“Why is that?” asked Roxen.
Gar and Pike both growled their annoyance at not understanding the conversation. Channon quickly translated what they had learned.
“Because,” said Seperun, “I can think of no legitimate reason why Swann would take such drastic action. He’s been a loyal supporter since the regime change—his family never did have any particular love for the Demetrians. I had no reason to distrust him, and yet he found sufficient cause to drug over a dozen men to free Rayna, Mina, and Katrine.”
“He drugged your men?” Roxen's face paled.
“Indeed. He served them wine dosed with Siren’s Breath, a powerful sedative derived from seaweed.”
“Well,” Roxen said, “at least he didn’t seriously harm anyone.”
“But that’s just it,” said Seperun. “Siren’s Breath has a certain association. Slavers use it to capture their victims, and to keep them pliant on the journey to the Kyrean markets. There are at least three other substances that could have achieved Swann’s desired effect, and are far easier to come by.”
“You think he might have some connection to slavers?” Roxen’s voice raised in alarm.
“I don’t know,” Seperun admitted. “But Siren’s Breath also poses risks the other potential agents do not.”
“What kind of risks?” Channon paced the room.
“It isn’t a common result, but some dosed with the poison have an allergic reaction that can be deadly. One of my—” Seperun swallowed. “One of my men was found dead. If Swann had Siren’s Breath, he must have known the risks it carries. If his intent was to help Rayna for some misguided, but well-intended purpose, why risk harming an innocent man?”
“Taken together, it paints a picture I don't like,” said Roxen. “You said you were preparing to go after them?”
“Yes. He will likely be heading toward his lands northwest of here. His family has an estate near Teros, a small harbor town. If he plans on taking Rayna, Katrine, and Mina to Halmstead—for legitimate reasons or otherwise—he’d need a ship.”
“I’ve heard enough.” Channon turned to Roxen. “If a slaver has them, we need to act before it’s too late.”
Roxen nodded. “We leave at once. Can you send an update to the Alphena, Seperun?”
“I already have, but I will have a second message sent explaining that we are now in pursuit.”
“We?” Channon narrowed his gaze.
Seperun wore light armor and sturdy boots—as if prepared for a long journey.
“Your packmates were my responsibility the moment I welcomed them within these walls. I failed them, and will do everything in my power to make it right.”
“You’ll only slow us down,” Channon growled.
“I can ride hard. If I slow you down, leave me behind.”
“All right. We need someone who knows the terrain,” Roxen said despite Channon’s glare. “Send the missive to Silver, and we’ll meet you outside.”
“My men will show you to the western gate. I’ll meet you there in a quarter hour’s time.”
Channon leaned against the high wall surrounding Anhorde’s grounds. He tapped his foot. A quarter hour had not yet elapsed, but still, they could not afford to wait. Even if they were wrong to suspect Lord Swann of treachery, he was still taking Rayna to Halmstead. No matter what, she was in grave peril. Just as Channon was about to demand they leave without Seperun, the regent marched across the gardens toward them, with two other Maenoren soldiers following him.
“Beta Roxen.” Seperun inclined his head. “I present Lieutenant Cassian Libera and Lieutenant Daveed Junian, two of my most trusted men.”
Cassian—a tall man with thick hair and an angular face—nodded to them all, including the wolves. “Follow me.” He led the way through the gate.
Outside, three horses stood saddled and ready. A young woman so slight in stature Channon did not initially notice her, held all three sets of reins loosely in gloved hands.
“Regent.” She handed him the closest horse's reins. The black beast eyed the Trues and Fenearens without fear.
“Thank you, Indira.” Seperun mounted the horse in one smooth motion.
His lieutenants mirrored him.
Indira eyed them sternly. “These are some of our best horses. They will see you to Teros quicker than most, if you treat them well.” Her high, feminine voice belied her short hair and mannish clothing. She wore loose leather leggings and a billowy, tucked-in shirt.
“We will.” Cassian turned his white-and-chestnut horse west.
