The Shadows of Night (6 page)

She was obviously overwrought, she decided, so that her imagination was conjuring up walls where there were none.
 

She tried to move toward the outside wall to the left of the window, but her legs struck an obstacle there, too.
 
There was definitely something in the way.

Irritated, she reached out a hand and shoved, hard.
 
The something didn’t move.

But a blasting sound erupted.

As the noise ripped through her eardrums, Katara cringed, realizing she’d tripped an alarm of some kind.
 
Below the high-pitched wailing, she heard the thud of booted feet on the stairs and realized her opportunity for escape was evaporating.
 
She looked out of the window,
then
reached outward, feeling no mysterious obstruction.
 
Jumping forward appeared to be a viable option.

There was a roof below her, but it was a good ten feet away and thirty feet down.
 
In her animal form, she wouldn’t hesitate.
 
But she wasn’t sure she could make it in her human form.
 
If she missed, she’d fall to her death.
 
And even if she made it, she could easily break a leg.
 
Thirty feet was a very long way to drop in human form.

But if she didn’t escape now, she’d be trapped in this tower, and in human form, for the rest of her life.
 

Behind her, the heavy metal door slid open.
 
She scrambled to a standing position on the ledge, gathered her legs beneath her…

And jumped.

*****

When Katara slid back into consciousness, she felt a throbbing in her skull.
 
Not as agonizing as the pain she’d felt last time, but certainly not pleasant, either.
 
It appeared she was doomed to headaches as long as she dwelt among the Antler Kindred.

She opened her eyes to see Hart looming over her, his dark eyes filled with anxiety.
 

“What happened?” she said foggily.

Some of the anxiety faded from Hart’s eyes, to be faded with irritation.
 
“You tried to jump to your death,” he said in a low growl.

She thought for a minute, trying to remember exactly what had happened.
 
“I did no such thing,” she said at last, haughtily—or as haughtily as she could manage, considering she was supine on a cold stone floor.
 
“I was attempting to jump to the roof below.”

Hart blinked at her.
 
“Are you mad?
 
It was too far away.”

“I think I could have made it.”

“In your animal form, possibly.
 
In human form?
 
Impossible.”
 
He sighed.
 
“I knew you would try something insanely reckless.
 
I
knew
it.”

“I intended to climb down the tower,” she said with dignity.

“Oh, well, that was certainly not in the least insanely reckless.”

“It wasn’t reckless!” she retorted.
 
“There were numerous handholds.
 
But I couldn’t get out of the window for some reason.”

“A force field.
 
The windows of the keep have them, to prevent children from falling to their death, or despairing lovers from taking their own lives.
 
A sensible safety precaution, designed by the Ancestors when the keep was built.
 
It also keeps out insects.”

“A force field?” she repeated, perplexed.

“You cannot see it, but it behaves like a wall.”

She was impressed by the Antlers’ ability to create such a thing, even though it had thwarted her attempt.
 
“A magic wall,” she said, unable to keep the awe from her voice.

“It is not magic.”
 
She could see condescension in his smile.
 
“It is technology handed down to us from the Ancestors.”

“I see,” she said, although she did not.
 
An invisible wall sounded like magic as far as she was concerned.
 
“Well, I was unable to get to the wall beside the window, but I could reach forward.
 
When I heard you coming, I decided to jump to the roof below.”

“So you jumped forward with a great deal of force, only to encounter another force field.”

She reached up and rubbed the aching lump on her forehead.
 
“Is that what happened?”

He nodded.
 
“There is enough space for a person to lean her head out of the window, but if you attempt to throw yourself from the window, the force field will prevent it.”

“I see.”
 
Another escape plan thwarted, she thought ruefully.
 
Getting out of the Antler keep was going to be more difficult than she had originally anticipated.

“What you tried to do was incredibly stupid.”

“It wasn’t—” She broke off, remembering the distance to the nearest rooftop far below.
 
Very well, she admitted to herself.
 
It had been stupid.

“Yes, it was indeed stupid.
 
But I had guessed you would try something, so I left you alone to discover for yourself that you cannot escape.”

Rubbing her head, she began to sit up, and he caught her other arm and helped her to a sitting position.
 
“Shall I take you back to the medical chamber?”

She cringed, remembering the sharp smells of the room.
 
“I am fine.”

“You seem all right.
 
But I will have Otwa come up and look you over, just to be on the safe side.
 
Were
anything to happen to you, my father would impale me on his antlers.”

“And that would be a terrible pity, I’m sure.”

Hart grinned at her sarcasm, lifting her into his arms and dropping her onto the circular bed in the center of the chamber.
 
He looked down at her with a mocking smile.
 
“You wound me, Claw.”

“I’d certainly like to,” she said.

Later that afternoon Katara sat at the window in her tower, the setting sun bathing her in golden rays.
 
She heard the door open behind her and didn’t bother to turn.

“Am I to be afforded no privacy?”

“It had not occurred to me that you would wish privacy.
 
Do your people not live crowded into small, one-room huts?”

