The Shapechangers

The Shapechangers by Jennifer Roberson

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Authors: Jennifer Roberson
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wolf
, she thought silently. But Storr was patient and very gentle, and she did not fear him.
    “You are Finn’s
lir
,” she murmured. “How can you be so wise and trustworthy and belong to
him
?”
    Storr’s eyes closed as she ran fingers through his thick pelt.
My
lir
is not always so hasty and unwise. You have confused him.
    “I!”
    He saw you and wanted you. Then he found you were Cheysuli, and his rujholla. He has had no one but Duncan for too long.
    “Well, he will not have me.”
    You must take someone…someday.
    “I will not have a beast like him!”
    Storr sighed.
Remember, what name you give him fits you also. You are Cheysuli. It may seem strange now, but you will be happier among us than elsewhere.
    “I would sooner go home.
Home
home; not this Keep.”
    Even knowing you are not like others?
    “Aye. And I am no different.”
    But you are. Knowing yourself different makes you different. Think of the qu’mahlin. The Mujhar’s decree applies also to you.
    “I am his granddaughter.”
    And Cheysuli. You do not know Shaine. But know this—if your kinship to him were more important than your race, you would be in Homana-Mujhar.
    She knew he was right. But she could not say it, even when he nudged her hand and went away.
    “I am sorry for my
rujholli.
” Duncan moved softly out of theshadows. “You must not give credence to his words. All too often Finn speaks without thought.”
    Alix looked at him and wished herself as far from Duncan and his brother as could be. But since the wish did not work, she answered him.
    “You are nothing alike.”
    “We are. You have not seen it yet.”
    “You cannot make me believe you are as angry, or as cruel.” She sighed in surrender and picked at the moss. “Or else you do not show it.”
    Duncan squatted before her, hands hanging loosely over his knees. “Finn was but three when the
qu’mahlin
began. He has little memory of the peace in our clan—or in the land—before it, He knows only the darkness and blood and pain of Shaine’s war.”
    “What of you?”
    He stared at the moss she was destroying with rigid, nervous fingers. “I was five,” he said finally. “Like him, I awoke in the middle of the night when our pavilion fell under the hooves of Homanan horses. It was set on fire even though the Mujhar’s men saw we were only children, and too small to do much harm. They did not care.” He caught her hand suddenly, stilling it as if its movements disturbed him. His eyes were pale in the moonlight. “You must understand. We were small, but such things remain clear.”
    “What do you say?” she whispered, sensing his need to have her comprehension.
    “That you should understand why he plagues you. He is bitter toward Shaine, and Homanans in general. Carillon is the Mujhar’s heir.” He paused. “And you want
him…
not Finn.”
    “But if your story is true, Finn is my brother!”
    Duncan sighed. “You were raised apart. Why should he not desire a woman, even
after
he has learned she is bloodkin to him?”
    Alix stared at him, hand still caught in his. The stubborn conflict she felt rise at Finn’s name faded beneath a new—and more frightening—comprehension. She saw before her a solemn-faced warrior who seemed to be waiting for something from her.
    For a moment she nearly rose and fled, unable to face the conflict. But she restrained the instinct. There was the faintest whisper of knowledge within her soul, the realization of a power she had never thought she might have, and it astonished her.
    “Duncan…” she said softly, “what is this
tahlmorra
you say I should feel?”
    “You will know it.”
    “How?”
    “You will know it.”
    “And do you say…do you say every Cheysuli has this
tahlmorra
?”
    “It is something that binds us all, as tightly as the prophecy. But it has weakened in many of us because so many of us have been lost and forced to take Homanan women to get children.” His mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I am

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