The Black Wolves

by Kate Elliott

  “You look grim,” said Oyard when it was only the two of them in the flickering lamplight.

  “Meeting Ulyar reminded me that several of the young Wolves I commandeered the day of Atani’s death rose to become important men in Jehosh’s court, yet I am not sure they all support him now,” Kellas mused. “This is going to be a long and dirty business. Jehosh’s position may be even weaker than I first estimated, which puts us at greater risk. Oyard, you have young children. If you cannot bring yourself to walk this path with me, let me know now, and you and your family may leave without question and with your honor intact.”

  Oyard stiffened to attention. “My children would be better dead than to live with their father’s cowardice.”

  Kellas pressed a hand to the necklace of Hasibal’s Tears hanging at his neck and considered how he had refused to allow Fohiono to come with him even though she was capable. “Maybe so. If we are too cowardly to act then assuredly we will always be ruled by fear. We still serve King Atani. We will not let him down this time.”

  28

  After seven days of receiving visitors and having sex, not at the same time, Sarai began to feel restless.

  “Are you bored of me already?” said Gil, watching as Sarai set out her writing desk, brushes, and ink. They had just shared a dawn meal of chicken rice soup and sweetened ginger tea on the balcony overlooking the dew-freshened garden. “Is the sex dull? We could invite a woman to our bed and share her.”

  “Why do you try to be outrageous? You do it all the time, even when there’s no reason to.”

  He glanced at her sidelong. “I didn’t think the suggestion was outrageous.”

  She laughed as she rolled up the bamboo blinds. It was a lovely early morning, still cool, the sky a soft blue not yet burnished to its daytime shine. “But you were hoping I would. Or more likely that I wouldn’t. I’m not your family. You don’t have to outrage me.”

  He sipped at his tea, looking sulky in the way he had whenever his family was mentioned.

  “I like your brothers. Usi is very entertaining. General Shevad is sensible and intelligent. I admit Sinara is a trifle … demanding.”

  “It won’t last.”

  “They have to be polite to me because I can cut the strings of the coin they spend. Even if they didn’t, they might choose to treat me differently than they do you.”

  His sulky frown deepened. She found the expression amusing now but guessed she would lose patience for it soon.

  “You don’t understand…” He pared off a slice of mango but set it on the platter as his hands began to shake. She found herself tensing. Suddenly it seemed to her a monstrous presence inhabited the shadow creasing his frown.

  “My mother was forced to watch as her five sons were castrated,” he said in a low voice, “while being told that had she only alerted the palace to her lord husband’s traitorous plot the boys might have been spared. So of course she blamed herself. The two youngest died despite her desperate nursing. Afterward, she was eaten up by the black dog of despair. She took her own life not long after I was born.”

  “Oh, Gil,” she said. “I’m sorry. But it’s not your fault she couldn’t bear the pain.”

  “My family kept me ignorant of the truth for years. Welo is the one who told me, when I was sixteen. I think my family meant never to tell me how she died. They think she was weak, that she chose a shameful death, so they made sure to scold me as often as possible on my duty to the clan. They told me she wept every time she looked at me.”

  “Oh, Gil.” She knelt beside him, but because he would not look at her she felt it prudent not to touch him. “It’s not your fault that you lived and your brothers died.”

  He stared at her for a long time, then speared the slice of mango with a twisted, self-mocking grin. “How wise you are, my beautiful Sarai-ya. I suppose I do despise myself for having done nothing but be born more auspiciously than they were.”

  “Your mother wasn’t weak, Gil. She was killed by accusations and by violence done to her children. I know this is no comfort, but she could have killed herself while she was still pregnant. She wanted you to live.”

  An angry blush heightened the color in his cheeks. “I wonder sometimes if she did know my father intended to kill the king. What if she was the one who goaded him into it? She was from a distinguished family, too, you know. Her father was one of King Anjihosh’s other favorite Qin generals and her mother was from a wealthy Hundred clan. She and my father might have decided together that they were more worthy to rule than King Atani and his heirs.”

  It made her so angry to see him beaten down like this.

