The Black Wolves

by Kate Elliott

  Voices murmured from all sides. The faint glow of lamplight drew horizons on the crawl space and the even narrower ventilation shafts. Warehouses had to be built with a good flow of air, but this easy security breach was outrageous.

  He bumped into a sandaled foot, and slid forward beside the prince. A barred gap gave them a view onto a lamplit chamber below. A set of doors opened onto a farther room, out of which Kellas heard a woman murmuring encouraging words and the occasional gasp and hoarse comment from the laboring queen.

  In the room below Anjihosh faced his mother, Lady Irlin. A princess of the Qin, she had survived over thirty years as a foreigner inside the Sirniakan palace with its deadly infighting among the emperor’s wives. She was the one person Kellas hoped he never, ever had to take orders from.

  “According to Qin custom, a father does not see his newborn child until seven days have passed,” she was saying in the Qin language. “You should not even be here, Anji.”

  “You have forced this breach of custom on me, Mother.”

  “How can you accuse me of misdoing?”

  “Because I have the right in this matter. Qin custom gives the father the obligation to judge if his children are whole and without blemish. On my head falls the burden of whether my children live or die. It is not yours to choose.”

  “You are too softhearted, Anji. It is a good thing you were away from the palace when the first boy was born or you might have let him live. Fortunately I was here and did what is necessary.”

  “I do what is necessary,” Anjihosh retorted in a defensive tone so unlike his cool and commanding demeanor that Kellas winced. “When the deformed girl child was born, I smothered her with my own hands as is a father’s obligation.”

  “And the second boy? Did you kill him, too, according to our agreement that any male child out of Zayrah has to die?”

  “Do not accuse me of weakness. Need I remind you I would be dead, or a wandering exile, if I had not carved a home here in the Hundred?”

  “Need I remind you that you are alive at all because I gave birth to you? Because I smuggled you out of the emperor’s palace when you were twelve, and sent you to be raised by my brother?”

  “Yes, Mother, I am alive because of you. That is why I did my duty in the matter of marriage, according to your command. That is why I gave up the finest and most valuable treasure I ever possessed, because I am an obedient son.”

  “As I recall the treasure insulted you most egregiously and took herself off.”

  “Because you refused to respect her and then tried to kill her. She would have stayed with me if you hadn’t interfered. I could have smoothed a path and worked it out. I could have made the marriage alliance with the empire and kept her.”

  “Believe the story you tell yourself if it soothes your pride. I wish I had destroyed that impertinent fruit seller when I had the chance.”

  “You certainly tried! The day I hear she has been tampered with in any way is the day I send you to live alone on a country estate. She will not be touched by you or anyone. No one but me determines death and life in the Hundred.”

  “Ah, I see it now. This is about your vanity, not your pride. You have decided that if you cannot have her then no man can.”

  An abrupt silence from the far chamber caused the king to turn and Lady Irlin to take a step toward the open doors, which the king blocked by moving in front of her. Atani’s hand came to rest on Kellas’s fingers, squeezing so hard the lad began trembling.

  Kellas had too much experience to be shocked, or at least not while he was in action. His training had kicked in, neatly sorting the conversation away to be considered later.

  A newborn wailed.

  The king hurried into the birthing chamber.

  In a ragged, frightened voice, a woman in the far chamber said, “It is a girl, is it not? Let me see her. Pray let it be healthy and a girl so you do not kill this one, too.”

  Lady Irlin turned to beckon to one of her eunuchs, a richly dressed man Kellas recognized as serving high in the palace hierarchy. The light fell full on her face. She was Qin through and through, unlike her son whose features blended his mother’s wide Qin cheekbones and distinctive eyes and his father’s Sirniakan complexion and curly black hair. Her face wore its lines of age easily, as if her seventy years dwelled restfully with her. She had square shoulders as yet unbent by care or age, a woman entirely sure of herself and her place in the world.

  She switched to Sirni, the language most often used in the palace, speaking in a low voice so as not to be heard in the birthing chamber.

  “I have wondered for years if that second boy-child born to Zayrah was really stillborn, or if Anji only said he was and instead had him smuggled out of the palace to escape his ordained fate. I have excused my son’s sentimental whims for long enough. They have become a danger to Atani. It is time to act. Send a trusted agent.”

  “The second boy was born eight years ago, Lady. How can we know where to look after so much time has passed?”

  “Start in Salya. If your agent finds the boy alive, kill it. But leave all else alone.”

  “A girl, by all appearances whole and without blemish,” said Anjihosh from the far chamber, and the queen began to weep with exhausted relief.

  Atani scraped backward, noisier than Kellas was as he cautiously followed. By the time they reached the garden it had fallen into full night illuminated by fragile beacons of lamplight. Atani tugged agitatedly at his rumpled clothing.

  “Did you hear what they said?” the prince hissed. “Everyone knows Mama has had three stillborn children. I remember the girl because I was nine that year. Father took me to look at her corpse. Her head looked wrong, and he told me it was merciful for such a child to die quickly rather than suffering. I thought that was what must have happened with the two boys, too, that I just wasn’t old enough when they were born to be allowed to see them. But Grandmother just said she killed the first boy only because it was a boy. She told her attendant she thinks the second boy is still alive. Isn’t that what you heard?”

