Sianim 02 - Wolfsbane

snow.”

TEN

    Aralorn was slipping choice bits of mutton to Wolf when Falhart came up behind her.
    “If Irrenna catches you feeding that wolf at the table, she’s likely to banish him outside,” he said.
    She shook her head, holding down another piece. “As long as we’re discreet, she’ll leave him in peace. She doesn’t want a hungry wolf roaming the castle. He’ll just go into the kitchens to be fed—and there she’ll be, without a spit boy. It might take the cook several days to replace whomever he ate, not to mention the fuss.”
    Falhart gave Wolf a wary glance, then began to laugh. “Scourge on you, Aralorn, if you didn’t have me believing it. Which brings me to my mission. I have a half dozen youngsters and a few not so young who’ve been approaching me all dinner to see if you would give us another story.”
    “An audience,” said Aralorn, scraping the last of her dinner onto a small bit of bread and popping it into her mouth. “See, Wolf, some people appreciate me.”
    He didn’t seem to hear her, lost in thought as he’d been since they’d gotten back. If she could take back what she’d said to Kisrah, she would have—not that Kisrah didn’t need to hear it. She would have bitten her tongue off, leaving Kisrah believing his version of Geoffrey ae’Magi the rest of his life, rather than hurt Wolf.
    Despite his apparent disinterest, Wolf trailed her as she left to greet her audience and made himself comfortable at her feet.
    Kisrah was not there, though she knew he’d returned from their ride. She didn’t see Gerem, either, but Freya and Nevyn were seated on a bench against the wall, just close enough to hear.
    She chose her story primarily for Wolf, something light and happy that should appeal to the rest of her audience as well. As laughter warmed the room better than any winter fire, Wolf rested his head on her lap with a sigh.

    When Aralorn awoke the following morning, she found a red-tailed hawk perched on the back of a chair near the fireplace, preening its feathers. Wolf was gone.
    “For a man who was worried about showing himself among humans, you certainly are volunteering your time generously,” she said severely.
    The hawk fluttered his feathers noisily into place. “He said you’d probably be grumpy when you woke up. I can’t say I approve of your choice of mates, niece.”
    “Your own choice being superior,” she said.
    The hawk bobbed its head and squawked with laughter, and the chair rocked dangerously beneath him. “True, true,” Halven chortled as he settled back down.
    “Wolf told you we were married?” asked Aralorn.
    “Yes, child,” said the hawk. “And he asked me to tell you to amuse yourself. He’s off to find the ae’Magi.”
    “Did he say which one?” Aralorn stretched. It had taken Wolf a long time to get to sleep last night even though she’d done her best to tire him.
    “Which one?” Her uncle cocked his head at her. “There is only one ae’Magi.”
    Aralorn pursed her lips. “We’re not certain that’s true.” She told Halven the things that Wolf had told her about his father and the dreams that she, Gerem, and Kisrah had experienced. After a brief hesitation, she told him of Wolf’s relationship to Geoffrey ae’Magi and exactly how the last ae’Magi had died. She didn’t easily give up information—except when that information might be vital. She had a feeling that they might need help before this was over, and her uncle would be a lot of help if he so chose.
    Halven made an odd little sound that Aralorn couldn’t decipher, but the incredulity in his voice when he spoke was clear enough. “So you think that a human mage who is dead is walking in the dreams of a shapeshifter and the newest human Archmage, and they are not able to stop it? The dead have very little power over the living unless the living grant that power to them. I can think of a half dozen more likely things—including the return of the Dreamer.”
    “I was able to take control of my dreams,” said Aralorn. “And Kisrah loved Geoffrey and welcomed him. I don’t think Gerem has any defenses against magical attacks.” Someone—Nevyn—should have seen to it that Gerem had started training a long time ago.
    She looked away from the hawk as she worked out some things she’d never put together before. “The dreams I was given were true dreams, Uncle. At first, whoever sent them to me had tried to alter them, but I was able to see through to the