  She grasped his hand. “What if they had a good reason to want the king dead?”

  “Sarai!” He pulled away. “How can you even think that?”

  “What kind of king trains Wolves who attack women and children?”

  Arrested, he examined her in silence, then leaned closer as if he heard the wrath that smoldered in her heart. “My brothers are soldiers. They’re honorable men. Anyway the Black Wolves were disbanded.”

  “Do you know what Sarai means, in the language of my people? It means ‘sorrow.’ My mother’s name, Nadai, means ‘joy.’ Out of Joy came Sorrow. My mother took me and ran away from her husband and son. As I mentioned, I’m told she ran away with a lover. What I didn’t tell you is that the lover was a wagon driver, one of the outlaws who were part of the ambush that killed King Atani. She was killed that same ambush. The Black Wolves cut down a woman who was carrying an infant in her arms!”

  He whistled, eyes going wide, and clasped one of her hands between his warm ones. “We have more in common even than anyone could have guessed when they arranged the alliance.”

  “Perhaps. My uncles know about Clan Herelia’s history. But they didn’t expect I would be the one to marry you.”

  “Then fortune has kissed me after all,” he murmured, giving her a quick kiss.

  He released her hand to nibble distractedly on the mango. After the last of it was gone a tremor passed through his frame. If a man could take his anger and pain and neatly pack it away into compartments, he might look as Gil did now: uncurling fists to open hands, dropped hunched shoulders, smoothing out the tight press of his mouth, exhaling as if to expel the dregs of a long-buried anguish.

  “The hells. That’s all old news, isn’t it? Is anything as boring as my brooding? My apologies. Do you want mango?” He sat up with a defiant shake of his shoulder and sliced off another wedge.

  Instead of answering she crossed to the cupboard to fetch her Book of Accounts and paper from her lockbox. Its key hung from the same chain as her bronze mirror, which she always wore unless she was in bed.

  “I like that silk robe,” he remarked as she walked to the writing desk. “I can see right through the fabric to you.”

  Since Gil had obviously forgotten that his disliked brother Usi had gifted her the robe as “appropriate for amorous excursions,” she merely smiled, sat on a cushion at the desk, and opened her Book of Accounts to where she had left off.

  “I am so glad today is the last day of the marriage visits. Yesterday alone we received ninety-four people who arrived in eighteen different groups.”

  “The hells! Did you count them all?” He tossed a cushion down beside her and draped himself across her lap, getting in her way. He did have such lovely eyes, the kind you could stare into forever. “Do you keep track of everything?”

  She kissed his cheek. “Not quite.”

  “That’s a relief! I can imagine you recording your amount of satisfaction with each…”

  “I shall have to ask Great-Aunt Tsania if she would like me to send a more detailed report than ‘all parts of new husband are in working order.’”

  “Please don’t!” But he was laughing now.

  “If you don’t mind, Gil, I would like to write to my aunt. I want to finish up a set of bound pages so I can send it off with the family’s courier.”

  He pushed up to st
are at the ledger’s open page, tracing a finger down the columns of writing in a way no Ri Amarah man ever would because of the custom that men’s and women’s knowledge must not mingle. Of course he couldn’t read any of it; no outsider was allowed to learn.

  “Everyone who wishes any kind of connection to us must offer greetings and a gift so it is just as well you are keeping track although I know Welo is also. Those who don’t come are officially snubbing us, or letting us know they are too important to visit us.”

  “Like the two queens?”

  “We aren’t important enough to hear from them. Anyway, starting tomorrow we must return the visits.”

  She groaned, paging randomly back through the Book of Accounts, reminding herself of the deluge of items that had come into the household. “Every single one?”

  “Yes. That’s why each household leaves a token and a gift. We have a year to return the token with a reciprocal gift. It’s a perfect way to let people in court know how well we value them by how long they have to wait to receive a visit from us.”

  “That seems … ruthless and petty.”

  “Now you understand why I hate the palace.”

