Free Roberson, Jennifer - Cheysuli 08 by A Tapestry of Lions (v1.0) Page B

ferocity, gilt gleaming in mouth and eyes.
                There— And him here, pressed against
the silver doors, shoulder blades scraping.
                Twice he had come, since Ian had
died. First, to chop the Lion into bits; again to burn the tapestry hanging just
behind, lest the Lion summon confederates in his bid to devour the Mujhar, the
queen, and perhaps Kellin himself.
                The fortune-teller said so— Kellin
shivered. He came now with no ax, no torch to set name to tapestry, but alone
and unweaponed, intending no harm at all this time but warning in harm's place,
to make the Lion know.
                He sucked in a noisy breath, then
set out on the long journey. Step by step by step, pacing out the firepit,
until he reached the dais. Until he faced the beast.
                Kellin balanced lightly,
distributing weight as he had been taught: upon the balls of his feet, knees
slightly bent, arms loose at his sides, so he could flee if required, or fight-
                "You," he exhaled.
"Lion."
                The throne offered no answer. Kellin
swallowed heavily, staring fixedly at the shadow-shrouded beast.
                "Do you hear?" he asked.
He disliked the quaver in his tone and altered it, improving volume also.
                "It is I: Kellin, who will be
Mujhar one day. Kellin of Homana." He leaned forward slightly, to make certain
the Lion heard. "I am not alone anymore."
                Still there was no answer.
                Kellin wet his lips, then expelled
the final warning: "I have a friend."
                "Kellin?"
                He twitched; was it the Lion? No— He
spun.
                "Urchin!"
                The Homanan boy squeezed his way through
the doors just as Kellin had done. "Why are you—"
                He broke it off, staring beyond
Kellin. "Is that the Lion Throne?"
                Kellin was very aware of the weight
crouched behind him. "Aye."
                Urchin's steps were steady as he
approached, showing no signs of limp. The Mujhar's healing a week before had
proved efficient as always; once over the shock of being touched by legendary
Cheysuli magic. Urchin had recovered his customary spirit. "What are you
doing here? Talking to it?"
                Before Urchin, Kellin did not feel
defensive.
                "Warning it."
                "About what?" Urchin
arrived before the dais, brushing aside still-lank but now-clean hair.
"Does it answer?"
                "It eats people." Kellin
slanted Urchin a glance. "It killed my su'fali."
                "Your what?"
                "Su'fali. Uncle—well,
great-uncle. It bit him, and he died." The pain squeezed a little, aching
inside his chest. "Two springs ago."
                "Oh." Urchin stared at the
throne: wary fascination. "You mean—it comes-alive?"
                It was hard to explain. Others had
told him not to speak such nonsense, and he had locked it all within. Now
Urchin wanted the truth. It was easier to say nothing. "It wants my
grandsire next."
                "It does?" After a
startled reassessment, Urchin frowned. "How do you know?"
                "I just know. In here."
Kellin touched his chest. "And the fortune-teller said so. It ate him,
too."
                "Rogan said—"
                "Rogan said what the Mujhar
told him to say." Kellin scowled. "They don't want to believe me.
They didn't believe me when I told them about Ian, and they don't believe me now."
He looked hard at Urchin. "Do you believe me?"
                Urchin blinked. "I don't know.
It's wood—"
                "It's the Lion, and it wants to
eat Homana."
                Kellin lifted his chin. "I told
it I had a friend, now;