Barb Hendee - In Shade and Shadow

He grabbed the latch and opened the door, but Wynn couldn't budge.

"Well?" he said. "Are you coming or not? Your precious translations and codex will not sprout legs and come to you."

"But…" she started.

Domin il'Sänke turned halfway, with the barest hint of a smile beneath his sly eyes.

"No one knows either of us was out. Now put some clothes on!"

The door thumped shut. Wynn didn't care how he'd done this. She snatched up her robe, struggling to get it on in a hurry. As the robe's neck finally cleared her head, she found the majay-hì standing before her.

The young female tilted her head with only one ear raised. She stared with wide unblinking eyes, as if trying to figure out what Wynn was doing.

The dog—the female… the charcoal colored majay-hì… Chap's daughter. None of these seemed right for a being that Wynn knew was as sentient as herself in its own way.

The an'Cróan elves of the Farlands had an aversion to forcing a name upon another sentient being. Even their children eventually went before their ancestral spirits for what they called "name-taking." By whatever vision was gained there, they chose a name of their own in place of the one given at birth. And still…

"What am I going to call you?" Wynn asked, though she wouldn't get an answer.

As she gathered her elven quill, a bottle of ink, and a journal, stuffing these in a satchel, she thought of other dogs she'd known, aside from Chap or Lily. She slung the satchel's strap over her shoulder, but when she reached for the door's latch, a cascade of images flickered through her mind.

Chap alone—then with Lily, their heads touching—and finally a hazy secondhand memory of the old wolfhound.

"I know who your parents are," she said. "It doesn't help."

She wasn't certain what those raised memories truly meant. When she opened the door, the majay-hì trotted out before Wynn could stop her.

"Wynn… what are you doing?" il'Sänke asked, an edge of warning in his voice as he glared at Chap's daughter.

"She stays with me," Wynn answered.

"And how will you explain a wolf's sudden company amid curfew?" he asked. "Do you want your outing to be discovered?"

Yes, that was another matter, as well as how il'Sänke had managed to conceal it.

She stepped off down the passage with the female close behind, not giving the domin further opportunity to argue. Chap and Lily had sent their daughter. Much as Wynn questioned that decision, she would keep this young female as close as she'd once kept Chap.

Il'Sänke remained silent as he followed.

Wynn knew she should thank him for saving her, but he hadn't been the only one there. She dropped her hand, uncertain of how much Chap's daughter had become accustomed to her in so short a time.

Wynn's hand suddenly lifted and dragged across furred ears, as the female pushed under her palm.

Chane had been there, too. She longed to ask il'Sänke about him, but she held her tongue. As she opened the door to the courtyard, she glanced over her shoulder.

"How did you get us back?" she asked, and her gaze dropped to the majay-hì as they approached the main keep's double doors. "How did you get her to come?"

"She was persistent," he answered. "And I was too burdened carrying you to get rid of her. My first thought was to bring you to the hospice, but you didn't seem in serious danger. Taking you both to your room was best, before anyone learned you were gone."

Yes, but how did he get past the guards? He hadn't offered that, so she suspected he wouldn't answer.

Wynn opened one of the double doors and stepped into the main building's entryway. Amid the rush of others coming and going, she reached the common hall. As expected, the sight of her with a tall wolf brought a sea of stunned stares and frantic whispers.

"You and your dramatics!" il'Sänke grumbled.

Wynn forced an outward show of calm, but inside she was thankful not to spot Domin High-Tower among the forest of faces. He would've confronted her directly for an explanation. Then a less than proper notion popped up into her head, and she stroked the head of Chap's daughter.

"Perhaps I should introduce you to Regina Melliny and her pack of gossips," she whispered.

The female rumbled, and a quiver ran through the dog's back under Wynn's hand.

Wynn glanced down to find the dog looking about nervously.

Wynn's small room had been hard enough on the female—a strange and alien place for a majay-hì, who'd known only the forest wilds and perhaps the elves' tree enclaves before arriving in this city. But this enormous half-filled hall of humans must be nearly overwhelming. Wynn stepped quickly to the nearest table.

"Wynn?" il'Sänke called in warning.

She leaned between a pair of initiates and grabbed two bowls of vegetable stew and a doughy wheat roll.

"What do you think you're doing?" someone hissed.

"You lunatic!" another growled. "Get that thing out of here!"

Before Wynn spotted either source, the young initiate to her right screeched.

The boy nearly threw himself into the lap of a willowy apprentice in pale blue next in line on the bench. He stared off behind Wynn as his startled savior glared first the same way, and then at Wynn.

"Haven't you caused enough trouble?" the apprentice demanded.

Suddenly the boy's breathing turned to rapid whimpers as others around the table lunged away in all directions. A rumble rose directly behind Wynn.

"Wynn, move on! Now!" il'Sänke snapped at her.

She glanced back.

The majay-hì crept in with a soft snarl, but the dog was shaking almost as much as the boy. Who feared whom more?

"She won't hurt you," Wynn quickly tried to assure the boy.

She reached for his small hand, and the apprentice holding him slapped her hand away.

Chap's daughter snarled as Wynn quickly swung her arm back to block the dog. She'd made another terrible mistake.

Her brethren saw only an overly tall and ominously dark wolf—not a majay-hì.

The very term meant "hound of the elementals" or "Fay dog," something she'd learned in scant writings and the mentions of Domin Tilswith. It was a quaint fable for a young girl not even an initiate at the time. Even others who might've heard of these beings in the deep forests of Lhoin'na to the south probably never saw one. No one had, not even Wynn, until she'd met Chap. But she'd recognized him—or at least guessed in wonder at what he was that first time some two years ago.

But Chap's daughter looked nothing like him, and she wasn't like him. She'd been born wild, for all her sentience, in a far-off land, where humans were an enemy to be guarded against. How many ways could Wynn alienate herself inside her own guild?

"Get going!" il'Sänke growled, his voice directly behind her.

Wynn pushed the majay-hì along and headed straight for the narrow side archway. Wide-eyed initiates and apprentices glowered at her until she slipped from sight into the outer passage. All the way to the heavy stairway door leading to the catacombs, she heard Domin il'Sänke muttering behind her. And they descended into the shadowy spiraling stairwell.

Although Wynn would've never agreed, it seemed strange that il'Sänke hadn't demanded that she get rid of the dog. Her life in the guild was going to get more complicated than before. As they emerged into the catacombs' cavernous entry room, Master Tärpodious sat at the back table, scribbling rapidly with a quill. But he looked up.

"Ah, young Hygeorht," the old archivist began, his tone chill.

He scowled over the bowls and bread clutched in her hands. Food wasn't allowed in the archives. Then his gaze shifted to the female with a harsh squint.

"What… is… that ?" he sputtered. "I was asked to prepare space for reviewing the codex, and assist you as needed. What is that beast doing in my archive?"