Read Online Sons of Destiny Prequel Series 003 - The Shifter by Jean Johnson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jean Johnson
Ads: Link
themselves out of such violent barbarism and had established a successful, peaceful society was something to be praised, not vilified. Earth-priestesses gave their efforts out of compassion, nor were all of their tasks sexual in nature.
So instead of flinching at the insult, he gave Zellan's words careful thought. " Can I seduce a woman? As in, ingratiate myself with this betrothed girl, to the point where she'll encourage her family to cozy up to me, or at least permit me to cozy up to them? It would help if she's attractive, of course, but... I think I can. If nothing else, as the daughter of a Healer and 'my' betrothed, I could play the part of the grateful invalid."
"Females are often quite gullible, if they think they're needed," Zellan agreed, smirking.
The dismissive insult turned Kenyen's stomach. It wasn't nearly difficult enough now to picture the abuse Atava's mother, Ellet, had suffered at the hands of these callous curs. Yet this is only the tip of the claw. I suspect the wounds these beasts tear through their victims are the kind which dig painfully, permanently deep.
"Alright. Light the globe and take him into the cellar. Get all the information you can out of the boy," Tunric ordered. "Imitate his whole body, too, though you're close enough to him in size—you might lose a shape. Run through your mind the ones you want to keep, and which one you're willing to forget."
Kenyen nodded. He didn't like the idea of losing a shape, but knew it would probably happen anyway. He hadn't been able to progress beyond seven pure forms for the last two years, so it wasn't likely he'd be able to add "Traver Ys Ten" as his eighth shape at this stage of his life.
I'll keep the tiger and the wolf; they're good fighting forms. The magpie for flight, or maybe the owl—I might have to fly about at night, so I'll keep both. That's four. I should probably keep the viper for the venom I've learned to replicate, and the horse form in case I need to carry Traver out of here myself. Which leaves my hunting cat shape, I guess. I like being a medium-sized cat... but of all the shapes I know, it's the least useful for this moment. And I know I can get it back. I lost the viper one when I tried being a duck for a while, then decided to go back to being a snake; that venom has been handy in the past, even if it gives me a stomachache if I swallow too much.
Zellan had pulled up the trapdoor to the root cellar. He slung a waterskin over his shoulder, picked up a milky white globe in a net, rapped it once sharply to make the enchanted glass glow with a bright, steady light, and descended carefully into the shadowed depths. Grabbing the steel mirror from his saddlebags, Kenyen followed the other man into the cellar, where Traver awaited them. Rather than being bound hand and foot, the youth had been hobbled at his feet and manacled to the stone-dug wall by a modest length of chain.
It hadn't been necessary to gag him; the shepherd's croft stood quite alone on this particular foothill, with no signs of neighbors or paths to other homes for the last two miles. Traver could have shouted himself hoarse and no one but the shapeshifters and sheep would have heard him. From the quiet but clear murmurs of the three elders' voices overhead, discussing some minor business related to the mine that Tunric apparently oversaw, Traver had probably heard every word of their earlier debate.
Kenyen dared a brief, subtle wink while Zellan's back was still turned, but his expression was calm, almost bored, when Zellan glanced back at him. With his features no longer copying Tunric's stubbled jowls, it wasn't difficult to look impassive.
Hanging the netted lightglobe from a hook overhead, Zellan lifted his chin at Kenyen, then looked at the Corredai male. "I know you've been listening to us, up above. I also know that you know he's going to copy your face and take your place. If you want that pretty little girl of yours to survive what he needs to do, you
So instead of flinching at the insult, he gave Zellan's words careful thought. " Can I seduce a woman? As in, ingratiate myself with this betrothed girl, to the point where she'll encourage her family to cozy up to me, or at least permit me to cozy up to them? It would help if she's attractive, of course, but... I think I can. If nothing else, as the daughter of a Healer and 'my' betrothed, I could play the part of the grateful invalid."
"Females are often quite gullible, if they think they're needed," Zellan agreed, smirking.
The dismissive insult turned Kenyen's stomach. It wasn't nearly difficult enough now to picture the abuse Atava's mother, Ellet, had suffered at the hands of these callous curs. Yet this is only the tip of the claw. I suspect the wounds these beasts tear through their victims are the kind which dig painfully, permanently deep.
"Alright. Light the globe and take him into the cellar. Get all the information you can out of the boy," Tunric ordered. "Imitate his whole body, too, though you're close enough to him in size—you might lose a shape. Run through your mind the ones you want to keep, and which one you're willing to forget."
Kenyen nodded. He didn't like the idea of losing a shape, but knew it would probably happen anyway. He hadn't been able to progress beyond seven pure forms for the last two years, so it wasn't likely he'd be able to add "Traver Ys Ten" as his eighth shape at this stage of his life.
I'll keep the tiger and the wolf; they're good fighting forms. The magpie for flight, or maybe the owl—I might have to fly about at night, so I'll keep both. That's four. I should probably keep the viper for the venom I've learned to replicate, and the horse form in case I need to carry Traver out of here myself. Which leaves my hunting cat shape, I guess. I like being a medium-sized cat... but of all the shapes I know, it's the least useful for this moment. And I know I can get it back. I lost the viper one when I tried being a duck for a while, then decided to go back to being a snake; that venom has been handy in the past, even if it gives me a stomachache if I swallow too much.
Zellan had pulled up the trapdoor to the root cellar. He slung a waterskin over his shoulder, picked up a milky white globe in a net, rapped it once sharply to make the enchanted glass glow with a bright, steady light, and descended carefully into the shadowed depths. Grabbing the steel mirror from his saddlebags, Kenyen followed the other man into the cellar, where Traver awaited them. Rather than being bound hand and foot, the youth had been hobbled at his feet and manacled to the stone-dug wall by a modest length of chain.
It hadn't been necessary to gag him; the shepherd's croft stood quite alone on this particular foothill, with no signs of neighbors or paths to other homes for the last two miles. Traver could have shouted himself hoarse and no one but the shapeshifters and sheep would have heard him. From the quiet but clear murmurs of the three elders' voices overhead, discussing some minor business related to the mine that Tunric apparently oversaw, Traver had probably heard every word of their earlier debate.
Kenyen dared a brief, subtle wink while Zellan's back was still turned, but his expression was calm, almost bored, when Zellan glanced back at him. With his features no longer copying Tunric's stubbled jowls, it wasn't difficult to look impassive.
Hanging the netted lightglobe from a hook overhead, Zellan lifted his chin at Kenyen, then looked at the Corredai male. "I know you've been listening to us, up above. I also know that you know he's going to copy your face and take your place. If you want that pretty little girl of yours to survive what he needs to do, you
Similar Books