  She studied his tousled hair and the silk robe he wore askew and with the silk sash from a different robe wrapping it closed. He dressed carelessly but he could get away with it because he looked good in that affected I-don’t-care-for-your-rules style. She smoothed her hands down the front of her robe just to watch his gaze follow her touch along her breasts and belly. It was so entertaining to watch his penis stir and begin to rouse.

  He leaned closer, breath sweet on her lips. “I think you’re getting a little warm.”

  Just as she kissed him he jerked away and jumped to his feet. “Do you hear that?”

  She listened: A beat of silence, then male voices in the courtyard.

  “That’s Ty. The hells! He’s brought Kas with him.” He hurried indoors to the cupboard where Welo had set away all the gift silk, wrapped in paper. The way he pawed through the neat ranks betrayed that he had never had to fold and put away cloth so it would be fit to wear later. “This orange … who brought that?”

  She studied the ledger. “Their servants wore a badge with three roses?”

  “Look for the White Leaf Clan. Ty’s mother brought you silk with an orange pattern.”

  From downstairs voices rumbled as greetings were made.

  “Ah, yes. The shelf below. To your left. That one.” She locked away the Book of Accounts and her unfinished letter before she unfolded the silk. It was best-quality silk in a sophisticated floral pattern of light orange, dark orange, and brown. “Is there some way to interpret each gift and what its giver wants?”

  “Ty’s mother? Hard to say. I like her even though I would never admit that to him. I wouldn’t think of her as one trying to take advantage. She has a Qin father and a mother who was one of Queen Zayrah’s Sirniakan attendants, so Tyras is even more well connected than I am.”

  Elit had taught her the various ways of wrapping a length of cloth into a taloos. Iadit trotted upstairs to help Sarai fasten bracelets and anklets.

  “I love all the ways you have to wrap scarves around your hair,” said Iadit, fingering the elaborate knot Sarai had used to finish off the hair covering. “I didn’t know whether to bow or scrape to Prince Kasad so I’m hiding up here.”

  “If other courtiers are watching who visits us, is a visit from Prince Kasad good or bad for our reputation?” Sarai asked.

  Gil changed in front of Iadit, having not the least concern about her seeing him naked. “Hard to say. Probably Queen Dia wishes to show her approval for my loyal friendship. Others will see it as her wanting to see if we will take her side against Queen Chorannah.”

  Iadit set up a screen to divide the chamber into two in case Sarai wanted to sit concealed from the men. Welo brought the visitors in along with tea and fresh hot buns.

  Gil slapped the two men on the shoulder. “I didn’t know you could get up this early, Ty. Kas, that color looks terrible on you. Who dresses you? Oh, this is Sarai.”

  “I don’t know how you got so cursed fortunate,” said Tyras, eyeing her and blushing when Gil caught him at it. “I’ll let my mother know you wore her silk, Lady Sarai.”

  “The fabric is quite beautiful, Lord Tyras. Please convey my particular appreciation.”

  “I will tell her you said so. It may soften her thorny heart. She’s quite enamored of how rich Gil is and wishes to know if you have any sisters or cousins willing to shower their favor upon me.”

  Sarai dropped her gaze, not wanting to appear shy but knowing No, I’m the only one they were willing to discard was the wrong thing to say.

  Kasad cleared his throat. He nodded at Welo by the stairs and Iadit by the screen, and they immediately went downstairs. When they were gone he held out a tiny silk pouch.

  “My most honored mother, Queen Dia, has sent a small gift and a token in the hope you will return her visit when you are able.”

  Gil grabbed the object out of his friend’s hand. “What’s this about, Kas? We don’t want to be involved in palace backstabbing and gut knifing.”

  “Our most humble thanks for the honor shown to us, Your Highness.” Sarai plucked the pouch out of Gil’s fingers. Inside she found an ivory disk carved with a two-masted ship. Beside it was nestled a large ivory clasp of the kind meant to decoratively hold aside door curtains, shaped like a head with two faces. “How lovely! If I am not mistaken this is a representation of a northern god called Enne with Two Faces.”

  “Enne Who Looks Both Ways,” the prince corrected.

  “Kas, you ass, Sarai worships her people’s god so you shouldn’t be giving her a present of yours. And what are you doing with an outlander god anyway? You worship at the Beltak shrine like everyone else in the palace.”

