Free The Shapechangers by Jennifer Roberson Page A

on them all.
    “You are foolish,” he said stiffly, “to free me without requiring gold.”
    Finn laughed. “You seek to instruct us at the risk of your own welfare?”
    “It is only that I do not understand.”
    Duncan smiled. “The Cheysuli do not require gold, my lord, save to fashion the
lir
-tokens and the ornaments our womenwear. We desire only to end this war the Mujhar wages against us, and the chance to live as we once did. Freely, without fearing our children will be slain because of their yellow eyes.”
    “If you had not sought to throw down Homanan rule—”
    Duncan interrupted sharply. “We did not. We have ever served the blood of the Mujhars. Hale, in taking Lindir from her
jehan
, freed her of a marriage she did not desire. In doing that he performed the service to which he bound himself—he served the Mujhar’s blood.” He smiled slightly. “It was not what Shaine expected of his service, perhaps, for Hale was his man. It was only he wanted Lindir more.”
    “Your
jehana
was a willful woman,” Finn said to Alix, deliberately distinct as if to hammer the point home. “Do you echo her?”
    She brought her head up haughtily, defying him. “Were
I
within Homana-Mujhar, I would not leave it to go into the forests with a Cheysuli warrior. Do not judge me by my mother.”
    Finn grinned, triumphant. “If I have at last got you to admit to your blood,
meijha
, I will judge you by anything.”
    Before she could retort he turned and faded into the trees. Alix glared after him, then scowled as he returned a moment later on his dun-colored horse.
    Duncan moved to Carillon’s horse, looking up at the prince. “I would send greetings to Shaine the Mujhar, did I think he would accept them. We do not desire this war.”
    Carillon smiled mirthlessly. “I think the Mujhar has made
his
desires clear, shapechanger.”
    Duncan put a hand on the warhorse’s burnished shoulder idly. “If you seek to continue the
qu’mahlin
, my lord, you are not the man I believe you are. The prophecy has said.” He smiled and stepped away, using the spread-fingered gesture. “
Tahlmorra
, Carillon.”
    “I renounce your prophecy,” the prince said flatly.
    The clan-leader reached out and caught Alix’s arm, drawing her close. “If you do that, my lord, you renounce her.”
    Alix shivered once under his hand. “Let me go with Carillon.”
    “No.”
    Finn moved his horse alongside the chestnut and smiled sardonically at the prince. “Waste no more time. I would not wish the Mujhar angrier than he must be. Come, princeling. We ride.”
    He brought his hand down on the chestnut’s wide rump and sent him lunging forward. Finn crowded his mount behind so that Carillon could not wheel back, and the last Alix saw of the prince was his tawny-dark head ducking a low branch.
    She made an involuntary movement to follow and again Duncan’s hand held her back. After a moment he released her.
    “It is not so bad,” he said quietly. “You have much to learn, but it will come quickly enough when you have accepted your blood.”
    Alix drew a shaky breath and stared hard at him. “I will not claim you a liar, shapechanger, but neither will I submit to your rule. If I accept this as your—
tahlmorra
, I do it on my own terms.”
    The tall warrior smiled at her. “A Cheysuli could do it no other way.”
    Alix scowled at him. Mutinously, she followed him through the trees to his waiting horse.

Chapter Seven
    Alix was so weary by the time the evening fell she let Duncan lead her to his fire and push her down onto a thick tawny pelt without saying a word. A crofter’s daughter spent little time on horseback; her muscles ached and her legs had raw sores rubbed on them. She huddled on the pelt numbly and pulled her tattered skirts around her bare feet as best she could. When Duncan put a bowl of hot stew into her hands she thanked him shakily and began to spoon it into her mouth.
    He sat down on another pelt across from her and