Black Wolf s-4

by Dave Gross

  "Ronan was the strongest!" shouted Brigid.

  Several others nodded at her words. Darrow caught Sor-cia's eye. The white wolf had avoided Rusk since their first encounter with Maleva, but he was certain she was still sowing discord among the pack.

  "You sent him to die while you hid in this filthy vampire's lair," Brigid accused.

  Rusk stepped toward the defiant nightwalker. "You were sent to scatter the herd from their pen," he thundered. "Ronan almost ruined everything when he forgot there was a wolf among the sheep."

  "Is that what happened when he cut off your arm?" she spat. Despite her defiance, she flinched in anticipation of a physical rebuke.

  Rusk surprised them all by not lashing out. "Yes, I too was hasty," he admitted. He turned, raising his voice and gesturing toward his missing arm. "And Malar demanded a sacrifice from me as well. That sacrifice brought us the Black Wolf Scrolls, and from them we know the night of our triumph is nigh. Ronan has made his own sacrifice, as will all who jeopardize the fulfillment of the prophecy."

  "You keep telling us about this prophecy," said Morrel. He and Sorcia had been whispering earlier, but Darrow noticed she was nowhere near him when he stepped forward now. "What if it's only a myth? What if you have the time wrong? We are far from our own territory."

  "This is our territory," said Rusk, "and so is all of the land, the wild and the city alike. I shall face the Black Wolf on the appointed night. Only then will the will of Malar be revealed."

  "You mean the will of Rusk, don't you?" said Morrel.

  "I speak the words of Malar," he said. "Do you doubt it?"

  Morrel met the Huntmaster's eyes only briefly before he turned his face away. Before Rusk could continue, the warehouse door opened. One of Stannis's ghastly minions beckoned for Rusk to follow.

  "We will speak more of this later. Come with me," Rusk said to Darrow. Sorcia began to follow him also. "Not you," he told her.

  As they left the warehouse, Darrow glanced back at the pack. All of them watched Sorcia as they waited for Rusk to depart.

  *****

  Inside the great hall, Darrow was not surprised to find Rusk and Stannis arguing, and only slightly surprised to find that Radu had joined them. He knew it was only a matter of time before the younger Malveen became involved, but he had not looked forward to meeting him again. No matter how much stronger Darrow had become in his year of ranging with the pack, he knew he stood no chance if Radu decided to correct the error of his survival.

  "We shall all benefit from this endeavor," said Stannis. "Perhaps when all is done, you will let me provide you with sparring partners once more. Perhaps Talbot Uskevren could be the first-"

  "No," said Rusk. "After the night of the Black Moon, no one will harm Talbot."

  "Then he will be in your control?" inquired Stannis.

  "Completely," said Rusk.

  From the tiny crinkling at his eyes and the corners of his lips, Darrow sensed the Huntmaster was harboring a secret he had yet to reveal to the pack.

  "That is what you promised the first time," observed Radu. He looked pointedly at Darrow. "And it is not the only promise you have broken."

  "I agreed that Darrow would be the prey at the High Hunt," said Rusk. He smiled like a chess player who had just made a surprising move. "And so he was. We hunted him, and we caught him."

  "We should put an end to all of this," said Radu.

  "Two more days," promised Rusk. "When the Black Moon comes, the prophecy shall be fulfilled."

  "It occurs to me," said Stannis, "that you have not entirely explained the ultimate outcome of this so-called prophecy."

  "You had the scrolls for years," said Rusk. "Did you not read them?"

  "Of course I did," said Stannis. "To be blunt, I found them tedious and vague. Naturally, I skimmed all that business with the star charts and the tidal foofaraw. Even so, I wonder that you derive a prophecy from it all. Please, enlighten us as to the particulars."

  "The Beastlord is not to be mocked," growled Rusk. "He has revealed his will unto me, and that is enough."

  "Give us a hint. Will there be earthquakes and firestorms? I suppose that's really more the domain of Talos the Destroyer. Perhaps Umberlee will donate a tidal wave. I do hope you would warn us if that were the case. What catastrophe would the Beastlord unleash upon a city? A rain of frogs, perhaps?"

  "Enough!" roared Rusk.

  "Please forgive my beastly manners," said Stannis. "The gods have laughed at me for so long, it only seems fair that I laugh back. What are they without the promise of paradise after death. And what is 'after death,' to me?"

