Elvenblood (7 page)

The only dragons who
would
have opposed her were no longer with the Kin, anyway.

But that particular observation brought her no joy, only a sour feeling in the back of her mind.
Those
dragons—led by her own mother, who
should
have been supporting Myre instead of agonizing over the wayward behavior of Myre's brother Keman—were part and parcel of the cause of the very restrictions Myre now suffered under!

If Mother hadn't brought that damned halfblood cub home
—
or if someone had just had the decency to get rid of it instead of letting Keman make a pet out of it
—
none of this would have happened
.

Now the waterspout snarled, silently.

That halfblood "cub" had grown up to absorb the attentions that Myre's mother, Alara,
should
have devoted to Myre herself, right from the very beginning! It was all just one more example of how everything that Keman did only caused Alara to spoil and cosset him more, and everything Myre did was somehow wrong. Even when the cub had
finally
overstepped even the generous bounds Alara's indulgence set, and attacked Myre's best friend, it wasn't killed as it should have been, it was only sent out into the wilderness to fend for itself. Then what did Keman do but follow it—

And what did Mother do? Not abandon the brat to his own devices, she followed
him.
Then, when he defies the entire Lair and then runs away, she keeps the rest from going after him to punish him the way he should have been in the first place
!

Myre seethed at the memories of how Alara had spoiled Keman and ignored her; her stomach burned with anger and her talons clenched so hard on the stone of the roof-edge that it began to chip beneath them. Keman, always Keman!

And even when the brat came back and Myre
finally
put him in his place, defeating him in single combat, did Alara at last come to realize which of her two offspring was really the superior? No! Instead, she and half of the elders went kiting off after precious little Keman, and in the process of helping protect him and his pets, revealed the existence of dragons to the very creatures they had been trying to avoid for centuries!

It was enough to make a sensible dragon want to rend things.

Anger
was
making her lose control over her shape, and with difficulty, she calmed herself down. After all, it wasn't as if she was all alone. Lori was
twice
the mother Alara had been to her. Lori thought that Myre was absolutely right in everything she had said and done—and Lori was supporting Myre in her bid to become the Lair's new shaman.

Not that Mother ever gave me one iota of training. Oh no
, that
was all for dear Keman and his pet
!

And after all, at least now that everything was turned so upside down, there were more opportunities than ever before for an ambitious dragon to gain power in the Lair. You just had to be clever about it.

And once I've got the Lair under my talons
—
If
Keman's very lucky, I
might
leave him and his pets alone. For a while
.

Once she had a halfblood of her very own, it would only be a matter of time before she had the Lair. Once she had the Lair and the rest of the Kin saw how successful she was, it wouldn't take long before other Lairs followed her as leader.

Then I'll have them all, elves, halfbloods… and Keman and his pets. Not even Mother or Father Dragon will be able to stop me.

She had come here in the first place simply out of a spirit of rebellion, but once she actually came to realize what the situation was in the House of Treves, this great plan all fell into place for her. That was why she stayed here, cultivating Sheyrena. She knew something that poor, pathetic little Sheyrena didn't.

Rena's brother, Lorryn, was a halfblood. He had no contact with the other wizards—in fact, until the Elvenbane showed up—

Elvenbane. Pah. Trust that little nuisance Shana to come up with a name like that for herself. Lashana wasn't good enough for her, oh no, she has to have a name like some creature out of a legend.

—he hadn't even known there
were
any other halfbloods in existence. He had no way of getting to the new Citadel now even if he had contact with them; he was too busy trying to keep from being caught.

But the odds against him were lengthening. Myre knew, even if he didn't, that the High Lords' Council had declared that all male elves of a certain age were to be tested with illusion-breaking spells. Paranoia ran high among them at the moment, especially after Myre had seen to it that a particular rumor started.

