THE geese lay in the long shadows of afternoon, gray lumps, with rustling feathers and flapping wings. I dozed, long neck tucked backward, black bill buried in my feathers. I watched the other geese through black button eyes. Soon I closed my eyes and gave myself to the peace of the flock.
Perhaps I had been a goose for too long. Perhaps it was time to become human again, but the desire was hazy. I was no longer sure why I wanted to be human. I could not quite remember the reason I had hidden myself among the geese.
I realized I was losing my human identity, but it had borne so much pain. This was better. There was food, the freedom of wings, the open sky, and the comfort of the flock. I did not remember humanity as being so simple, so peaceful, so restful. I had lost the desire to be human, and that should have frightened me. That it did not was a bad sign.
Beside me, head nearly lost in the feathers of his back, was Gyldan. That was not his real name, but a human name I had given him. One of the last things to leave was this need to name things. It was a very human trait.
In my own mind I still called myself Alatir. As long as you had a name, you were still human.
Gyldan was a young gander, but he had been with me for two seasons. He was a handsome bird; jet black, cloud gray, buff white, all markings distinct and artificial in their perfectness.
He had chosen me as his mate, but I offered only companionship. I was still human enough not to wish to bear goslings.
He had stayed with me, though there were other females who would have taken him. We had spent long summers on empty lakes, claiming our territory but never going to nest. If I did that, I would never be human again. The thought came that I wanted to be human, someday, but not today.
The children came then, peasant children with their dark hair and eyes. They came from a prosperous household, for they fed us scraps of vegetables and bread. They had almost tamed us, almost.
The oldest was a girl of about fourteen, her black hair in two thick braids around a slender face. The next oldest was a boy of perhaps eleven. The rest were all sizes, with laughing brown eyes and gentle hands.
I had flown over their father's mill many times. I had watched them help their mother in the garden and play tag in front of their house.
They came earlier by human standards, for the days were growing autumn short. By geese standards, the sun was in the same place.
The bread was day-old, crisp, and good. I remembered other bread, formed in curves and sculpted for feast days. Gyldan did not press me to share my bits of bread. He sensed my mood and knew my temper was short. There was a sound of horses riding along the road. All of us craned our necks to hear, to see danger. The oldest girl noticed it and asked us, "What's wrong?" as if we could speak.
We thundered skyward as the horses rode out beside the lake. The children were still stunned by our beating wings, afraid. The girl recovered and screamed, "Run, hide!"
The children scattered like wild things. The girl was cut off by one prancing horse, and the oldest boy would not leave her.
I circled back, Gyldan beside me. I settled at a safe distance and listened. It took magic for me to hear them, and I found the knowledge to stretch my senses came easily.
The men wore the livery of the Baron Madawc, a white bull on a background of silver, a sword through its heart. I knew Lord Madawc well. Human memories tore through my mind. Blood running between my mother's dead eyes. My father's chest ripped open, so much blood. I had been but newly made a master of sorcery when Madawc slaughtered my family and took over our lands. Five years ago, I had been a child, though a powerful one. Lord Madawc had mocked me when I challenged him to a duel. He had let me live and put a geas on me, a geas to kill him, thinking that it would surely mean my death. Having a geas-ridden child seek the death of a powerful sorcerer amused him.
So I had hidden myself in a form that the geas would not touch. My human mind roared through my animal body. I remembered. I remembered.
One soldier had placed the girl across his saddlebow. "Our lord will be pleased with this." He slapped her buttocks. She was crying.
The boy said, "Let go of my sister." Another soldier swooped down on him and carried him, struggling, to the front of his saddle. He said, "There are those at court that like a bit of little boy. You can come along if you like."
I could not let this happen, and I could not stop it as a bird. I hid myself in some reeds. Gyldan felt the magic begin. He hissed but did not leave me.
Human form was cold. I found myself crying. Crying, for the family I had forgotten. I huddled in the reeds, in the mud. My skin was pale; my black hair, waist-long. I know my eyes were blue, the pale color of spring skies.