At the unfamiliar voice, Katara turned to see a tall, regal woman regarding her with frank curiosity.
 
The woman wore no coronet on her head, but a heavy silver bracelet on her upper arm appeared to be constructed of interwoven antlers.
 
She guessed this was the monarch’s consort.
 
A doe, in human form.

“We live with our Pride in a longhouse,” Katara admitted.
 
“It is a bit crowded when all ten or twelve members of a Pride are inside.
 
But we spend most of our time alone in the forest.
 
It is the trees that afford us the privacy we crave.”

The woman walked into the chamber.
 
Like Hart, she moved smoothly, with the cool arrogance that befitted her station.
 
Katara stood up and took a few steps forward, standing stiffly, almost belligerently, her chin held high.

The woman walked around her in a circle as if she were an object to be studied, displaying none of the fear that had been so evident in Otwa, the old woman.
 
Perhaps she believed the collar rendered Katara helpless.

If so, she was a fool.
 
Because even in her human form, Katara was very far from helpless.

“My sons seem very impressed with you,” the doe said at last.
 
“They tore the breakfast chamber apart this morn, shifting and locking antlers as if they were in rut.”

“I did nothing to incite such behavior.
 
Indeed, I did not realize the Antler behaved thus.
 
I had always believed you prided yourselves on being civilized.”

“Rarely do our men behave so poorly.
 
Obviously you have brought out the animal in them.”

Katara let her upper lip curl back.
 
“I suppose you think that is because I am but an animal myself.”

The other woman did not flinch at her snarl.
 
“Not at all.
 
But you are a lovely woman, and they are but foolish males.”

Katara gave a disbelieving snort at the assertion that she was lovely.
 
Her hair fell loose and tangled over her shoulders, because she had not been offered a thong to tie it up with, and she wore the odd alien clothing that the Antler affected, rather than the animal skins her people wore in the cold season, or the nudity they preferred in the heat.
 
She felt far from lovely today.
 
When she looked in the mirror, she saw a stranger.

“They need not compete for my attention,” she said.
 
“Neither will ever win it.”

The woman lifted her eyebrows.
 
“You do not find either of my sons attractive?”

Katara thought of Hart, his long, golden-brown hair falling around a face of rugged masculine beauty, and her cheeks heated.

“You need not answer,” the woman said.
 
“Your expression gives you away.
 
My sons are very handsome, are they not?”

“I would sooner mate with a creature of the forest as with a member of the Antler Kindred.
 
You are weak, sniveling, leaf-eating creatures.”

The doe raised an eyebrow at her haughty tone.
 
“I see.
 
I am sorry you feel that way.
 
I wonder, is there any chance you will ever change your mind?”

Katara lifted her chin.
 
“Never.”

“Perhaps you simply don’t know us well enough to judge us.
 
Certainly I believe we don’t know you well enough to pass judgment on you.”

“I know you well enough.
 
You are keeping me prisoner, even though I have done nothing to harm any of your people.
 
It is the behavior of cowards.”

The woman dropped her gaze.
 
“Indeed,” she said softly.
 
“I have said as much to my husband, but he will not listen.”

Katara blinked in surprise.
 
It appeared she had an ally.
 
The idea that this Antler might be opposed to her captivity startled her, and she lowered her voice and spoke in a more moderate tone.
 
“I thank you for your attempt at intercession on my behalf, madam.”

“Alas, it did little good.
 
My husband can be very stubborn, and his word is law.
 
But my son Hart does not believe you should remain here, either.
 
Perhaps the two of us working together—”

Booted feet sounded on the spiral staircase, and a man Katara hadn’t seen before stepped quickly into the chamber.
 
“My lady,” he
said,
a note of stark urgency in his voice.
 
“You must hasten downstairs.
 
The prince has been injured.”

The royal consort lifted her head in a gesture that reminded Katara of a doe sniffing the breeze.
 
Her dark eyes went wide.
 
“Excuse me,” she said to Katara, and lifting her heavy skirts, ran for the staircase. Despite her years, she was fleet and graceful, just as she probably was in her animal form.
 
The man followed with heavier, more measured steps.
 
The door started to slide shut behind them.

Inspired by a sudden thought, Katara bounded toward the bed, grasped a pillow, and flung it toward the door.
 
It landed on the floor noiselessly, and the door suddenly stopped, leaving a gap of a foot or so, and slid open again.
 

No alarm sounded, and neither the guard nor the monarch’s consort looked back as they hastened down the stairs.

Katara stood there for a long moment, her heart pounding.
 
The echo of footsteps faded,
then
receded into silence.
 
At last she stalked lightly to the door—since she wore nothing on her feet, not even sandals,
her
stride was noiseless—and peered cautiously out at the small landing.
 

There was no guard.
 

Doubtless there was a guard at the foot of the staircase, but perhaps he would be distracted by the commotion.
 
If not, she was confident of her ability to render him unconscious, as long as she sneaked up behind him and struck him before he had a chance to shift form.
 
It seemed like a good chance for escape—the best she was likely to get.