That was a good touch, planting the story that Shana's ally Valyn was really a halfblood. If Dyran, who supposedly hated the halfblood worse than anyone, could have had a halfblood heir, where else might halfbloods be lurking?

Lorryn knew that something was up, though; he'd severely curtailed his visits to his friends, and had stopped attending official gatherings altogether. Myre had a pretty good idea that the fete this evening was going to be one of those times and places where the young males came under magical scrutiny. If Lorryn also knew or guessed this, it was probably the reason why he had an attack of
kryshein
at the very last minute.

Myre was calm again, contemplating the jaws of the trap that were closing around Lorryn with satisfaction.
He can't hide forever. Sooner or later, the High Lards are going to send someone to test him in person, here, and it will all be over for him. And I will be there to play savior
.

She had been filling Rena's head with stories about the dragons, as well as the wizards, painting idyllic pictures of life in the Lairs and in the new Citadel. Those stories were surely getting back to Lorryn. When the jaws of the trap closed, she would be there in the very nick of time, revealing—what?

I
think I'll keep the fact that I'm a dragon to myself for a while, at least until I have him safely into the wilderness
—
unless I need to shape-change in order to actually get him out of here. Right now, Rena has every reason to trust me. She'll probably believe me if I say I'm an agent of the wizards, when I offer to rescue Lorryn.

Lorryn would have no reason not to trust her, after all. Myre could spirit the halfblood out, get him into the desert, and
then
start working on him, once he was weakened by thirst and hunger. He'd be easy to manipulate.

I’ll
tell him that there are dragons who are against helping the halfbloods, and that I'm trying to get them out of power. It's even true. Once I have his help, I can depose the elders. Then I'll either have figured out how to keep him under control, or I'll just get rid of him
.

The sun descended slowly, setting the thin clouds on the horizon aflame, as Myre contemplated her eventual triumph.

The first Portal transition left Rena shaking; the second left her partly stunned with confusion. She followed in her father's wake with her mind still spinning, too numb to really take much in. The reception chamber was about the size of her father's study; in fact, in other circumstances it might
be
Lord Ardeyn's study. They were ushered out immediately and into a dimly lit hallway, so she didn't get a good look at the room. She
did
notice an odd little tingling of magic along her skin as she passed the door, as if someone had cast a spell on her, but it didn't seem to mean anything and she dismissed it from her thoughts.

She hardly noticed her surroundings at first—the corridor her father led her through was very dark, which seemed odd, but that might just have been for effect. It was only when her foot brushed against something soft, something that hopped away, that she looked up, startled, and realized that the "corridor" she was walking through was formed by the trunks and interlaced branches of enormous trees, that the "carpet" beneath her feet was a thick, cushiony moss, and that the "room" they were entering was a huge glade, a sylvan paradise, a scene out of the days before the first Wizard War.

A perfect illusion of an evening sky, complete with full moon and sparkling stars, stretched overhead. Rena only knew it was an illusion because the stars were scattered randomly across the heavens, and not set in the constellations she knew from her wanderings with Lorryn. Where the walls of the ballroom would have been, there were only tall trees, straight and perfect, their boughs holding the round globes of glass in which magically created, multihued light was held captive. The springy floor boasted flat white flowers, spread out on the surface of the moss, which opened their five moon-round petals to the false moon above and gave forth an intoxicating perfume when they were trod upon.

Lord Tylar and Lady Viridina were already lost in the crowd. Rena had the presence of mind to step aside into the shelter of the trees before stopping to gawk. She had never seen illusion or created-magic on a scale like this before in her life! Truly, Lord Ardeyn had spared no expense; a spectacle like this must have taken the talents of a dozen mages the equal of Lorryn, perhaps more!

An odd chirruping sound overhead made her jump; she looked up, and met the bright, shining eyes of a bird with plumage as fantastic as anything she had ever created in her garden. It chirped at her again, and before she could even mink to call it to her hand, it flew down to her shoulder, and from there, to the hand she held automatically outstretched. She began to pet it, a smile coming to her lips without an effort. It had a long, sweeping tail, a high, upraised crest, and pale pink feathers as soft as thistledown. It leaned into her caress and closed its eyes with pleasure, crooning musically to itself.

