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  The wind carried a myriad of scents to him. He lifted his head, then chose one that promised the sweet meat of a gazelle. But as he turned, something tapped his chest, and he remembered.

  Kaen’s signet. His duty.

  He reshaped his hunger toward a purpose. The sorcerer was in a city, in the direction from which the sun rose. Did a sorcerer’s blood taste any different than that of other men?

  Ryuan went eastward.

  He didn’t know how far away it was but he could have run forever, he thought, with his prey fixed in his mind and instincts. The sight of walls stopped him as nothing else could have.

  The villagers had spoken truly. The sorcerer was building a city. He couldn’t tell how many people or buildings might be within, but the walls were tall and made of stone and impossibly smooth. Raised by sorcery, of course.

  Ryuan approached cautiously. There would be a way in somewhere. He caught hints of the presence of men and went that way. He reached the gate, but it made him halt as much as the walls had.

  A short line of people waited before the gate, and two guards with swords. One of the sentries was arguing with a man holding a mule’s halter, while the other seemed to be talking to each person who sought entrance. Ryuan stayed low and crept closer to listen, forcing himself to concentrate so that he could make out human speech. “And what’s your talent?” the guard was asking.

  It seemed only sorcerers could enter the city.

  Ryuan backed away and began circling the walls in frustration. He didn’t want to attack two armed men who might be innocent of anything more than gullibility. He had changed too soon. He would have to go back and fetch his clothes, then arrive as a man and somehow trick his way in. And he had never been good at dissembling. Perhaps there would be a postern somewhere.

  He found, instead, another man.

  He was gray-haired but still strong-bodied, testing the wall as though for any cracks or protrusions. Ryuan cared little about the man and focused instead on his clothes—plain garb and a voluminous hooded cloak. He would take the man’s garments, he decided. It wouldn’t harm him.

  He was gathering himself to spring forward when the man turned around. Ryuan lurched and then stayed back.

  The man nodded companionably to Ryuan and held out a hand. Ryuan’s senses pricked. He knew that scent. It was not that of a man.

  Wolf-born.

  “Cousin,” the other said.

  Ryuan had never met another one of his kind. The other seemed so familiar, even though they had never met before.

  “I am Nerav. You know what I am.”

  Ryuan did not want to be human—and vulnerable—before this one. He was stronger and swifter and had sharper senses as a wolf. Perhaps it was discourteous not to exchange introductions, but he didn’t understand the situation and preferred to keep the advantage. It would take the other a moment to shift, and for another second he would still be tangled in his clothing, and in that second Ryuan could be upon him.

  “You will not greet your own cousin?” Nerav sighed. “You were raised by humans, I remember.”

  There was a host of questions Ryuan wanted to ask him, but more important was the mission Kaen had given him. He did not know how the other wolf-born would affect it.

  “If you’re going to stay in wolf-shape…” Nerav regarded him thoughtfully. “I think that, together, we may be able to breach this wall. You too want to reach the sorcerer inside?”

  That much had to be obvious. Ryuan pawed the earth once. Yes.

  “An alliance, then, so that we can achieve this.”

  Ryuan watched him warily, not responding.

  Nerav sat, folding his legs, hands upon his knees in a display of harmlessness. “I’ve waited many years for a single sorcerer. I will be patient with you, cousin, though you mistrust me.”

  Ryuan whined and tried to convey his question. Why?

  “You must know how the wolf-born feel toward sorcerers. They made us to be their perfect soldiers, then forced us to fight their wars. They created us so we could die in their power games. After the Law of Century…” He smiled, not pleasantly. “It was they who died. Those of us who are left seek them out, and take our revenge.”

  Ryuan, listening to the undercurrents in the other’s voice, did not doubt his hatred. He could trust that, he decided. They had a common enemy.

  He came forward and touched his nose to Nerav’s hand.