I could pass for a lord's bastard daughter just as easily as a true aristocrat. Peasant blood was peasant blood, to some.
Gyldan touched my shivering skin with his firm beak. He croaked softly at me, and I touched his feathered head. "If I live, I will be back to say a proper good-bye, I promise."
I walked up the sloping bank toward the soldiers. He followed me on his thick, webbed feet, but he stopped before I reached the men. He launched skyward in a thrust of feathers and fear.
The soldiers saw only a naked woman walking toward them. I had grown older and was no longer a girl, but a woman. I doubted Madawc would recognize me. But because of his own magic, I was compelled to find him and slay him, if I could. Fear tightened my stomach, yet there was no time to be afraid. I had to help the children now.
"Let the children go."
"Oh yes, my lady..." They laughed.
I gestured, a bare pass of wrist and hand. The children were set upon the ground, and the soldiers said one to another, "Children--who needs children? We will take a woman to our lord." Freeing the children was their own idea now.
The children were frightened and huddled near me. I whispered to them, "Go home; do not be afraid. I may come there seeking shelter later."
The girl dropped a clumsy curtsey and said, "You are most welcome, my lady. Be careful."
I nodded, and one of the soldiers gave me his cloak as a damp autumn drizzle began to fall. It was his idea to let me ride in front of him, covered, a special gift for Lord Madawc. He was their captain, and the only one I had to control. I had been lucky that none of these soldiers was a spell caster. It would never have gone so smoothly with magic to fight.
It was miles to the castle, and by the time we arrived, the captain believed it was his idea. No magic was required to maintain my safety.
The castle gate was brilliant with torchlight. Our group was one of dozens. Many had brought children, both male and female. One little boy was perhaps six, frightfully young. He clung, crying, to the soldier that held him. The soldier looked decidedly uncomfortable. I marked him for later use, though if I needed help, it would probably be too late. Too late meant dead. I took a deep calming breath. If I panicked, I would be useless.
Somehow I would kill Madawc. Even if it meant my own death.
We were escorted through the main hall, where there was a party going on. I heard one of the soldiers murmur, "Pigs, all of them."
The captain whispered, "Don't let Madawc hear such talk. He'll skin you alive for entertainment."
Another said, "I'm leaving this foul place when my contract is up." There was a lot of head nodding.
Five years without my father to stand guard against him had not made Madawc popular.
The place smelled of spilled wine, vomit, and sex. Drunken voices, both male and female, called out bawdy suggestions. There was a young man of about fifteen, chained to the center of the room. A line of silk-clad ladies were taking turns with him.
I turned away, and the captain jerked me roughly forward. Fear knotted in my belly, and for the first time I felt naked under the cloak. I had magic, but so did Madawc, and he had beaten me before.
The little boy was given over to an older man. The soldier looked near tears himself as he pried the boy's fingers from him. The old noble offered the child
sweetmeats and held him softly. He would gain the child's confidence first. I recognized Lord Trahern. He had been thrown out of my father's court for being a child-lover.
The captain led me by the arm through the crowd. Hands pulled at the cape, saying, "A beauty, did you taste her before you brought her here?"
He ignored them and went to the front table. Madawc had not changed, except to grow thicker around the middle. His black hair was dark as any peasant's, but his eyes were the cool blue of autumn skies.
Anger flashed through me warm and whole. Hatred. Memories. My mother's cries for help. Her screams, "Run, Alatir, run!" But there had been no place to run. I needed no geas to want him dead.
The captain went down on one knee and pulled me down as well. We waited, kneeling, faces hidden from the man. Would Madawc recognize me? I was afraid and didn't try to hide it. I was just another victim, a bit of meat. I was supposed to be afraid. Finally, Madawc said, "Yes, what is it?"
"A special treat for you, Lord Madawc." He pulled my head back, so my face showed.
Madawc said, "Ah, blue eyes. Did you find another one of my own bastards for me?"
