Sianim 01 - Masques

endeavors.”
    “It has always amazed me how well he can blind people, even when he is not using magic to do it,” replied the wolf. He glanced at the castle, then away. His yellow eyes glistened, glowing with a light that might not all have been a reflection of the moon. He looked back again, as if he could not resist the impulse. A growl rose low in his throat, and the hair on his neck and back stiffened.
    Aralorn cautiously set a hand on his fur, smoothing it down. In all the time she’d known him, he’d always been slow to warm from his customary reserve, and though she’d seen him kill several times, she’d never seen him quite this upset. “What’s wrong?”
    The wolf quieted and lowered his head for a moment. Then he shook himself, and said softly, “Nothing. Perhaps it is the moon. I find that it sometimes has this effect on me.”
    “The moon.” She nodded solemnly. “That must be it.” She caught his gaze and raised one eyebrow. The wolf stared back at her. Aralorn gave up the contest without a fight, knowing that he was perfectly capable of continuing the stare-down all night. “Shall we go, or do you want to wait for the ae’Magi so we can destroy him and win the world back for goodness and light?”
    The wolf grinned ferally. “If we killed him, the world would be more likely to draw and quarter us than praise us as saviors. So by all means, let us make haste so as not to be forced to destroy the ae’Magi.” The sarcasm in his voice clearly dismissed any chance he thought they’d have of destroying the Archmage.
    He turned and made his way back through the brush, leaving Aralorn to follow.
    Several hundred yards from the edge of the woods, her gray stallion was tied to the trees. At their approach, he whickered a greeting. Aralorn laughed as the animal lipped the plain tunic she wore, then drew back in obvious disgust at the taste.
    “Why how did you find your way here, Sheen?” She slanted a look at the wolf, and said to him, “Thanks, I wasn’t looking forward to walking back.”
    Over the years, she’d learned not to question him too closely—mostly because he wouldn’t answer her. If he wanted to be a wolf, who was she of all people to question it? Still, the knot that attached the colorful cloth reins to the tree would have been difficult for someone with no fingers to tie.
    Aralorn untied the reins and mounted, only to dismount and shorten the stirrups. She sighed loudly as she untied the leather strings that were woven into the saddle to keep the stirrups at one length. Someone with much longer legs than hers had ridden the horse last.
    “Sheen, how many times have I told you not to give strangers a ride? You never know where they might take you.”
    She might not question him out loud, but she liked to make it obvious that it was cooperation and not stupidity.
    The wolf tilted his head to one side, and there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. She laughed and continued to unweave the strings. He’d even remembered to bring her sword and knives.
    Sometimes she thought that he might be a renegade shapeshifter, one of her mother’s people—though he lacked the gray-green eyes that were characteristic of the race. Someone more skilled than she and able to hide what he was from her. It shouldn’t be possible, but nothing he was should have been possible.
    That he was a human magician was very unlikely because human magic didn’t lend itself well to shapeshifting. Instead of blending in with the forces of nature, it sought to control them and required immense concentration that was impossible to maintain for extended periods of time. To turn oneself into an animal for a prolonged period would require the strength of the ae’Magi . . . or his son.
    Her normally deft hands faltered at their familiar task, so she stopped and gazed almost impersonally at her hands, which trembled without her consent. The mindless babbling fear threatened her as she worked her way through her suspicion. It was very unlikely that Wolf was a human mage, she reminded herself again. She glanced at the wolf and then back to her saddle. The ae’Magi’s son had disappeared six years ago. There were other green-magic users than her own people, and she’d never heard of a human mage who could take and keep an animal’s shape so long, not in all the stories she’d ever collected, ae’Magi or not. Still, her body would not release the panic it insisted on; terror was a difficult emotion to