  Nerav released a long breath. “It is good, cousin. You will need to stay in this shape. But you will have to take that off.” He reached forward and lightly took hold of the chain with the signet Kaen had given him.

  It did make him recognizable, but he was loathe to remove it. It was part of his identity—it was how people knew him. But he let the other wolf-born lift it over his head.

  “I will wear it for safekeeping, and return it to you as soon as it is safe to do so,” Nerav said, although something in his expression told Ryuan that he scorned the way he valued a mere material object. He tucked it under his shirt so that it wasn’t visible, then stood and began walking back the way Ryuan had come.

  Ryuan set aside his misgivings and followed.

  They made their way to the gate. The line was gone, but the man with the mule was still trading cross words with one guard. The other looked up at their approach.

  “Do you have one of the old gifts?” he asked.

  Nerav smiled. “I have some power over animals,” he said.

  The guard seemed interested. “Show me.”

  “He’s not enough?” Nerav let a hand rest atop Ryuan’s head. Ryuan did his best to look docile. Not snapping off Nerav’s hand at the wrist seemed sufficient.

  “Could be a dog,” the guard decided.

  Ryuan carefully did not growl, although that would probably cure the misimpression. Nerav was unfazed. He nodded toward the mule. “I’ll make it run off,” he said. As he walked closer to it, Ryuan noted that he was upwind of the beast.

  The mule’s nostrils flared, and then it wheeled and fled, braying. Its owner cursed, making a late grab for the lead rope, but the guard laughed appreciatively. “All right. Go in and see Lord Tamel.”

  “My thanks.” Nerav started in.

  “But the dog will have to remain here,” the guard said.

  Nerav stopped, despite Ryuan’s inclination to simply continue moving. “He needs to stay with me.”

  “You can control it, right? Just tell it to stay around here and not make any trouble. Orders are for no animals to be allowed in until they get checked out.”

  Ryuan could feel Nerav’s hesitation. Protests would cast doubt upon his lie. Nerav gave him a pat, outwardly a command, but in truth an apology. “Stay here,” he said, then in the merest murmur, “Keep your senses sharp for other sorcerers.”

  There was one in particular Ryuan hunted. For this other wolf-born to come and cut him off from his prey was infuriating. But Kaen would want to know more about this city, and it was true that other sorcerers could pose as much of a threat.

  Reluctantly, Ryuan dropped to his haunches.

  “It will be strange to hunt in a city,” Nerav said. “I would have welcomed a pack-mate.” Then he rose and began walking in the direction that the guard gestured him toward.

  At first the guard kept a wary eye on him and Ryuan felt obligated to sit meekly. But too many newcomers were intimidated by even his presence despite the guard’s easy explanations that he was an ensorcelled dog, and eventually the guard came over to him and said, “Move over there,” making helpless shooing motions.

  Ryuan obligingly went to the shaded area indicated, a little further inside the gate and not in direct eyesight of anyone entering.

  The guard looked pleased with himself. “You’re not so obvious here,” he said. “Just don’t wander off.” He scratched Ryuan behind the ears.

  Ryuan suffered this treatment silently. When the guard returned to his post, he had every intention of wandering off.

  But as he rose, a sh
ort-haired woman passed him. He paused, because upon reflection, he hadn’t seen anyone leaving the city. She was the first one heading toward the gates from inside.

  She addressed the guard. “Any interesting newcomers?”

  The woman’s voice held an authority that arrested Ryuan. He sat and cocked an ear their way.

  The guard shrugged. “A fire-starter, and a girl who can shape stone with her hands.”

  “That should be useful while we build our city,” the woman said. “You told her to talk to Tamel?”

  “Yes. Oh, and a man who controls animals. He made a mule run off.” He chuckled at the memory.

  The woman didn’t share his amusement. “Who would use his power over beasts to send one away, instead of bringing it to him tame? Especially a mule.” Her voice turned wry.