  “Is it required for people who live in the palace to worship there?” Sarai asked. “Because I cannot pray at the Beltak shrine.”

  “To rise in the ranks in the army or gain favor at court, a man must attend the ceremonies at the Shining One’s shrine, Lady Sarai.” Tyras clearly relished the role of the levelheaded friend. “I’ve heard the reeves may worship as they wish, since Beltak priests can’t manage the reeves the same way they can manage the army. Out in the countryside people do as they did in the old days, I suppose.”

  “Not for long,” broke in Kasad. “My brothers have taken upon themselves a project to build shrines to Beltak across the entire Hundred, not just in the cities. I hope you are not displeased by the gift, Lady Sarai.” He had a nervous habit of rolling the hem of his sleeve between finger and thumb.

  “Not at all! The workmanship is exquisite.”

  Kasad smiled gratefully.

  Gil took the clasp from her. “I am surprised to hear you know anything about northern gods, Sarai.”

  “I read every book in my uncle’s library. I also learned all sorts of thing from my dear friend Elit. I know I have mentioned her to you more than once, Gil.” She enjoyed the deepening of color in his cheeks before she turned back to the other men. “She became a pilgrim of Hasibal.”

  “How exciting!” said Tyras. “One of Hasibal’s players, acting out the old tales across the Hundred! Is she rich like you?”

  Sarai smiled. “She isn’t Ri Amarah, if that’s what you mean. Just a local Hundred girl. Pilgrims of Hasibal give away all their possessions. Your Highness, I will treasure this gift.”

  “I will tell my mother the queen you said so.” Prince Kasad walked onto the screened balcony. As the others hastened to follow, he said in a low voice, “My mother the queen hopes you may agree to be introduced to my sister, Princess Kasarah.”

  Tyras’s mouth dropped open, and Gil’s eyebrows lifted.

  “I would be honored to call her friend,” said Sarai. “Perhaps you will tell me whether it would be most appropriate for her to visit me or me to ask to visit her.”

  Kasad pressed his palms together, considering his next words.
“I must warn you that if you are seen to befriend my sister, it will bring Queen Chorannah’s displeasure down upon you.”

  Gil took hold of the prince’s elbow. “What’s going on, Kas? I still think Supreme Captain Ulyar was trying to set you up for the murder of the coachman to get rid of you.”

  Sarai thought Kasad would try to shake off Gil’s grip but instead he tightened a hand atop Gil’s fingers. “I am too stupid to know anything about that,” he said in a tone that betrayed he knew perfectly well. “There will be a great deal of fuss and clamor in the upper palace tomorrow. Queen Chorannah’s monthly audience day is now going to coincide with the reeve convocation. The queen will have stewards carefully recording who comes to pay their respects to her and who only attends the convocation.”

  “What is a reeve convocation?” Sarai asked.

  Kasad let go of Gil. “All the reeve marshals have been summoned to elect a new chief marshal now the old one is dead.”

  Tyras winced. “I hear he was torn apart by his own eagle! I don’t know how anyone dares be a reeve.”

  “An eagle killing its own reeve must be a rare occurrence, Lord Tyras, else it wouldn’t be possible to have the reeve halls maintained for so many generations.” When the men all looked at her she shook her head impatiently. “Surely you see my point! If the eagles were randomly and frequently killing their reeves, the institution would not be stable. So the question is, was what happened to the chief marshal unusual or expected? And if unusual, then why?”

  Kasad shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is that it isn’t really an election. The marshals meet and the king appoints a new chief marshal from their ranks. You should also know that Queen Chorannah is very annoyed about the new chief captain of security the king appointed for the lower palace without consulting her.”

  “What about him?” said Gil. “That’s got nothing to do with me, thank all the gods.”

  “Aui!” Tyras gestured to the gracious painted screen and the silk hangings and the expensive clothing Gil and Sarai were wearing. “Haven’t you heard? Rumor says your people arranged for a new palace security captain with Queen Dia’s connivance, using Ri Amarah coin to bribe the king’s favor.”