  “I only learned to speak Sirni and Qin when I began training as a Wolf, Your Highness. I don’t always catch the nuances.”

  “They discussed a woman. I’ve never heard of there being another woman. Father called her his ‘treasure.’” Atani glared at the ground, hands clenched as he whispered indignantly, “Mother should be his treasure.”

  “Your Highness?”

  The boy rubbed his face, then looked up with an angry shake of his head. “Grandmother told her servant to send an agent to track down and murder this second boy if he’s found alive. Why would an eight-year-old boy be a danger to me? It’s not as if I’m the heir to the Sirniakan Empire and have to kill all the other contenders for the throne!”

  “Quietly, Your Highness.” Kellas had most of his attention on listening: Celebratory choral singing in the Qin style. A rumble of festive drums in the Hundred manner. A priest’s voice raised in a flowery hymn of praise to Beltak the Shining One in whose mercy the innocent and frail are sheltered, as the Sirniakans who had come with Queen Zayrah made their prayers. No sign of alarm about Atani. No one had noticed their brief disappearance. He temporized. “I don’t know these things. I am only a Wolf.”

  “That’s right, this is my responsibility and I will take care of it,” said the prince with a quiet assurance that made Kellas feel he had badly underestimated the youth. Atani met his gaze, held it. His dark eyes seemed as deep as oceans. “You will say nothing to my father of what just happened.”

  Before Kellas could think of what to reply, the prince’s Qin bodyguards trotted up, looking exactly as alarmed as they ought, having lost track of their charge in a most shocking way. Really, anything could have happened to Atani! Kellas was a captain now and had the right to say whatever he pleased to the lower ranks.

  “I have just conducted a test of how well you guard the prince. Both of you have failed.”

  Atani cast an unfathomable glance at
Kellas before addressing his guards. “I was too nervous to remain inside with all the incense and chatter. Captain Kellas kept me occupied out here. I will go see my mother now, if they will deign to let me in. Captain Kellas, you have your orders.”

  He walked away, flanked by his guards.

  The hells! He admired Atani’s subtle reprimand, even if he could not agree with the prince’s leniency toward men charged with protecting him. He looked around the lit courtyard. Servants were laying tables with food and drink, and the celebration looked ready to go on all night. Surely he had not heard the king and his mother discussing the murder of innocent babies. Queen Zayrah had given birth to seven daughters and three sons, and it was in no way remarkable that three infants had not survived their early days. His own mother had lost two of her seven children.

  The many days of travel from Asharat Valley to Toskala had fatigued him. He was losing his edge, and needed to rest, but had no cursed idea who a newly coined officer reported to.

  “Captain Kellas?” A Qin officer who walked with a marked limp approached him. “I’m Chief Seren, quartermaster for the Black Wolves. You’re being assigned new quarters. You’ll be moving from the barracks to the palace.”

  “As captain will I be allowed a staff? There is a clever young Wolf named Oyard I would like to have assigned to me, if that’s possible.”

  “We’ll discuss it later. For now, come with me.”

  Kellas had so few possessions that the move to a tiny closet of a room all to himself was quickly managed. He slept deeply and without remembering his dreams.

  In the morning he sought out the on-duty officers’ mess, where the on-duty officers—all Qin—greeted him politely enough but with astounded disbelief when he informed them he was thirty and not yet married. Like Chief Jagi, the Qin who had come to the Hundred with Anjihosh had married local women, and they immediately began suggesting relatives of their wives who might be interested in a man elevated by the king himself to an officer’s rank.

  “The king likes his officers to be married,” said Chief Seren when Kellas met with him later that day to discuss Kellas’s interim duties. “But I know your Hundred customs are different.”

  “Given the nature of my work I have simply not had time to think about such matters.” He considered his next statement carefully, wanting to protect Atani and Dannarah without getting them into trouble. “If you don’t mind my saying so, Chief Seren, I would like to do a security check of every foundation, wall, and roof of each building in the palace complex to make sure there are no overlooked gaps.”

  Seren wasn’t that much older than Kellas, but his status as one of Anjihosh’s original Qin company made him a dangerous man to annoy.

  “Do you think we aren’t capable of protecting our commander, Captain Kellas?”

  Kellas favored him with his friendliest smile. “I’ll stake you a year of drink at your favorite tavern if you or your men can find a physical breach before I do. You can start—I don’t know—with the women’s wing since I’m not allowed there anyway, and I’ll start with the barracks.”

  “You’re very sure of yourself.”

  “I think I’ve earned that right.”

  Seren stared him down, then laughed and leaned over to slap him on the shoulder. “You are the man who climbed Law Rock without a rope and at night. Very well. I accept your wager.”

  Thus it was that a week later Kellas was buying drinks for Seren, and hearing the story of how he had gotten the wound that crippled his leg, when one of the king’s personal bodyguard approached their table.

  “Captain Kellas, the king wants you right now.”