  Despite his dismay over her astuteness, Ryuan grinned to himself. She was right—overcoming a mule’s stubbornness would have been truly impressive.

  “He did that too,” the guard protested. “He had a wolf by his side.” No mention of a dog now.

  The woman’s puzzlement turned to alarm. “A wolf? You fool!”

  Ryuan began to casually lope away, keeping to the shadows of the buildings.

  “It’s been calm for hours,” the guard said. “It’s right over there—it’s running off—”

  The woman shouted, “Wolf-born!”

  It was against his instincts to run, but the man in him overrode the wild-mind. There were too many people in too enclosed a space. So he fled, predator turned prey, hoping there was some other way out of the city or at least a place to hide, though he snarled at the thought of cowering.

  No man had ever hunted him before. Even if one were so mad as to try to take on a wolf, none had dared the prince’s wrath with his signet so visible. But it was gone now, and he was not so sure it would avail him with these folk, who followed a sorcerer.

  He dashed around a corner and heard the shouts fade. But there was one set of footsteps still following. He knew without looking that it was the woman who had identified him.

  The earth before him suddenly cracked apart. Ryuan tried to leap aside, but the ground beneath his paws crumbled. He changed, reaching for solid ground with his hands, but his fingers found no purchase and he fell into darkness.

  Chapter Five

  Calanthe still remembered her first sight of him. It was seared under her eyelids, and she saw it whenever she did not guard against it, in unwary dreams. Sometimes it also came to her waking, whenever she drew water from a well, the coarseness of the rope in her hands forever linked with the image of him, four seasons ago.

  She had known he would come and prepared herself for it, but she hadn’t known that he would look like this, dark and sinewy, his body hard with muscle and sheened with sweat and utterly bared to her gaze. His face was grim-set, the heavy brows slanted over eyes that were gold and hard as amber, and they trapped her just as surely.

  She wanted to make those eyes light in laughter.

  Everyone spoke of the prince’s hunter as though describing the deepest of dreads. She had her own reason for fearing him, but not for her own sake. She was supposed to misdirect him from Tamel’s trail. Looking at this road-weary man, with wolf’s prints behind him and a mouth that must seldom smile, she thought he needed a great deal more distraction.

  Calmly, she’d offered him water. He cupped his hands, large and not as roughened as she thought they should be with the many miles that must have passed under them as wolves’ paws. She was curious how they would feel upon her. As he drank, she studied the lines of his face, spare and harsh but still compelling in some feral way. It was better, she thought wryly, than letting her gaze wander down his body as she wanted.

  He thanked her with all the courtesy he might offer one of the ladies in the capital. The courtesy undid her, when she had expected something brusque. So she tested words, casual ones she would offer any traveler. “You’ve been on a long road.”

  There was an immediate change in him—something coiling inside, ready to spring. “You know who I am?”

  How couldn’t she, with that signet proclaiming his identity? “The prince’s hunter,” she said. “Lord Ryuan. No other man would be fool enough to wear that.” She couldn’t help adding, “And nothing else.”

  He didn’t take her to task for her pertness. Instead, he asked her name.

  “Calanthe.”

  Past and present blurred for a moment; then she realized that Tamel was summoning her. “Yes,” she said, although she lingered a moment longer at the well. She wished it were Ryu calling for her.

  “Calanthe!” Tamel said again, more sharply this time. “There’s someone you should meet.”

  She turned to see Tamel and a man standing next to him in the courtyard. She was tired of these introductions and she didn’t bother to smile. He was always trying to have her interact more with the people who came here, insisting she meet them as they arrived. But she was no sorceress. She was here in this city on Tamel’s sufferance. There wasn’t any point in trying to fit in.

  “Calanthe, this is Nerav,” Tamel said. “He has one of the old gifts, with animals.”

  “Delighted, I’m sure,” she said, and started to turn away.

  Tamel seized her elbow. “A moment,” he said to the newcomer, flicking his fingers so that a wind leapt up to blow away their words before they could be overheard.