That was all the invitation Channon needed. He formed and sprinted down the path. Thundering hooves and paws pounded after him.
They ran and rode hard, eventually letting Seperun take the lead atop his black courser. They traveled through the day, stopping only as needed to rest and water the horses.
Channon protested, but Seperun overruled him.
“We must all keep up our strength. If my suspicions about Swann are true, we may face a fight soon enough.”
“Besides,” Cassian said as he scratched his painted horse behind the ears, “we don’t want to risk Miss Indira’s temper upon our return. She’s fiercer than a mother goose when it comes to her charges.”
“I hadn’t realized Maenoren women were permitted to be stable-masters,” Roxen said absently.
“They weren’t before,” said Cassian. “Indira was a courtesan when Rhael ruled, though the Overlord had little interest in any of the palace women, besides his Morna Helena. Indira was popular with the visiting nobles, though. You wouldn’t know it from the way she dresses now, but she is quite the beauty.”
“Enough, Cassian.” The steel in Seperun’s voice surprised Channon. The Regent rarely raised his voice—the deep timbre of it was commanding enough. “You needn’t speak of what Indira endured under Demetrian rule. The past is the past. We all must be allowed to free ourselves from it.”
Cassian’s cheeks flamed. “My apologies, Regent.”
Daveed quirked a smile, but said nothing as he re-mounted his horse.
Hours later, the ocean’s scent wafted over the currents. They entered the harbor town, finding the streets mostly deserted. As they slowed their pace along the cobblestones, Channon, Roxen, and the Trues fanned out, their snouts trailing the ground.
So many scents crowded Channon’s awareness: Maenoren townspeople, horses, other livestock, fish, and perfumes. But as he continued his search, another scent—floral and sweet, but with a strong, woody base—caught his attention. Rayna smelled of lilacs and the small, tart strawberries that grew in moss. She'd recently passed through the square, and she hadn't been alone. Mina’s rose-and-yew aroma and Katrine’s woodsmoke-and-juniper scent mingled with Rayna’s.
He shifted human. “They went this way!” He pointed toward one of the paths leading to the docks.
Channon led the way onto the wooden planks. It was well past noon and the ocean reflected golden afternoon light.
Seperun and the other Maenorens dismounted and led their horses behind them. They passed dozens of fishing skiffs. Rayna’s scent strengthened with each step. Finally, they came to an empty dock where Rayna’s scent faded to nothing.
She'd boarded a ship.
Channon cursed and slammed his fist into a wooden dock post. “We’re too late!”
The scent was fresh. It was but a few hours old. Channon considered rounding on their Maenoren escort, and accusing them of slowing them down. But, he knew they had kept pace with the wolves. It was not their fault he'd failed to reach Rayna in time.
He had no one to blame but himself.
“This was where Swann’s ship was docked? You’re sure the women were taken aboard?” Seperun asked.
“Yes. Their scents lead here, and then nothing.” Channon stared at the dark horizon. She was out there somewhere, but he could not reach her.
“Cassian, Daveed.” Seperun called over his men. “Search each of the nearby skiffs. See if any of their crew are aboard, and i
f they saw Swann leave. We need to ascertain whether they went willingly, or if he has indeed betrayed us.”
Daveed and Cassian split in opposite directions toward the closest ships.
“What now?” Roxen asked. “Even if they aren’t in danger from Swann, they’re still heading to the capital. How can we reach them in time to stop them before they get themselves killed?” Worry and frustration drew lines in Roxen’s brow.
“We can hire a ship,” Seperun spoke in a fast clip. “But we’ll still reach Halmstead hours after Swann does—if the tides are kind. We need to delay them.”
Daveed and Cassian returned, each with a fisherman in tow.
Cassian saluted Seperun. “Regent, these men saw Swann, the Fenearens, and Mina leave this morning.”
“And?” Channon pushed toward them. “Did they board the ship of their own accord, or were they prisoners?”
“They boarded the Cygnet freely but...” Daveed prodded the fisherman beside him. “Tell them what you told me.”
