I wonder if I could change my own shape, the ears and the eyes anyway, the way I changed my birds? she thought. Better not try right now, though. It’s probably a very bad idea, with all the other things I’m doing with my magics. If she lost control over the alicorns—
Best not to add one more ball to the lot she already was juggling.
She looked off to her right, and saw with relief that the sun was near the horizon. It would be time to stop soon.
“We should talk about when we want to leave the alicorns,” he called back to her. ‘Tonight.”
“After I make supper,” she replied. She would literally be “making” supper out of the plants they would gather—and she would make some sweet treats to ensure that the alicorns would come back after their hunt.
That was another reason she was so tired. The entire burden of their food supply rested on her slim shoulders, and she had never worked so much magic before this. She’d never realized it would tire her out so much, the more so the farther along they were.
“I wish the alicorns were “enough like hounds that you could get them to bring us something back,” he said wistfully.
He was probably as weary of grass-cake and stewed grass as she was.
But—
The recollection of the mare returning one night, with not only blood on her muzzle, but a shred of what could have been cloth stuck in her teeth, made her do more than shiver. There had been a hunter on their trail until then, and Rena had been wishing that the alicorns could drive him off. Had the mare somehow sensed her wishes and followed through on them in her own way? She didn’t know, and probably never would know, but the hunter had certainly disappeared after that night.
“I don’t,” she said with a shiver. “I don’t.”
Caellach Gwain surveyed his audience with satisfaction. So far, he had most of the oldest and most senior of the wizards behind him—even those who had not cared to speak out before were more willing to show their true feelings now that Shana was gone.
Caellach only hoped she would stay away forever. Without her egging them on, the youngsters were not so sure of themselves or of their powers. Only her “inner circle” continued in their impudent defiance of authority, and they were kept so busy denuding the old Citadel that they had little time for mischief among the others.
“I’ll tell you how I’ve been getting my proper help back,” Caellach told the others. “I started with the humans. They’re so used to taking orders from anyone that looks even vaguely like an authority that they never once question me, they just go and do what I tell them to.” He frowned slightly. “Granted, they’re bare children, but even children can pick up after me or fetch my dinner.”
“Doesn’t anyone ever come looking for them?” ventured one of the others.
Caellach shrugged. “Maybe, but they never come looking in my quarters. I suppose whoever’s in charge of these brats must think they’re sneaking off to play. I just tell them that they are to say that a wizard had important tasks for them, and that seems to take care of the matter.”
He doubted, in the confusion that the new Citadel represented, that anyone had missed the children he borrowed from the work crews. There was a veritable swarm of human and wizard children, and children were of very little use at anything requiring strength or stamina. That left only what he would call “household chores,” and why should they not be using their time properly in serving a single master rather than gathering reeds or some other such nonsense?
He said as much, and the other nodded sagely.
“Pick out the frightened ones,” he advised, “the ones that try not to be seen, that shrink away into shadows and corners when they get the chance. They’re the most tractable, and the least likely to be missed. And think—if they’re that shy, we’ll be doing them a favor, keeping them away from crowds! Without a doubt, those children need a firm hand, someone to give them specific orders so they don’t have to think.” He lifted a sardonic eyebrow at one of the others who looked a bit doubtful. “Children should not think, anyway. They aren’t equipped to think. They should learn, listen, and obey.”
“I suppose you’re right,” the wizard said, a bit doubtfully. “But still—”‘
“Oh, don’t get sentimental over them, they’re only human” snapped someone else, before the dissenter could come up with anything concrete to base his objections on. “It’s not as if they’re ever going to be of any real use to the Citadel except as servants! Better they learn that little fact now, while there’s time to train them in their proper place!”
More heads nodded agreement, and the dissenter subsided. Caellach took control of the meeting again.
“That’s not the only reason I asked you all here,” he said, in a low and confidential tone. “We really need to do something about the state of things here.”
“State of things?” one of the oldest quavered indignantly. ‘Travesty, you mean! Young brats carrying on as if they were senior—seniors being forced to fetch their own meals and sweep their own floors—” His unsteady voice rose, full of unsteady wrath. “No respect! No proper conduct! No regard for custom! That’s what’s wrong here! I was willing to put up with nonsense while we were out there.” He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the mouth of the caverns. “You expect a certain amount of disorganization and slackness when there’s no real structure to living, so to speak. But now, now we’re living in proper quarters, and things should go back to the way they were! It was good enough for our forebears, by heaven, and it should be good enough for us!”
A rumble of ill-tempered agreement arose from the rest, and Caellach rubbed his hands together with glee. Better and better—the complaint hadn’t come from him—and they all agreed with it!
But he held up a cautionary hand as the rumble grew louder. “I agree, I agree—but we mustn’t be precipitous here! We may realize this is what’s best for the Citadel and all wizards, but those proud little brats of Lashana’s think they know better, and they have the dragons to back them up!”
At the mention of the dragons, the rumble faded into uncertain silence. He hastened to reassure them.
“It isn’t impossible to put things right again,” he told them firmly. “It is simply going to take time. We must be cautious, and lay our plans with care. Eventually the dragons will become bored with us and find other pastimes. Or—Lashana might not return, and they will go out looking for her. A hundred things could happened to tilt the balance to our side, and we must be ready to act when the time comes, act decisively and quickly.”
He had them again, leaning forward, listening to every word he said. He allowed himself a slight smile.
“We must all go and think on these things,” he told them. “I will call another meeting in a few days, and I would like to hear your ideas at that point.” He met each of their eyes in turn, and got nods, some thoughtful, some determined, from all of them.
That was close enough to a dismissal that they soon drifted out, by ones and twos, some talking and some silent. Caellach waited until they were all gone, struggling to keep his feelings of triumph from showing too plainly on his face.
Now it was all just a matter of time. And when that young pest Lashana did return—If she did—she would find things changed, and not to her liking!
Two days later, they reached the plain itself; there was no sign of an alicorn herd, nor of the wizards. Lorryn elected to stay with their mounts as long as possible, and the alicorns themselves dropped abruptly from the fast pace they had set to the normal walking pace of a horse. They no longer hunted at night, and Rena found them eating nothing more sinister than grass and the treats she made for them. It was easier to keep them gentle, too, and between that and the easier pace, she began to recover from the grueling marathon of their escape.
Lorryn was certainly in his element She didn’t think she had ever seen him so happy. His hair was a wild mop, his clothing as threadbare as the lowest slave’s, and he didn’t look anything like the cultured elven lord he’d been—but there was a light in his eyes she didn’t ever remember seeing before. “I’m not sure if I care whether we find the wizards now or not,” he called back to her, on the third afternoon of riding through the waist-high grasses. “I could live like this forever. Think of it! As free as a hawk in the sky, no one telling us where to go or what to do—”