  He used sorcery so casually now. They could have simply stepped farther away.

  He searched her face. “Calanthe, are you well?”

  “Never more hale,” she assured him.

  “No, I mean…” He ran his hand through his hair. She had always been able to tell when he felt particularly troubled because his hair would be disarrayed. Once, she would have smoothed it back for him. “You spend too much time at simple tasks, like fetching water from the well.”

  That was the only one she lingered at, actually.

  “You hardly speak to anyone but me,” he went on. “This city will be our home, Calanthe.”

  “I know what this city means to you,” she said. She didn’t know how long he had repressed his use of sorcery from fear of the Law of Century, but ever since he had used it that once, one year ago, and faced no repercussions, he had become determined to establish a place where no one had to experience the fear he had.

  “I want it to mean something to you, too, even though you have no gift. You need to meet the others who will be living here with us. I don’t want you to be lonely.”

  “That’s why you insist on introducing every young man who comes?” she asked, but she was smiling. “Tamel, you needn’t worry. I just don’t need anyone right now. Besides, I like Iril.”

  Tamel never believed her. Calanthe had surprised herself by coming to enjoy the company of his current lover. But of course she wasn’t jealous, not when her dreams yearned for Ryuan. In foolish, wistful dreams she had called him my heart, and he had smiled and said beloved.

  She couldn’t tell Tamel, though. How to let her former lover know that she loved the man who had hunted him? She couldn’t tell him how her nights had become empty without Ryuan to shape them around.

  But the knowledge had burrowed into the deepest recesses of her being, where she didn’t have to face it. And Tamel’s concern touched her enough for her to yield this once. “I’ll show this Nerav about the city.”

  He smiled and kissed her cheek. “My thanks.” Not for taking on the task, but for humoring him. He made a twisting motion with his hand and the wind died.

  As he left, she turned to Nerav and actually looked at him for the first time. He seemed strangely familiar, for all that she was sure she had never met him before. Something in his stance… The task she had resigned herself to doing became slightly more interesting.

  “Where are you from?” she asked.

  He didn’t seem to mind all the consultation that had been necessary before she acquiesced to serving as his guide. “My people are wanderers.
They live off the land instead of in settlements.”

  “But you chose to come to a city?”

  He smiled. “This is where the sorcerers are.”

  A pat answer. Perhaps he would open up more later. “Come, I’ll show you your way so you won’t get too lost,” she said. She led Nerav into the dusty street. “This will be paved one day. There aren’t enough folk who work with stone, and Tamel says it’s more important to have more buildings. Most of them are empty, though. Word is only trickling out.”

  “What is your talent?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t have one.”

  “You’re not a sorceress?”

  “No. Tamel tried to find any hint of talent in me, but there’s none. I didn’t even know he was a sorcerer when I first met him.”

  Nerav digested this. “What are you to him, then?”

  “Former lover,” she said lightly. “I helped him once, a year ago, and he’s still grateful.”

  “Most people without sorcery despise those who have it,” he said, looking at her curiously.

  And most people feared the wolf-born. She had never been one to follow others’ judgments. “People don’t choose what they’re born with,” she said. “It’s the choices they make that matter. Do you know how I discovered Tamel was a sorcerer? He killed a man by fire. But the man he killed was a bandit who was threatening us. How can I blame him for that?”

  “And you agree with Tamel’s choice to build this city?”

  “I think he’s mad,” she said frankly. “But it’s true that Prince Kaen has done nothing about it. And there are those with harmless talents who need a haven from those who, as you say, despise them.”

  It had taken Tamel a few seasons to decide to build the city. At first she had been glad when he spoke of settling in one place. She was tired of running. He was always sensing danger—someone was stalking them, he claimed, even after the prince’s hunter had returned to the capital. She had secretly hoped that somehow Ryu was tracking them, following her. But he had never come.