The Shadows of Night (13 page)

“Mother,” Katara said formally.
 
“I bring you Lord Hart, eldest son of the monarch of the Antler Kindred.”

The woman’s nostrils flared, and her amber eyes flashed fire at Hart.
 
“Why has this Antler set hoof into our territory?”

Hart felt a vague surprise that this woman appeared to be in charge,
then
recalled that Pride leaders were always female.
 
Among the Antler, the monarch of the Herd was always male, and he’d heard that amongst the Fang, an alpha male and female shared the leadership of the Pack.
 
It was just another reminder that, although they looked alike in human form, the three Kindred had entirely different customs and beliefs.

“He has twice saved me from the Fang Kindred,” Katara said.
 
“But even though I owe him my life, I would not have brought him here for less than a matter of grave import.
 
We come with news, Mother, news that you must hear.”

The woman’s eyes shone with contempt as she glared at Hart.
 
“Does the Antler not possess his own voice?
 
If he wishes to speak, let him speak for himself.”

Hart understood the challenge.
 
He was unable to speak as a stag.
 
Faced with half a dozen
Claw
, most of them in cat form, did he have the nerve to effectively disarm by shifting to human form?
  

To shift was foolhardy—he would likely be unable to shift back quickly enough if they attacked him.
 
And yet he must prove his mettle before these people somehow, if he was to have the slightest chance of earning their respect.

Drawing in a deep breath, he forced himself to change.

It wasn’t easy to shift to human form.
 
In any dangerous situation, with adrenaline pumping through his veins, he shifted automatically into stag form.
 
Faced with the scent and sight of half a dozen felines, he was instinctively nervous, and his body didn’t want to give up its natural defenses.
 
But he concentrated, forcing the change on his unwilling flesh, and seconds later he stood before them, stark naked and
entirel
unarmed.

He thought he glimpsed approval in the woman’s eyes as he stepped forward and bowed deeply, a mark of respect he ordinarily wouldn’t demonstrate to anyone other than his monarch.
 
Exposing the back of his neck to a predator was not something he enjoyed doing, and he had to fight his body to avoid shifting back to his animal form.
 

“I am Lord Hart of the Antler Kindred,” he said, imbuing his voice with the respect he usually reserved for his father.
 
“I apologize for entering your territory, but Katara and I bring news.”

“It must be startling news indeed, to make you risk so much.”

“It is certainly not good news.
 
The Pack
have
developed a fang that wounds from a distance.”

The woman’s eyebrows lifted.
 
“Ridiculous.
 
Such a thing is nothing but myth.
 
A tale told to children.”

“It is more than myth,” Katara said.
 
“It is reality.
 
I have experienced it.
 
It bit deeply into my shoulder.”

A flash of concern lit the amber eyes as the lioness studied her daughter.
 
“You do not seem to be seriously wounded.”

“Only because of the healing abilities of the Antler,” Katara said.
 
“Were it not for him, I would have bled to death.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed.
 
“You permitted him to
heal
you?”

The tiger and panther growled, taking a step forward, and Hart remembered the words Katara had uttered in the keep: “If we are injured, we must heal without intervention.”
 
She had called it the code of her people, and suggested that to rely on artificial healing left her without honor.
 
He imagined that the Claw, barbarians that they were, might deal with such a situation by killing her, and he wondered if they were both about to be torn to pieces.
 
He had to struggle to prevent himself from reverting to stag form.

“It is my fault, not hers,” he said quickly, taking a step forward, so that they stood shoulder to shoulder.
 
Whatever her fate was to be, he would share in it.
 
“There are healers among my people, and they help us recover from injuries.
 
I knew not that such a thing was considered improper among your people.
 
Katara was unconscious—she had no way of refusing treatment.”

He saw the flash of surprise in Katara’s eyes as she glanced at him.
 
She was apparently surprised that he’d taken the blame for her dishonor.
 
Her mother still looked displeased, but she motioned the great cats back.
 
“I am not surprised by your actions,” she said tartly.
 
“We have long known your people are without honor.”

“We are not without honor, madam.
 
But our notions of honor are quite different from yours.”

With the crisis averted, at least for now, Katara stepped forward.
 
“You can still see the scar on my shoulder, Mother.”
 

The older woman’s eyes narrowed as she examined the ragged, round scar.
 
“It looks like a minor injury.”

“Yes,” Hart agreed.
 
“It is a narrow fang.
 
But it passed readily through muscle and sinew.
 
It is slender, but it cuts very deep.”
 

The lioness studied the scar for a long moment.
 
Her brow wrinkled.
 
“I have never seen such a wound.
 
This is indeed new.”

“We believe the Fang Kindred have plans of war,” Hart said.
 
“They have attacked Katara and my own brother within the space of a few days.
 
When we followed them to their lands, they struck us with this fang.
 
We suspect they intended this as a threat to both our peoples.”

“We have always lived in peace with the Fang.
 