The man gulped, eyeing the Fenearens and trues. “The women—that is to say a gorgeous brunette, a skinny girl, and a tall redhead with scars across her face—boarded Lord Swann’s ship without complaint. But Lord Swann has been trading out of this port for years. He’s known to keep company with Corsairs. The rumor is, he’s a slaver.”
The other fisherman took over. “Even if those women boarded freely, they won’t stay that way for long.”
Channon snarled, making the fishermen flinch.
“Thank you.” Seperun dismissed them.
“They knew he was a slaver, but they did nothing to warn Rayna and the others? What kind of cowards are these people?” Channon paced the dock.
“I should have known.” Seperun spoke quietly, as if to himself. “I was so grateful to have any of the nobles on my side. I should have vetted him more thoroughly.”
“There are hundreds of nobles, Regent,” said Daveed. “You cannot possibly keep up with every one of their schemes and connections.”
“I should have known,” Seperun repeated. He cleared his throat. “Daveed, Cassian, you will hire the fastest ship this harbor can offer. Pay what you must to be allowed to take it to the Republic—buy the whole damn ship if you must. You will escort Beta Roxen, Alpha Gar, Pike, and Channon to Halmstead as quickly as you can.”
“What about you?” Roxen asked.
“One of my most trusted advisers is stationed not far from here. I will ride there and prepare an extraction plan, should you be compromised. In the meantime, if you’re to have any chance of reaching Rayna, Mina, and Katrine before Swann can sell them—or hand them over to the Council for a reward—we’ll need to delay him.”
“How could you possibly accomplish that from here?” Channon demanded.
“I can’t. I will send word to the agents we have in Halmstead to be on the lookout for the Cygnet.”
“If you already have agents in Halmstead, can’t they help our friends?” Roxen asked.
Seperun shook his head. “We only have a handful of spies. They are information-gatherers, not warriors. They won't be much help in a fight, but if Swann intends to turn Rayna and Mina over to the Council, my agents may be able to intercept any messages he sends seeking an audience with the Councilors.”
“That won’t buy much time,” Channon protested.
“No,” Seperun allowed, “but it might be enough if you hurry. Get to Halmstead. Focus on locating and freeing the ladies. Once you do, return on your ship. If you’re compromised, send a message in the secure way.” He gave Cassian and Daveed a significant look. “If anything happens, I will come for you, and I won’t be alone.”
Cassian and Daveed nodded knowingly.
Channon had no clue what Seperun meant by sending a message “in the secure way,” but there was no time to waste unraveling their strange speech. “Where are we to find a ship?”
“I saw some likely looking galleys,” Daveed offered. “Textile traders. They’ll be desperate for any business.”
Seperun slipped a ring off his finger and handed it to Daveed. “If they give you any trouble about breaking my embargoes and traveling to the Republic, show them this. You men are free to break any such restrictions to rescue our friends. Now, I must ride north. I’ll stable your horses before I go.” Seperun nodded to them all before striding down the docks toward the town square.
“Where is he going? Who is this adviser?” Roxen asked as they followed Daveed toward the galleys he’d mentioned.
“There’s only one man who can help us if the women are turned in, or sold.”
“Who?” Channon demanded.
“The last living mage in Maenor,” said Cassian. “Davin Dantes.”
Chapter Sixteen
Silver anxiously awaited news of her niece, but no new falcons arrived. To distract herself, Silver tended to her other duties. She spent the morning discussing prey levels with the hunters, and overseeing the arrival of Marielana's promised herring.
After a fishy lunch, she visited Jaline.
The healer admonished her for moving her neck too much as she reapplied the herbs and bandaging.
“My apologies, but it is rather hard to do my job without turning my head.” Silver's lips quirked a smile.
“Hm.” Jaline tied off the bandage. “Have you spoken with Haerian yet?”
“No. I’ll talk to her today.”
“Good.” Jaline dipped her hands in a basin. “And what are you going to say?”
