Free The Shapechangers by Jennifer Roberson

them.
    Carillon held his ground. “You do not even use swords yourselves, shapechanger!”
    Finn shrugged. “We prefer to give men a close death. A sword does not serve us. We fight with knives.” He paused, glancing at Alix. “Knives…and
lir
-shape.”
    “Then what of your bows?” Carillon snapped.
    “They were for hunting, originally,” Duncan said lightly. “Then the Mujhars of Homana began requiring our services in war, and we learned to use them against men.” His yellow eyes were implacable. “When the
qu’mahlin
began, we used them against those we once served.”
    Finn moved forward, so close to Carillon the tip of the broadsword rested against his throat. “Use it,” he taunted in a whisper. “Use it, princeling. Strike home, if you can.”
    Carillon did not move, as if puzzled by the invitation. Alix, sickened by the tensions, bit at her bottom lip.
    Finn smiled and put his hand on the blade. His browned fingers rested lightly on the finely honed edges. “Tell me, my lord, whom Hale’s sword will answer. The heir of the man who began the
qu’mahlin
, or Hale’s only blood-son?”
    “Finn,” Duncan said softly. Alix thought he sounded reproachful.
    Her fingers twined themselves into the folds of her yellow skirts, scraping against the rough woolen fabric. She knew she would see Finn die; even with his hand on the blade the warrior could never keep Carillon from striking him down. She owed no kindness to Finn, who had stolen her so rudely, but neither did she wish to see him struck down before her eyes. The sour taste of fear filled her mouth.
    “Carillon…” she begged. She swallowed back the constriction in her throat. “Do you begin your uncle’s work already?”
    “As I can,” he said grimly.
    Finn’s fingers on the blade shifted slightly. Alix thought he would drop the hand and move into a defensive posture, but hedid not. Before she could cry out he twisted the sword aside with only a hand. His own knife flashed as he stepped into Carillon.
    “No!” she cried, lunging forward.
    Duncan’s hand came down on her arm and jerked her back. She tried to pull free and could not, then stood still as she saw the Cheysuli blade against Carillon’s throat. The broadsword was in his right hand, but she realized the weapon was too bulky to draw back and strike with in close quarters, particularly with Finn so close.
    “Do you see, lordling, what it is for a man to face a Cheysuli in battle?” Finn asked gently. “I do not doubt you have been trained within the walls of your fine palace, but you have not faced a Cheysuli. Until that is done you have not learned at all.”
    Carillon’s teeth clenched as they shut with a click. The muscles of his jaw rolled, altering the line of his face, but he said nothing at all. Nor did he flinch before the knife at his throat.
    Finn slid a bright glance at Alix. “Will you beg me for his life,
meijha
?”
    “I will not,” she said clearly. “But if you slay him here, I myself will see to
your
death.”
    His eyebrows shot up in mock astonishment. Then he grinned into Carillon’s still face. “Well, princeling, you have women to argue for you. Perhaps I should respect that.” He shrugged and stepped away, returning the knife to his belt. “But she
is
Cheysuli, and my
rujholla
, and I will not risk it.”
    Duncan bent and picked up the scarlet reins Carillon had dropped. He held them out. Silently the prince slid his sword home in its silver-laced leather sheath and took them.
    “Finn will escort you to Mujhara.”
    Carillon looked only at Alix. “I will come back for you.”
    “Carillon…”
    “I will come back for you.”
    Alix nodded and hugged herself, hunching her shoulders defensively. She knew he could not win her freedom without sacrificing himself, which would give her no freedom at all. The Cheysuli had disarmed both of them.
    Carillon turned away from her and mounted the big chestnut. From the horse’s great height he looked down