"I believe so, my lord."
He smiled and traced my face with his hand. "Lovely. You have done well, Captain. I am pleased." He held out a ruby and gold ring. The captain bowed and took it. I was left kneeling.
Madawc pulled aside the cloak. It fell to the floor. I hunched forward, using my long hair as a screen. Fear thudded in my throat. He laughed. "Naked, all pleasures bare, as I like my women. And modest, I like that as well." He touched my breast, and I jerked away with a small gasp. I would not let him touch me. I would destroy myself first. No, the geas would not allow that. I had to try to kill him. But I could not perform death-magic here and now. He was not drunk; he would break my concentration long before I completed a spell. I could damage him but not kill him. I needed to get away from him; I needed time.
It came to me then what I needed to do. I had been too long away from the nobility; I had forgotten how silly even the best of them could be. Even Madawc, tainted as he was, would not refuse challenge, especially from a woman he had defeated before.
I draped the cloak around my shoulders and said, "I am Alatir Geasbreaker, as you named me. Daughter of Garrand and Allsun." I stood, cloaked in deepest blue and the mane of black hair. I was ivory skin and eyes of sapphire. I felt the magic of true challenge flow through me, born of anger, righteousness, and five years of magic almost untapped. Fear was gone in a rush of magic.
Madawc knocked his chair backward to scrape along the marble floor. "What trick is this?"
"No trick, Madawc of Roaghnailt. I am Alatir Geasbreaker, and I challenge you to battle."
If it had been another who was trained in sword as well as magic, it would have been a foolish challenge. I knew nothing of weapons, but neither did Madawc. He was of the belief that magic was always enough. Now we would see.
A hush ran through the throng. They turned eyes to their honored lord. He could not refuse, for to do so, even in front of this silken rabble, would be to lose all honor. A lord without honor did not get invited to the king's courts. A lord without honor became the butt of songs by bards known for their comedic talents and biting wit.
I was remembering what it meant to be human and a Meltaanian noble.
"I accept challenge, of course, but you cannot be Alatir, daughter of Garrand. I put a geas on you that would have forced you to kill me years ago."
"It was your spell. Test it; see if it still holds me."
I felt a tentative wash of magic, a mere butterfly's wing of power. "You bear my spell, but how have you hidden from it?"
"Shapeshifting, Madawc. Even as a child, shapeshifting was my best spell, and animal cannot answer geas."
"What brought you back?"
"You called me. You might say, I am what you made me: someone who hates you, someone who has to kill you, at risk of her own life if necessary. I am under geas to see you stretched dead before me."
His jaw tightened; the shock and fear were gone. "I defeated you once, easily. I will do so again. This time I will not leave you alive."
"This time," I said, "you will not have the chance."
Meltaanians love spectacle more than anything. In short order, torches were set in a circle outside the castle grounds. You never let sorcerers fight within walls. The walls had a tendency to tumble down. Even that thought did not frighten me. The magic of challenge still held me safe. Fear was a muted thing, for now.
One of the ladies had found me a dress to wear. It was blue silk and matched my eyes. My hair was braided down my back and threaded with silver ribbons. Silver was echoed at bodice, sleeve, and dress front. It was a very simple dress by Meltaanian standards, but the people needed to be impressed, needed to remember what was about to happen.
Madawc faced me in black, run through with silver threads. He glittered like ice in the sun when he moved. He spoke to me as we stood, waiting. "You are Alatir."
"Did you doubt it?"
"I thought you long dead."
"You thought wrongly."
He gave a half bow, a strange self-mocking smile on his face. "I think, dear lady, that you are some lovely phantom come to haunt me."
"I am flesh and blood and magic."
Magic grew in the circle of torches. Magic ran along my skin and tugged at my hair, like an unseen wind. I called sorcery to me but did not want to commit its shape to any one spell. I wanted to know the measure of the man I fought. In my terror, he had been twelve feet tall, an endless fountain of magic. Now he was a man, and I was no longer a child.
