. "You are obvious, easily spotted, and cannot change your appearance. Any peasant would be able to identify you."
"But peasants don't have to see me," Rowen pointed out. He could travel at night and through the mountains, and forage in the orchards in the foothills when he needed to.
"Someone will. And I do not condone assassination squads when they are not completely necessary."
Necessary? Melles is insane. Sure that this next point would change the Queen's opinion, he said, "Elspeth and Darkwind assassinated Ancar."
"Ancar was mad," Selenay retorted. "He was a very real threat and very damaging to the Western Border. Nothing was going to stop him."
"And nothing is going to stop Melles. He is attacking Hardorn. Hardorn is our ally. It's only a matter of time before he starts for Karse. As Valdemar and through our treaties, we are bound to--"
"Our treaties?" Selenay asked, eyebrow arched. "You are not a citizen of Valdemar, Rowen shena Tale'sedrin."
"But," Rowen spluttered. Had he really meant to say 'our'? He wasn't a citizen of Valdemar; just a wandering strange Shin'a'in who didn't really want to go back to the Plains.
"As for the matter of the treaties themselves," Selenay said, the temperature of her voice dropping significantly. "They are treaties drawn up and authorized by my Heralds and Ambassadors when they are not directly written by me. The treaty with King Tremane of Hardorn allows him to ask for troops when he feels that they are needed and for his people to seek refuge here should the unthinkable occur with the Empire. That is what we agreed on, and that is what will occur. Anything separate from that concerning the Empire or your going there will be my jurisdiction and decision, not yours."
"That's unreasonable!" Rowen exclaimed, fighting not to whip his tail in frustration.
Selenay looked up at him, eyes worn and weary with age and war. "It is my country and I am its ruler, and as long as you live in my country you shall abide by the rules of Valdemar. Should you choose to fight the Empire on your own, you will do it on your own time and expense, and use none of mine nor that of my allies."
She paused for a moment, caught in a look that said she was clearly listening to her Companion. While her eyes were far away, the expression on her face changed from being haggard to somnolent, and then she focused on him and lowered her voice. "If you choose to fight on your own front, I cannot control that, nor can I directly allow it. In that case, I will have to overlook it, and you will not be able to ask me for aid should you need it."
Is she giving me permission? Rowen thought. The steady look she was giving him intensified, and for a moment he thought he could see the boundless wisdom of a Companion behind them. Was Caryo looking through her eyes?
Yes, he decided. He now had the tacit permission of his chief opponent, but he was going to have to handle his plans quietly and quickly.
"May I assume that you still oppose my plans?" he asked for the mere show of it.
"Yes," she said, rising. "And I shall whenever you bring it up in Council. I suggest you do not do so again."
He sighed--both from relief that the argument was over--and relief that they could both seek their beds.
Rowen rose from his kneeling position as well, according her that respect and more that he dared not show. "Thank you for your time, Majesty."
There was a knock at the door, and Herald Daren stuck his head in. "Selenay, I believe it's time for you to rest now."
Selenay nodded, then looked at Rowen in a clear dismissal.
The Shin'a'in took the hint and showed himself out, nodding once at the Prince-Consort.
There was no one in the corridors of the Palace as he navigated them, save for a few pages and a lone Herald near the Great Hall, and he left the Palace to meander down to the ekele under a cool night sky full of stars.
He reached the ekele without problem; all the Companions were clustered in bunches around the Field, dozing quietly or floating along the grass like quiet ghosts.
There was no one in the ekele when he arrived--who would be at this hour?--but the soft notes of an unfamiliar tune drifted through the garden, soothing his tired nerves and giving him a little more strength.
He followed the gentle chords of the song until he found a red-garbed musician sitting cross-legged next to the stream running through the garden, gently plucking at the gittern.
"Julian, what are you doing up?"
"I wanted to wait for you," the Bard said quietly, dragging a fingertip down the strings in a dark glissando.
"Why?"
"It was quiet and I couldn't sleep."
The brook wasn't exactly noisy, but the soft sound of burbling, splashing water still covered the sound of barely audible notes being picked out on the fingerboard.
"Are you tired now?" Rowen asked, gazing down at the mess of blonde hair.
"Are you?"
"A bit."
"Then sleep."
Rowen sighed, looking around into the sere and verde coloring of the flora around them. There was nothing there but plants, not that he expected to see anything at all. He glanced back down at Julian and tired blind eyes under tangled golden hair now met his searching eyes.
That clouded blue gaze looked both past and through him, and Rowen traced the scar across Julian's face with his eyes.
What are you seeing?He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying to not think for a moment, and was interrupted by a hand reaching up to grasp his own.
How does he do that?
Rowen opened his eyes to see Julian's hand holding his fingertips; not pulling or tugging. Just holding.
He obliged and knelt, then folded his legs under him so his underbelly rested on the ground, and Julian was only a handbreadth away.
After a moment, Julian let the gittern rest entirely in his lap and sighed. He slowly, surely leaned back into Rowen's chest, obviously trusting that Rowen wasn't going to bolt.
And I'm not, Rowen promised both himself and Julian.
The hand that had been holding Rowen's tightened and wove so that now their fingers were interlaced, connected in a way that the two of them could never be.
Rowen had to fight from groaning. Huh. Trust me to think of that at a time like this.
He moved his other arm around to loop around Julian's chest, securing the Bard to himself.
Julian's shoulders rose and sagged as he sighed again, and then Rowen felt him go still as the man slipped into sleep.
Did he wait up all this time for me?His lifebonded partner snuggled in closer, pulling Rowen's arm tighter.
It was at that point when Rowen was almost getting comfortable when he realized something that made his blood run cold and his flesh quiver into goosepimples.
What was going to happen to Julian when he left to kill Melles?
What if he died? Julian would surely follow him; he'd said as much on the rooftop of the castle in Shonar.
Oh Gods. He fought the urge to groan and wake Julian up.
Instead, he rose with a bare scuff of hoof or fur against skin, lifting Julian and the gittern easily, intending to bring the man into the corner "room" of the ekele that was his own. There was no gittern case near the stream; it was probably upstairs, and Julian could put the instrument away tomorrow when he awoke.
He shuffled through the grass around the paths, not wanting the sharp sounds of his hooves on the paved walkway to wake up the sleeping Bard in his arms, and quietly made his way to his room.
Rowen stopped dead in the doorway, eyes wide. There was a bed obviously made up for a human next to his own pile of mattresses that he sprawled upon at night, and the gittern case was laid out next to it, open and waiting for the instrument cradled in Julian's arms.
What--how did he--
Rowen tried in earnest not to curse. Does he intend to sleep in all honesty right next to me?
The Changechild exhaled hard through his nostrils, shook his head and continued into the room. He laid Julian down on the bed first, easing him down so gently, then took the gittern from his unresisting hands. He carefully followed by memory all of the times he'd seen Julian take out and put away the gittern--which was, frankly, not much--and put the instrument away quickly and quietly.
After he'd stalled as long as he could, he turned back to the beds and tucked Julian in. He couldn't help but smile at the action, and then turned to his own bed, carefully stepping in and around the Bard before lying down and closing his eyes.