“I have an idea for how she can prove her worth to the pack, without attacking me. Hopefully this won’t lead to a rematch.” She’d felt lost without Roxen and Gar, but Jaline proved an able confidant.
“Then I wish you luck, Alphena.” She lifted a jar of yarrow to a sunbeam, checking if it needed to be refilled. “Try not to open any more stitches.”
Silver promised her best effort before she left. The usual morning activities buzzed around her. Hunters returned with their meager kills, and men and women brought their gathered herbs and fruit to the central table. Others carved beads, fletched arrows, or dressed what little prey there was. As a warrior, Haerian would either be assisting the hunters, or at the training range. Silver guessed the latter.
She walked the sandy paths through the densite. Each Fenearen or True Wolf she passed gave some sign of respect—a nod, raised paw, or a smile. Silver returned each gesture, allowing her pack’s courtesy to fortify her. Making peace with Haerian would not be easy, but Silver could not allow Haerian’s dissatisfaction to fester.
No matter how many times Silver told herself Nero’s actions weren’t her fault, she couldn't believe it. Silver made a decision to help Nero, and it cost Thera her life. Bayne had assured Silver helping Nero was kind and honorable.
But it had also been too little, too late. Silver saw now that the kindest choice would have been preventing Nero's alienation. There had to have been an opportunity to pull Nero back from the brink, but she and Bayne had missed it. She would not repeat that with Haerian.
Silver reached the clearing north of the site. Until recently, the area had been well-forested. Rhael’s fires had changed the Fenearen landscape. Saplings grew in the damaged stretches—young trees that would grow strong thanks to the rich soil the fires left. The pack maintained this field as a new training range.
A sand-filled wrestling pit lay at the quarter-league wide clearing's center. Archers honed their accuracy at a line of targets. A pair of adolescent girls raced through an obstacle course under their mentor's watchful gaze.
Silver found Haerian resting at the clearing’s edge. With Haerian's injuries still healing, she could not do much but observe.
Haerian struggled to stand as Silver approached, but Silver waved her down.
With narrowed eyes, Haerian obeyed, wincing as she re-settled on the grass.
Silver sat beside her. “How are you feeling?”
Haerian snorted. “Like I have a pair of cracked ribs.”
A pair of youn
g fighters took to the central ring. Silver watched the boys practice take-downs while she searched for the right words.
“I am sorry.” Silver almost reached for Haerian, but re-considered. “I didn't want us to be hurt.”
“You want me in my place—like a good little pup.”
Silver exhaled. She could not allow Haerian's provocation to rattle her. “That’s not what I meant, and I think you know that.”
Haerian eyed her. “What did you mean, Alphena?”
“I don’t wish harm upon any of my pack. You are a good person, Haerian. Strong, capable, and loyal to Fenear. I’d much rather have you on my side. We both want the same thing.”
“We do?” Haerian’s tone suggested she did not agree.
Silver pushed on. “I want you to reach your full potential. You could do great things—you have done great things. I know how bravely you fought in the war.”
Haerian shrugged. “We were all brave.”
“Yes,” Silver agreed. “We’re Fenearen.”
Haerian’s lips twitched in an almost-smile.
Silver saw her chance. “When you challenged me, you said dominance had to be earned. You were right.”
“I know that.”
Silver did not respond to Haerian's caustic tone. “I want you to realize that I know it, too. Leadership isn’t a prize to be won. The right to make decisions that affect so many lives has to be earned every moment of every day.”
Haerian swallowed. “I agree, Alphena.”
The two warriors in the center took turns practicing leg-sweeps. They would prove able warriors, one day.
Silver took a deep breath. “I’m going to do my best every day, to earn the title the pack has bestowed upon me. I think knowing your grit and strength, you would do the same.”
“Yes, I would.”
“Fenear needs strong leaders,” Silver continued. “We lost so many in the war. I’ve spoken with Alpha Arlo of the Eastern Densite. He admits to being in need of extra help in their rebuilding efforts. I think it might be a perfect opportunity for a young Fenearen with leadership aspirations to prove themselves to the pack.”
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