Certainly they are not our allies, but generally speaking, they leave us alone, and we leave them alone.”

“That no longer seems to be the case,” Katara said.
 
“They ambushed me.”

Her mother frowned.
 
“You are lucky to be alive, then.”

“She was just as lucky to survive this single fang,” Hart said.
 
“It could have killed her as easily as a Pack ambush.
 
And more of your people will likely fall victim to this fang, unless we find some way to counter this threat with one of our own.
 
We must work together if we are to find a way to defend ourselves.”

“Why?
 
We have nothing to do with the Antler Kindred.”

“Perhaps in the past you have not.
 
But you need us now.
 
Or can your people create a fang that strikes from a distance?”

“No.
 
Nor would we create such a thing if we could.
 
There is no honor in it.”

Hart chose his words carefully.
 
“When one confronts an enemy with no honor, one cannot be too particular about one’s own code of honor.”

“I disagree.
 
One’s honor is most important when one is facing a dishonorable enemy.”

The woman sounded haughty, arrogant, absolutely sure of herself and the code she lived by, and Hart sighed.
 
It was this attitude that was going to lead the Claw to destruction if he couldn’t convince them of the need to defend themselves against the Fang.

“There is no honor in allowing oneself to be slaughtered from a distance,” he said.
 
“
Which is what will happen if we do not find a way to prevent it.
 
We must work together to find some way to counter this threat.”

The woman snorted.
 
“What can the Pack do with a single fang?”

“We left this particular fang on the forest floor, but I doubt very much it was the only one they possessed, or they would not have wasted it on us.
 
It is quite likely that they have numerous fangs, perhaps as many as several for each wolf.
  
I pray you, madam, think of how easily they could slaughter our people if there were but thirty of them armed with these fangs.
 
We would stand no chance of getting close enough to defend ourselves.”

The woman’s frown deepened, as did the furrows on her face, and Hart sensed he was getting through to her.
 
“Why would they do such a thing?
 
After all, the only time they have used it thus far was to bite you for trespassing upon their land.”

“I doubt they will use this weapon only for defense.
 
Already they have showed themselves to be aggressive, ambushing those who roamed neutral territory.
 
If they attack us with these fangs, we will all be destroyed.
 
As to the why of it—perhaps for land, perhaps for power.
 
These are the things that have motivated men since our ancestors came to this world from the stars.”

“What exactly do you suggest we do?”

“I wish to propose an alliance between our peoples.”

The cats snarled, and the woman made a noise of disgust.
 
“An alliance with leaf eaters?
 
Impossible.”

“You would prefer to die at the hands of the Fang?”

The woman looked him straight in the eye.

“Yes.
 
We would prefer to die than ally ourselves with you.”

*****

“I warned you that this would be their attitude.”

Hart blew out his breath in what Katara was beginning to recognize as his characteristic sound of annoyance.
 
“It is what I expected as well.
 
Yet I hoped they would be amenable to reason.”

“I am fortunate they did not tear me limb from limb when they realized I had been healed by your people.
 
But to expect them to listen to me, when I have lost my honor, is beyond the bounds of reason.
 
And to expect them to listen to
you
—”

“Yes, I know.
 
A leaf eater.”
 
Hart spoke with audible disgust.
 
His shoulders slumped as they walked through the forest, away from the Pride’s territory.
 

“It is the way of things,” she said gently.
 
“And my people are not that different from your own.
 
Yours will not join with mine because we are barbarians.
 
Isn’t that true?”

“Very likely,” he admitted.
 
“The truth is
,
my own father may not listen to me, either.
 
My people do not rip each other apart as the Claw
do
, but I may well find myself exiled.”

“Why?”

“Have you forgotten that I was charged to keep you prisoner?”

So much had happened in the past few days that she truly had forgotten.
 
She inclined her head.
 
“But—”

“I relaxed my attention and permitted you to escape, and then I went with you to
Pack
territory rather than returning you to the keep.
 
I failed in my duty, not once, but twice.
 
My monarch may not choose to overlook my lapse.”

“But you had good intentions.”

“My intentions are irrelevant.
 
I am sworn to obey my monarch.”

Katara nodded.
 
She understood that.
 
In some ways, the Antler Kindred were not that different from the Claw.
 
They had their code of honor, too.
 
The unwanted feeling of respect for him that had taken root deep in her heart over the last few days swelled.

“And then there is the fact that we have been intimate,” she said softly.
 
“Both our peoples would despise us, if they knew.
 
The very idea is considered revolting among my people.”

“As it is among mine.
 
And yet I do not regret it.
 
Not in the least.”

“Nor do
I
.”
 
She was surprised to realize that it was the truth, that she would not have traded these last days with Hart for
all the
honor in the world.
 
“What should we do next?”

“We approach my people.”

“But you just finished saying that they will most likely not listen to you.”

“That is also irrelevant.
 
It is my duty to warn them.
 
If it leads to my exile, so be it.”