Sianim 01 - Masques

who was at last within reach of attaining a much-coveted goal. He talked to her while he walked.
    “I thought of confronting him in the castle itself, but it has been the center of so much magic that I really don’t know how this spell would affect it. I suspect that at least some of the construction of the older parts of the building was done purely by magic. Without magic, it could collapse on top of us. I don’t know about you, but I thought it might be interesting to survive long enough to find out just what the ae’Magi’s loyal followers will do to his murderers. That is, if we manage to make it that far.”
    “I’d forgotten that aspect of it,” answered Aralorn in the squeaky-soft voice that was the best her mouse form could manage. “Will his spells still be in effect when he dies?”
    “Probably not, but people will still remember how they felt. We will remain the villains of this story.” Wolf leapt easily over a small brook.
    “Oh good!” she exclaimed, holding on tightly with her forepaws. “I’ve always wanted to be a villain.”
    “I am happy to please my lady mouse.”
    “Uh, Wolf?” she asked.
    “Umm?”
    “If we’re not going to the castle, where are we going?”
    “Well,” he said, sliding down a steep section of his self-determined path, “when I lived in the castle, he had a habit of going out to meditate every night. He didn’t like to do it in the castle because he said that there were too many conflicting auras—too many people steeped in magic had lived and died there in the past thousand years or so. There is a spot just south of the moat that he used to like to use. If he doesn’t do it tonight, he probably will tomorrow.”
    Aralorn sat quietly, thinking of all the things she’d never asked him, might never get a chance to ask. “Wolf?”
    “Yes?”
    “Has your voice always been the way it is?”
    “No.” She thought that was all of the answer that she was going to get until he added, “When I woke up after melting the better part of the tower”—he pointed to one of the graceful spires that arched into the evening sky—“I found that I’d screamed so loud that I damaged my voice. It is very useful when I want to intimidate someone.”
    “Wolf,” said Aralorn, setting a paw on his ear since they were on relatively smooth ground, “not to belabor the obvious, but your voice isn’t what intimidates people. It could be the possibility that you might immolate anyone who bothers you.”
    “Do you think that might be it?” he inquired with mock interest. “I had wondered. It has been a while since I immolated anyone, after all.”
    She laughed and looked at the castle as it rose black against the lighter color of the sky. She had the funny feeling that it was watching them. She knew that it wasn’t so, but she was grateful that she was a mouse all the same, and even more grateful that she was a mouse on Wolf’s shoulders. She leaned lightly against his neck.
    She knew that they were near the place Wolf had spoken of from the tension in the muscles she balanced on. A stray wind brought the smell of the moat to cut through the smell of green things growing. It almost disguised another scent that touched her nose.
    “Wolf!” Aralorn said in an urgent whisper. “Uriah. Can you smell them?”

    He stopped completely, his dark clothes helping him to blend in. His ritual cleansing had left no human scent to betray him, only the sharp/sweet scents of herbs. Even a Uriah couldn’t track in the dark, so unless they had already been seen, they were safe for a moment. Wolf scanned with other senses to find where the Uriah were. It wasn’t hard. He was surprised that they hadn’t run into one before. His father, it seemed, had been busy. There were a lot of the things around, waiting.
    Once, he had watched a spider at her web. Fascinated he had tried to see what she thought about, waiting for her prey to become entangled in the airy threads. He got the same feeling from the Uriah. He wondered if he were the victim of this web.
    He thought about turning back. If the ae’Magi was aware that he was here, it might be better to return another time. After a brief hesitation, he shrugged and continued on with more caution. The ae’Magi knew his son well enough to know that he would be coming sometime; a surprise appearance would make no difference either way.

    Aralorn buried her face in the pathetic shield of Wolf’s shirt, trying to block out the smell. For