He was in split forms when his scryer buzzed. Var, loping along as a hunting hound, trotted over as Bael answered the scryer. He’d have been a better hunting companion if he’d been able to fly, but a vicious brawl with a surprisingly violent wolf had left him with a rip across the back that would have been agony with wings. Bael himself wasn’t faring hugely better, his ribs aching from getting too close to the death throes of a stag with giant antlers.

He was tired, aching and bruised, but the fights had made him feel a whole lot better.

“Bael,” Albhar greeted him, looking oddly excited. Bael felt a twinge of unease, as inexplicable as the knowledge he’d felt for certain earlier. Was this part of his long-elusive Mage power? Did it only manifest once he’d found-and lost-his mate?

No, she was never your mate, she was never-

“Where are you, dear boy?”

“Not sure. Galatea, Iberia maybe. Somewhere around the border.”

“Ah, such a shame you’re not closer. You’ll never guess what we’ve just found.”

“A cure for the common cold?” Bael muttered, not really caring.

“Much better. We’ve found the shapeshifter who killed your mother.”

Bael stilled. Here was a creature he could vent his rage on. Legitimately.

But did the shapeshifter really kill her? asked his conscience. What if it really was the kelf?

Which is more likely? he challenged, and got no answer.

Besides, he really wanted to destroy something.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice sounding distant.

“Oh, quite sure,” Albhar said. “It’s tried to change its shape already, but we caught it anyway. The dogs are trying to take chunks out of it now. No, drop! Leave! Leave! Good dog. We need it alive.”

“Do you?” Bael asked. “Shame. I feel like killing something.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, it will be dead by the end of the-no! I said leave! LEAVE!” Albhar strode forward, and the scryer’s picture wobbled as the old man bent forward and grabbed a dog, hurling it bodily out of the way. Bael heard the creature whine and whimper as it hit the rocks. “Hells, it’s taken a chunk out of the thing’s shoulder. Won’t bleed to death, will it, do you think?”

He seemed to be addressing someone else-one of the knights stationed at the Vyiskagrad castle, Bael supposed. He really ought to keep track of how many knights he had, and where. But not right now.

“No sir, shouldn’t think so,” the knight was saying.

“We need its blood. Needs to be flowing.”

“Oh, we can keep it alive that long, sir. Not until the new moon, isn’t it? Still need the second creature, don’t you?”

“A second creature?” Bael asked, frowning. “There’s more than one shapeshifter?”

“Well, of course, boy,” Albhar said, turning the scryer back to his face. “There can’t be only one creature in all the Realms that can change its shape!”

Some of the knights chuckled. Var nudged Bael’s thigh with his nose.

“You never mentioned a second-” Bael began, but Albhar cut him off.

“Don’t you worry about it, boy.”

“Don’t call me boy,” Bael snapped.

“Oh come on, Bael, this is a great day. We’ve been searching for this creature for twenty-four years, ever since-”

“It killed my mother, yes, I know. But my father always said-”

“Don’t you want to come see it? Face it?” Albhar’s expression was sly. “We need it alive for the rest of the week, but you can rough it up as much as you’d like.”

“Sure,” Bael said, attention diverted effectively. “I could do with beating the shit out of something.”

“Well then. Just as long as it’s left alive.”

It killed your mother. Familial loyalty be damned, he just wanted to hurt something. “Highest cell, tallest tower,” he said. “Let it freeze. Let it starve. Keep it alive just enough for it to be awake to feel the pain.”

Behind Albhar, his men cheered. The old man grinned with a glint in his eye Bael had never seen before. But he didn’t care. Here was a chance to vent his anger, his misery, his pain.

“I’m going to make that thing suffer,” he said, and Albhar smiled.

By the time he arrived in Vyiskagrad, Bael’s thoughts had turned from the shapeshifter’s suffering to his own.

His ribs and back ached like the devil, so he’d decided not to fly to Vyiskagrad. It took three days to get to the First Bridge to Asiatica, and then a further day and a half to cross the vastly hot, empty deserts of Ægyptus to the Vyiskagradian border and the Vyishka mountains. The constant sway and jolt of the carriage sent pulses of pain through his body.

He’d never much liked the castle in the mountains, huddled like a vulture above precipitous drops and vicious peaks. Perpetually cold and icy, it never seemed to be touched by sunlight. The dark gray stones loomed above the high, twisting pass, along which he now rode on a hired mount. To either side of the narrow shoulder of rock that was the castle’s only approach by land was a gorge several hundred feet deep on one side, and so low on the other that the bottom couldn’t even be seen. The distant roar of rushing water gave the only clue that it didn’t drop into infinity.

Bael rode on, his back and his ribs aching. He’d twinned with Var, the better to heal, but despite the disciplines his father had tried again and again to teach him, he’d never been any good at conquering pain. His father had insisted it was all in his head. Bael was pretty sure it was mostly in his ribs and his back.

His head ached too. He put it down to the altitude and the days of uncomfortable traveling. Anger still throbbed dully through him, a background pain he wasn’t fully rid of, but it wasn’t the bright, burning flame it had been a couple days ago.

He rode into the courtyard, his headache worsening, and dismounted from the horse. As ever, despite the forbidding cold, the courtyard was full of people but to Bael it looked horribly bleak. The mountains loomed behind the castle, itself a hulking, dark gray brute of a building. The tallest tower stood out against the bruised yellow sky and Bael tried to summon some enthusiasm for beating the shit out of the shapeshifter within, but all he really wanted was a hot bath and a soft bed.

And a warm woman. He’d sampled the female company at every inn along the way, but not one of the girls he’d tried had solicited a reaction from him. Anger, tiredness and alcohol were hell on a man’s libido.

“Bael!” cried Albhar as he strode into the high, dark Great Hall. Overhead, the dusty remains of tapestries fluttered in the constant howling draught. Bael wondered if the place had always been so dismal, or if it just seemed so because of his mood. “You took your time! I thought you’d miss the moon tonight and we’d have to wait a month!”

“You could’ve proceeded without me,” Bael pointed out, and Albhar’s smile shifted just the tiniest fraction.

“Oh no, of course not. Culmination of your father’s life work. Couldn’t do it without you. Do you want to see the creature? It’s truly pathetic. Hardly eaten a thing in days. I think it’s sulking. Hideous thing- it’s all infected where the dogs bit it on the shoulder, stinks like hell.”

“You know what, I’m really knackered,” Bael said. “Think I’ll just-”

“No, boy, come and see it. Don’t you want your revenge?”

Personally, Bael wanted to sleep more than he wanted revenge, but he didn’t expect Albhar would appreciate that. Besides, the men were crowding ’round, excitement evident on their faces. They wanted to see more blood spilled.

“Just keep it alive,” Albhar reminded him as they ascended the many, many stairs to the top of the tower.

“Yeah. I might go for a nap first,” Bael said. “You know, so I can have a proper go at it.”