  As night fell the two men climbed the Thousand Steps that led from the city up Law Rock to the palace. From the steps Kellas could see the cliff face he had climbed eight years ago, not that there was any trace of his effort. Guards descended to meet them, bearing lanterns. In the city below gleams of light flared to mark night-watch stations, and handheld lanterns bobbed along the streets as folk hurried about their early-evening business.

  King Anjihosh waited for him in the garden pavilion. His gaze would have struck an unprepared man dead.

  “My son and his two personal guards have gone missing. I understand that at your insistence we have discovered certain breaches in the security of the palace structures. Most specifically entry to a crawl space in the women’s wing. Lady Dannarah has confessed to me personally that she and her brother created the entry. How is it you suspected and did not tell me?”

  Kellas wondered if this was how death would come: He would tell Anjihosh what he should have told him seven days ago and then he would be executed and have his body hung from a post as a reminder that you did not disobey the king even at the order of his son. His cursed life belonged to the king regardless. The hells! Death would come, and then it would be over.

  “I was trying to protect Prince Atani and Princess Dannarah, Your Highness.”

  “From my wrath?”

  “Something like that. Once I discovered the breach I thought it best to close it without implicating the prince or his bodyguards. Do you think Prince Atani was abducted, Your Highness?”

  “Do you have any reason to believe he was not? You know who my enemies are.”

  Kellas checked his topknot, suddenly wondering if it was fixed correctly, no hair out of place, the way the king’s hair and clothing always were. The nervous gesture betrayed him.

  “If you think there is any chance Atani left for reasons that would cause him to hide his departure not only from me but also from his mother and his sister, let me know now. Because if he was abducted by demons, I will tear apart the Hundred to find my son, and I will not be merciful.”

  Kellas caught himself before he took a step back. “Atani and I overheard a conversation between you and Lady Irlin, and another afterward between her and her steward.”

  As he related the exchange, the king grew more still and more ominous.

  When Kellas finished, Anjihosh drew the whip from his belt and pulled it through his fingers as if each knot were a whisper of memory. Like all his Black Wolves, like Kellas, the king wore a ring formed into the shape of the head of a wolf.

  Touching his ring, Anjihosh gave a little nod, as to himself, then looked at Kellas.

  “Atani can be more persuasive than he realizes so I don’t fault you for obeying him, this time. From now on, come to me immediately. As for Atani, I know where he will end up. It’s likely he’s gone overland to the province of Mar, to a port town called Salya. Find Atani, and kill my mother’s agent before he has a chance to carry out her orders. I expect you will find those two matters can be achieved in the same place. Return here immediately. All that you learn you will share only with me.”

  He went on with the relentless cold dispassion of a man who is furious but will never let you see it until the moment he decides to kill you for crossing him.

  “Captain Kellas, I assign you now and permanently as captain of my son’s personal guard. We are never safe. Demons walk boldly among us, hiding in plain sight. Rebels and agitators work with those demons to overturn the peace and order we restored with so much blood and toil. As one of the Black Wolves you have devoted yourself not to glory but to maintaining order in the Hundred. Beyond that and most especially, I now command you to dedicate your life and indeed your honor to protecting my son.”

  4

  Dannarah endured her mother’s weeping until she was ready to scream with frustration. How she hated having to sit and wait as others took action!

  Queen Zayrah reclined on a couch with her daughters and attendants clustered around her while Dannarah stood poised by the door ready to take flight the instant she had a chance. From behind a screen, the queen’s favored priest chanted a prayer to Beltak, the Shining One Who Rules Alone.

  “Let all who pray to the Resplendent, the Glorious Beltak, discover the strength to walk the path of right action and the courage to stand upright for justice. We are humble before the S
hining One’s gracious majesty. We are small yet each one held within the shelter of His righteous power. We are afraid but in His hands we are given courage.”

  The priest’s melodious voice faltered when the queen drew in a shuddering breath as prelude to a sob.

  Everyone tensed and looked at Mama, just as if she was the only one suffering the pain of Atani’s disappearance. Not one person had asked Dannarah how she felt or if she cried in her bed at night. No one thought she cried at all, but to contemplate the palace without Atani made tears sting in her eyes even here where anyone might see and comment. She didn’t want their sympathy!

  The queen did not sob after all. Instead, she gathered two-year-old Sadah and the newborn girl—still unnamed—to her breast and embraced them tenderly as the older girls knelt before her to pat her arms and kiss her face. Crying had turned her mother’s nose red, and her hair was tangled and unkempt like that of a mourner instead of elaborately coiffed and adorned by a tiered headdress appropriate to a noblewoman.

  Yet her mother’s disarray felt righteous to Dannarah. Every time she had seen Papa in the last three days he had looked exactly the same as always: clothes neat and tidy, hair perfectly done up in a topknot, face impassive. Whatever else she might be, Mama did not really care what people thought of her because she assumed they did not think of her at all.

  A sudden rush of affection surprised Dannarah. She took a step toward the couch but halted when the priest unexpectedly spoke.

  “Take heart, Gracious Queen. The prince will be found. I am sure of it.”

  His kind voice made Dannarah feel heartened for the first time since Atani had vanished. Papa would never let Atani be stolen from them.