Sianim 02 - Wolfsbane

“Absolutely. First, let me say that I do not accept your apology, as I’m certain that you intended every frustrating minute of our last meeting—and enjoyed it as well. Devious and manipulative, your father said.”
    He sobered, and Aralorn thought it might be sadness that crossed his face. “But—despite what I have been told, having the father you do, you could not be without honor and decency. I hope that a productive talk might shed some light on a few things. I think that I, too, have some things to tell you that it were better to talk of outside these walls.” He paused, and continued softly. “You might bring your wolf.”
    Aralorn nodded. “I’m sure Wolf will join us at some point in our journey. Father’s got enough animals around here that you shouldn’t have a problem finding a mount: I assume by the speed of your arrival that you chose to translocate yourself—”
    She didn’t know why she’d brought that up until she realized she was watching his face for guilt. There was none, of course; he hadn’t realized what Geoffrey had done to her after Kisrah had used his magic to transport her into the ae’Magi’s care.
    Instead, Kisrah nodded, with a faint grimace of distaste. “Not my favorite spell, but it was important that I get here as soon as possible.
    “You’re a braver man than I am,” murmured Aralorn. “I’ll meet you in the stables. Ask Falhart if you need help finding warm clothing.”

    Aralorn had intended to take him only a short distance before stopping to talk, but she hadn’t counted on the wind. It kicked up when they were just out of sight of the keep.
    The voices screamed through her ears: screams that brought visions of Geoffrey’s dungeons and dying children, the cries of the Uriah—shambling, rotting things that had once been human but now only hungered. Sheen picked up on her agitation and began snorting and dancing in the snow, mouthing his bit uncertainly as he waited for an ambush to leap from the nearest bush.
    Hoping that the wind would settle down, she kept going. At this rate, they’d be at the temple before she could talk. She tried to ignore the wind for as long as she could, but at last she tucked the reins under her knees and tugged a woolen scarf from around her neck and wrapped it tightly around her ears.
    “Are you all right?” asked Kisrah.
    “I seem to have developed a bit of a problem with the wind,” she said truthfully: She tried to limit her lies when she could, especially when she was talking to wizards.
    “Earache?” said Kisrah with some sympathy.
    “I’m looking for someplace less windy,” she told him. “I hadn’t planned on riding all the way to the goddess’s temple for a little private conversation.”
    He smiled. “I could do with a little exercise anyway. But if you can find a sheltered place I might be able to do something about the wind.”
    She frowned at him. “You human mages,” she said. “Always so ready to impose your will where it doesn’t belong. There’s a small valley not too far from here; we’ll be free from the wind without any magic at all.”
    He looked startled for a moment. “I’ve never been referred to in quite those terms. Do you not think of yourself as human, then?”
    She smiled tightly, her tension owing more to the wind than any irritation with him. “No. But I won’t use the terms my shapeshifter cousins use for mageborn who use unformed magic. They aren’t flattering. Human will have to do.”
    As she’d thought it might, the steep sides of the valley—well, gully, really—provided some relief from the wind. Aralorn stopped Sheen and cautiously removed the scarf from her ears. The roar had died to a dull whisper she could safely ignore.
    “Why don’t you start, as you still owe me for your rudeness yesterday?” said Kisrah after he’d stopped and turned his horse so he faced her directly.
    “All right,” agreed Aralorn readily. “How much do you know about charismatic spells?”
    “What?” he asked in some surprise, but he answered her question without waiting for her to repeat herself. “I’ve never heard of one that was not black magic.”
    “Yes,” said Wolf from behind them, “they are. Of the blackest kind.”
    Aralorn turned to frown at Wolf. He was supposed to wait until she’d made certain that Kisrah wouldn’t attack him on sight. She supposed that it said something about Kisrah’s state of mind that he did not.
    Wolf was in human form, clothed