Silver's Lure. Anne Kelleher

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СКАЧАТЬ the other odors swirling through the cavern.

      He felt as if her eyes were boring into the center of him, seeing him for what he really was, and he felt himself quail. Don’t collapse now, fool, he told himself. She was intent on looking for weakness, sniffing it out, determining which of all her many subjects she would allow to live. The weak she would kill. He forced himself to stand straighter, even as he noticed how her egg sacs bulged beneath her tail, how clear fluid spilled down the insides of her thighs, pooling around her feet.

      Saliva spilled from the corners of his mouth, oozed down his chin. He was alarmed to realize he found the odor as appealing as honey, and he shuddered, appalled by his body’s own response.

      “Name?” she said, watching him closely enough to kill him in an instant.

      Did he have a goblin name, he wondered? The name he’d used among the mortals had simply risen to his lips the first time he was asked. What was he supposed to call himself?

      “Name?” she repeated. She took a step closer and the nearest goblins stopped eating or copulating and turned to watch.

      What was he expected to say, he wondered? Timias? Tiermuid? He opened his mouth and a bleat came out. The court laughed.

      The queen narrowed her eyes and the corners of her maw lifted. He wasn’t sure if she was smiling or if she was merely opening her jaws wide enough to bite off his head. “Name?”

      “T-T-Tetzu.” He heard himself say the word as his goblin tongue tried to form the syllables of his name, either of them.

      “Gift?”

      “Gift?” Timias repeated, trying to look as if he didn’t understand the meaning of the word. What could she possibly want from him?

      “Macha likes gifts,” she said. She coiled her tail under herself almost daintily and to his surprise, his own nearly naked body responded to the invitation it portended. She leaned closer, sniffing the air around his neck, and he felt his ruff rise.

      “Xerruk bring Macha gifts,” snarled a voice behind the queen. He handed her a head, the lips still moving, the eyes still aware.

      Timias saw his chance. With a speed born of complete and utter hopelessness, he bolted around the nearest fire pit, racing to the opposite passageway.

      But the queen’s interest, once roused, was not so easily dissuaded. As he reached the opening, she took off after him and the entire Court followed. Timias pelted up the passage, praying and hoping the sun was out, that the hot light of day would drive the goblins back into their lairs.

      Dank air seared his lungs. He imagined he could feel her vicious claws tearing him to shreds, ripping out his throat, and he pumped his arms and legs as fast as he could run. He burst out, into the trees. A few stars twinkled overhead in a pale purple sky. If it was dawn, he had a chance. He raced through the trees, the goblins pursuing him in full force after their queen, howling and shrieking.

      The farther he ran, the darker it got, and Timias realized that far from being dawn, which was the worst time of day for the goblins, it was dusk, the best.

      The darkness was giving him some advantage, however, for he was able to blend in with the trees. He ducked around the trunk of one enormous oak and slumped against it. He felt his flesh shrivel as it touched the rough-ribbed surface, felt his frame collapse into itself. His tail curled up and under his buttocks and disappeared, his goblin skin softened and gave way to smooth pale skin. Somehow, he wasn’t goblin anymore. I am sidhe. Not mortal, not goblin. Sidhe. He didn’t understand what had happened, but he knew he could never tell anyone. Fooling mortals was one thing, becoming a goblin quite another. Not away from the scent of the others. He sank down, and the horde surged past.

      A blast of horns filtered through the trees, and Timias realized the sidhe had been alerted. He wondered if Auberon and his Court realized how close Macha’s lair really was. Light flashed above the treetops, limning the sky with brief glimpses of green and blue and gold, fleeting as summer lightning. The sidhe were riding out to confront their foe, armed with their spears and swords of light and their high, piercing horns. A shiver of anticipation ran down his spine as he got to his feet and crept through the trees, careful not to make any sounds. He heard the trickling of a brook and knew he must be close to the river that ran through Faerie. The Forest House was built of the great trees that grew on either side of it. If he followed the river, he would come to it, sooner or later. The trees were like grim silent sentries as he made his way between them, slipping like a shadow from one to the other. He passed a pool and beside it, saw a piece of shimmering fabric. He bent and touched it, rubbing it between his fingers. It was woven of spider-silk and it was sticky with a sidhe’s pale blood.

      He stood up, listening. The goblin rampage had met the warriors of the sidhe and the battle had joined somewhere not far enough away. But nearby, someone was trying very hard not to breathe. He looked up and realized that, of course, any sidhe would’ve sought refuge in a tree. He’d been in Shadow too long, and then banished from both worlds, he thought bitterly, to have forgotten so much. He hoisted himself into the branches, then paused, squinting into the green darkness. Nothing in the trees could be as dangerous as what was roaming on the ground, he thought as he saw a pair of eyes gleaming back. “Who’s that?” he whispered. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”

      There was a soft gasp and then another, and a pale face peered out from between the boughs. “Who’re you?” she whispered.

      “I’m Timias,” he answered. “Who’re you?”

      The girl’s mouth dropped open and for a blink, he was afraid her reaction was to his name. She raised her hand and pointed over his shoulder. He turned to see Macha storming out of the trees.

      “Did you see that one? That young one?”

      “What about the other one? Did you see the other one? I know that one—I’ve been with him before.”

      The voices of her companions blended into a harmonious chorus as they raced here and there to catch the mortal apples. Loriana, the sidhe-king’s daughter, eased herself up and out of the water, heart racing. There was something about the young mortal who’d come crashing so abruptly across the border. He was unlike any other mortal, druid or not, she’d ever met. He was obviously one of the druid-born, of that she had no doubt, for every one of his senses had fully engaged hers. But he smelled so fresh and young, like the first pale shoots of new spring leaves. She shook her damp hair out so that it spread around her shoulders like a silken cloak, while she tried to listen beneath Tatiana and Chrysaliss’s chatter.

      There was a lambent energy surging through the air like a barely audible hum. The sound of horns was fading but the scent of Shadow lingered and she wondered what brought her father out to hunt. The sidhe didn’t hunt at night. It was far too dangerous, for at night, the goblins crept out of their lairs below the Forest. They themselves were disobeying by leaving their bowers at night.

      She sniffed, delicately sorting through all the competing scents twining through the Forest. There he was, she thought, catching the barest whiff of the boy, ripe as a sun-warmed acorn. She closed her eyes and inhaled, pulling as much of his essence, of his scent, as far and as deep into herself as she could, until she was certain she could find him again. He made her palms tingle and her toes curl.

      “Let’s go after them—” Tatiana’s hot breath in her ear made Loriana jump. They pressed against her, their bodies damp and cool, and Loriana could feel the need the mortals had roused.

      “There СКАЧАТЬ