Patricia Briggs - Masques

“Wolf!” Aralorn said in an urgent whisper. “Uriah. Can you smell them?”

He stopped completely, his dark clothes helping him to blend in. His ritual cleansing had left no human scent to betray him, only the sharp/sweet scents of herbs. Even a Uriah couldn’t track in the dark, so unless they had already been seen, they were safe for a moment. Wolf scanned with other senses to find where the Uriah were. It wasn’t hard. He was surprised that they hadn’t run into one before. His father, it seemed, had been busy. There were a lot of the things around, waiting.

Once, he had watched a spider at her web. Fascinated he had tried to see what she thought about, waiting for her prey to become entangled in the airy threads. He got the same feeling from the Uriah. He wondered if he were the victim of this web.

He thought about turning back. If the ae’Magi was aware that he was here, it might be better to return another time. After a brief hesitation, he shrugged and continued on with more caution. The ae’Magi knew his son well enough to know that he would be coming sometime; a surprise appearance would make no difference either way.

Aralorn buried her face in the pathetic shield of Wolf’s shirt, trying to block out the smell. For some reason, the smell of the Uriah was worse than the sounds that they had made outside the cave. Hearing Talor’s voice, seeing his eyes on that grotesque mockery of a human body, had made her want to retch and cry at the same time. It still did.

By the time she’d gained control, Wolf stopped for a second time and set her on the ground, motioning her to hide herself. He hesitated, then shifted into his familiar lupine form before gliding into the clearing.

The ae’Magi sat motionless on the ground, his legs and arms positioned in the classic meditation form. A small fire danced just between Wolf and the magician. The newly risen moon caught the clear features of the Archmage ruthlessly, revealing the remarkable beauty therein. Character was etched in the slight laugh lines around his eyes and the aquiline nose. His eyes opened, their color appearing black in the darkness, but no less extraordinary than in full light. His lips curved a welcoming smile. The warm tones vocalized the sentiment in the expression on the ae’Magi’s face.

“My son,” he said, “you have come home.”

If Wolf wanted to believe that smile, Aralorn could see no sign of it from where she sat hiding under the large leaves of a plant that happened to be growing near the ae’Magi. She hadn’t, of course, stayed where Wolf had left her. She wouldn’t have been able to see anything.

Wolf lay down and began cleaning the toes of his front feet with a long pink tongue.

The ae’Magi’s face froze at the implied insult, then relaxed into a rueful expression. “It was always so with you. Say walk, and you run, stop, and you go. I shouldn’t have expected a joyous reunion, but I had hoped. It warms my heart to see you again.”

The wolf who was his son looked up, and said, not quite correctly, “We have no audience here. Do you take me for a fool? Should I return as the long-lost son to his loving father? Let me know when you are through making speeches, so that we may talk.”

Aralorn marveled at the perfect response the magician made. A hint of tragedy crossed his face, only to be supplanted by a look of stoic cheerfulness. “Let us talk, then, my son. Tell my why you are come if it be not out of love for your father.”

Something was wrong, but she couldn’t figure out just what it was. Something the ae’Magi said? Something he’d done?

“I pray you be seated.” He indicated a spot not too near him with his left hand.

It was a power play, Aralorn saw. By politely offering Wolf a seat, the ae’Magi made him look like an unruly child if he didn’t take it. If he did take it, it would give the ae’Magi the upper hand to have Wolf obey his first request. He’d reckoned without Wolf, who looked not at all uncomfortable and made no move to come closer to the ae’Magi.

The entire effect was lost without an audience of some sort, Aralorn thought. Was there someone other than the Uriah watching them?

“I do not play your games,” Wolf said impatiently. “I have come to stop you. Everywhere that I go, I see one of your filthy pets. You are annoying me, and I will not put up with it.” Wolf put no force behind his words; the grave-gravel tone carried threat enough.

The ae’Magi stood and stepped slightly to his left, so the fire no longer was a barrier between him and the wolf. “I am sorry if I have caused you bother. Had I known that the shapeshifter woman was yours, I would never have taken her. She didn’t tell me about you until we were done, and there was nothing I could do about it. Did she tell you that she cried when I . . .” He let his voice drift off.

Wolf rose to his feet with a growl of rage and stalked toward the figure. Abruptly, Aralorn realized what it was that bothered her about the ae’Magi. He cast no shadow from the light of the fire. She noticed something else: Wolf’s path would take him directly across the place that the ae’Magi would have had him sit at.

“Wolf, stop!” she yelled as loud as she could in mouse form, hoping that he’d heed her. “He has no shadow. It’s an illusion.”

Wolf stopped, muting the feral tones in his throat. Her voice broke into his unexpected rage. He did then what he should have done first. Sniffing the air, he smelled only the taint of moat and Uriah, no fire—no human.

Ignoring the pseudo-ae’Magi, Aralorn the mouse scampered to the space toward which Wolf had been baited. “There’s a circle drawn in rosemary and tharmud root here.”

“A containment spell of some sort,” commented Wolf. She was exploring a little more closely than he was comfortable with. She needed to be more careful of herself. “It’s probably best if we don’t trigger it.” His voice was calm, but his body was still stiff. He sketched a sign in the air, and the image of the ae’Magi froze.

“Is he directing the illusion, do you think?” asked Aralorn, bouncing away from the circle toward Wolf.

“I doubt it. He would not have to. The illusion spell can be given directives, and the trap requires no magic to initialize once it is set.” He regained his human form and picked up Aralorn, setting her on his shoulder, where he’d gotten used to having her. “If I had triggered the containment spell, it would probably have alerted him then.”

“Like a spider’s web,” said Aralorn.

“Just so,” agreed Wolf.

He stared at the illusion of his father and made no effort to move away. It wasn’t a spell; she’d have felt it if something was actually affecting Wolf. Maybe it was something more powerful than magic.

“Where to now?” Aralorn asked. “Do we wait for the Uriah to attack, or do we look for the ae’Magi?”

“For someone who should be scared and cowering, you sound awfully eager.” Wolf stood staring at the silhouette of the ae’Magi: His voice wasn’t as emotionless as usual.

“Hey,” replied Aralorn briskly, “it’s better than spending the winter cooped up in the caves.”

Wolf made no answer except to run an absentminded hand over the smooth skin of his cheek as if he were looking for something that wasn’t there.

Aralorn waited as patiently as she could, then said, “He knew that you were coming.”

Wolf nodded. “He’s been expecting me for a long time. I knew that. I should have been more alert for something like this.” He bowed his head. “I should have asked before. What he said, I have to know. Aralorn, when he had you here, did he . . .” His voice tightened with rage and stopped.