A moment later, a young doe stepped out of the shadows and begged for a caress of its own. As Rena continued to look around, she spotted more tamed birds and animals wandering among the guests—mostly being ignored, which was a pity, for they seemed to crave attention and petting.

There must be a spell on them to keep them away from the refreshments, and to keep them from soiling someone's clothing
, she thought, practicality intruding on the romance. And sure enough, just as that occurred to her, the bird took off and sought a perch a little distance away, making a discreet deposit before returning to her hand.

This was
exactly
the kind of fete Rena had read about, from the old days, when the elven lords were secure in their power and before they had begun to feud among themselves again. Was Lord Ardeyn trying to imply something by this?

Oh, probably not; he's probably just trying to impress the High Lords who remember what the old days were like.

"Would my lady care for wine?"

Rena controlled herself this time, and did not jump or let out a squeak when the voice came from behind her. The doe scampered away and the bird took off for the branches as she turned, to find herself confronted by a creature that did not in the least resemble the human slave she had expected.

Instead, the servant politely offering a tray of exquisitely fluted crystal goblets had the head of a stork, feather-covered hands and arms, and two definite claws instead of feet. But the feathers were brilliant blue and scarlet, the head boasted a crest never worn by any stork Rena had ever seen, and the body beneath the tunic in Hernalth colors seemed human enough.

"Yes," she said, as the bird-man cocked his head to one side and examined her with one bright eye. "I believe I would. Thank you."

The bird-man extended the tray, gracefully, and stalked, like a stork wading through water, off toward another guest. Rena blinked and watched him go.

After a moment, it occurred to her that her mouth felt terribly dry, and she sipped her wine. It didn't taste like anything she had ever drunk before, but that was no surprise; elven feasts and fetes were full of these little subtleties. The wine was faintly sweet, with a perfume like the flowers; it tingled on the tongue, and left a crisp, refreshing aftertaste behind.

As her eyes became accustomed to the light, and she began to distinguish the servers from the guests, it seemed that there
were
no openly human servants here tonight. They had all been transformed by illusion into half-bird or half-animal creatures. Or even half-insect; she caught sight of one with huge, faceted eyes, begemmed antennae, and gently waving butterfly wings. It seemed that Lord Ardeyn
was
making a deliberate attempt to conjure up the glory days of conquest, when human slaves were never allowed into the presence of their masters without some illusion or disguise to cloak their nature.

As long as she had the wineglass in her hand, none of the tamed birds or animals would approach her; when she gave the empty glass to another half-bird servant, a fox came out of the trees and rubbed against her legs like a cat. She bent down to pet it, and it arched its back against her outstretched hand.

She would have been perfectly happy to stay at the edge of the "woods" and play with the animals—

But if Father finds me here, instead of out there, he'll be angry with me.

Glumly she accepted another glass of wine, and tossed it off without pausing to admire the taste, hoping to drink down some courage with the sparkling vintage. Then, with much reluctance, she made her way toward the center of the glade, working her way through the strolling guests in their rainbow-hued costumes with some difficulty. No one seemed to even notice she was there; she might just as well have been one of the servants.

There was a cluster of multicolored lights there, illuminating a small number of musicians and a group of people whose understated elegance told her without words that they were
very
important indeed. Only a person of supreme importance could afford to look unimportant at a gathering like this one.

Lord Tylar was among them, managing to look dignified, although Rena knew from his very faint frown that he was vexed about something.
Maybe he's annoyed that he overdressed
? Whatever it was, the frown did not clear away when she appeared, standing uncertainly just within his line of sight, so it was either something she had nothing to do with, or she
was
the cause and her mere appearance had not set things straight.