Fire exploded around me, orange death. The air was choking, close, heat. The fire died, and I stood safe behind a shield. Lightning flared from his hands. The bolts struck my shield and shattered in an eye-blinding display of light.
I faded inside my shield, willing myself into another shape. I was small, thin, hidden in the grass. A green adder hidden in the uncertain torchlight.
I could feel the vibration as he moved over the earth, but I could hear his puzzled voice asking, "Where is she?"
I felt his magic wash over me, searching, but I was a snake and had no real business with magic. He did not come too near the empty folds of the silk dress, but I slipped out a sleeve hole and began moving cautiously, thin and hidden, toward him.
I was a small snake and could not bite through his boots. As he passed me, put his back to me, I grew. I was an older snake, thick as a man's wrist. There were gasps from the audience. He turned, puzzled, and I struck. He screamed as my fangs tore his flesh, poison pumping home. His struggles flung me away to lie half stunned in the grass.
I began to shapeshift, slowly. He was yelling, "Get me a healer, now!"
A soldier, the one who had brought in the littlest boy, said, "You cannot be healed until the fight is over, Lord Madawc. That is the rule."
"But I've been poisoned!"
The mercenaries whom he had bullied and made into whoremongers formed a wall of steel. "You will not leave the circle until the fight is done. Isn't that right, Captain?"
The captain, who had brought me in, didn't have a problem with Madawc, but he licked his lips and agreed. He knew better than to go against all his men. "You must wait for healing, Lord Madawc."
"I will see you all flogged for this, no, hanged!"
It was the wrong thing to say. The soldiers' faces went grim, dispassionate. They waited for someone to die.
I stood naked and human once more. All I had to do was stay alive until the poison took effect, and that wouldn't be long.
Madawc turned on me with a snarl. "I'll take you with me, bitch!"
He formed a soul-beast, made of magic, hatred, and fear. It was a great wolf that glowed red in the night.
I had never made a soul-beast before. It took great strength, and if it was destroyed, the spell caster died with it. I formed mine of power, vengeance, the memory of five years of unused magic, the quiet stillness of water,
and the freedom of skies. It flowed blue and burst into being a moment before the wolf leapt. Mine was a thing of feathers and claws, no known beast.
I felt the power as never before. I rode the winds of it. It lifted me in a dance of death and joy. I was fanged claws and whirling feathers of gold and sapphire. I bit the wolf and raked his sides with claws. I bled under his teeth and staggered under the weight of his body.
The wolf began to fade. As it lost substance, I gained its magic. I drew its power like a hole in Madawc's soul; I drained him until I fell to my knees, power drunk, stunned.
The soul-beasts were gone. It was effort to turn my head and see Madawc on the grass. His body convulsed, and bloody foam ran from his lips. The green adder is a deadly thing.
I was stronger than five years ago, but all those years had been without training. Madawc might have killed me without the aid of poison. Then again, he might not.
The geas was gone, and I felt pure and empty of it. I had expected triumph; instead I felt relief, and a great empty sadness.
A voice declared the match over and Alatir the winner. There were hands, a cloak thrown over my nakedness, the warmth of healing magic, and a warm draught of tea.
Dawn light found me rested, healed, and in the bedchamber that had once belonged to Madawc. By Meltaanian law it was all mine now, both my father's lands which had been stolen and Madawc's. Madawc had never bothered to appoint an heir from his many bastards. No royalty would marry him.
There was a knock on the door, and the captain entered with the mercenary who had brought the little boy in. They both knelt, and the captain said, "My lady, what would you like for us to do? We have weeks left on our contract, and our contract is now yours, if you want it."
I asked, "Have you a guard outside my door?"
The younger man spoke. "Yes, my lady, some of the dead lord's friends are less than pleased at the duel's outcome."
I smiled at that. "Is Lord Trahern still within these walls?"
"No, my lady."
I ignored the captain and asked the other man, "What is your name?"
"I am Kendrick Swordmated."