  While Stannis baited Rusk, Darrow watched Radu's face. His expression became increasingly calm as he watched his brother the vampire talk with his ally the werewolf For a moment, Darrow felt sympathy for Radu's preposterous circumstance. He was the only human being in the room.

  "What will it take to end this?" Radu said.

  "I must face Talbot Uskevren," said Rusk. "Tomorrow night, under the open sky."

  "Not here," said Radu. "Nowhere near us."

  "Agreed," said Rusk. "I have another location in mind."

  "And afterward, your pack leaves Selgaunt forever," said Radu.

  "Agreed," said Rusk, to Darrow's surprise.

  Were his promises of claiming the city as the People's territory lies? Or was he lying now? Darrow realized he had deluded himself into thinking Rusk had taken him into his confidence. He was just as much a servant as he was when he served the Malveens.

  "One more thing," said Stannis. "Whatever happens when you face Talbot, it will be unpleasant for him? It will hurt his father?"

  "You can consider him dead," said Rusk.

  "That isn't as good as tormented," complained Stannis, "but it is something. Very well. He is indeed in the city jail. I have made arrangements for his petition for bail to be delayed until you wish him freed."

  "Excellent," said Rusk. "Then all that is left is to flush him out of hiding tomorrow night."

  " Too bold to hide,' " quoted Darrow. When the others looked at him, he explained, "The Uskevren family motto."

  Rusk laughed. "Indeed," he said. "Let us pray it proves a part of the greater prophecy."

  He turned to leave, beckoning Darrow to follow.

  "Tut!" clucked Stannis. "Are you not forgetting something, dear Darrow?"

  Darrow froze, fearing the worst. He was nearly right.

  "You forgot to return my key."

  "Of course, Lord Malveen." Darrow produced the key and returned it to the vampire, careful to avoid touching his cold, black fingers. "How forgetful of me."

  "Indeed," agreed Stannis, gazing thoughtfully at him.

  Darrow held his tongue until he and Rusk were out of the Malveen brothers' hearing. Before they returned to the warehouse, he stopped and sniffed for any scent of the spawn before daring to speak.

  "Huntmaster," he said, "I have a boon to ask."

  Rusk raised an eyebrow.

  "Their hostage," he said. "They'll have no more use for her once you've dealt with Uskevren. Let her join the pack."

  "What have you done to earn this favor?" demanded Rusk.

  "I have been loyal," said Darrow.

  "Do you suggest that others have not?" His tone hinted at a test. Darrow knew he must not fail it.

  "Sorcia," he said. "She is trying to turn the others against you. She says you are mad."

  Rusk nodded. "She is not the only one, is she?"

  "She's the only one who says it," said Darrow, "but others are beginning to believe her. They are beginning to doubt you."

  "Do you doubt me?" He fixed his eyes on Darrow's face.

  Darrow took a breath before answering. He could not lie, but he feared telling the truth. "I sometimes… doubt the prophecy, Huntmaster, but I will follow you through it, no matter what happens."

  "You betray the others to me, yet you swear you remain loyal when they will not." A smile slowly formed on Rusk's face. "I will consider your
boon. First, however, I have a task for you. I do not trust your former masters, yet I know how much you fear them. Do you have the courage to turn against them?"

  Darrow thought of Maelin and her gratitude upon her rescue. "I do, Huntmaster."

  *****

  Tracking by scent was virtually impossible in the city. Chimney smoke, nightsoil, cooking fires, and a thousand other pungent odors foiled Darrow's senses. Darrow could never have discerned his own footsteps among the clamor of voices and the rattling carriages that passed along the street. He relied solely on sight to follow Radu through the streets of Selgaunt.

  Fortunately, Radu made no effort to hide himself as he left House Malveen and took Larawkan Street out of the Warehouse District. He turned onto Vandallan Lane soon after entering central Selgaunt. It was less congested than the main thoroughfare but still provided ample cover for Darrow, who stayed well behind Radu, matching speed with carts or small clusters of pedestrians whenever possible. They provided even better cover than the brush in woods, since they moved with him. Darrow saw more clearly than ever how much the city and the wild had in common.

  Darrow followed Radu west through the Central District, then north, skirting the eastern border of the Oxblood Quarter. The streets narrowed and the crowds thickened, as did the smell of livestock, tanning acids, and dyes.

  As they crossed into the Oxblood Quarter, Darrow lost sight of Radu. He approached the spot where he'd last seen Radu, careful not to blunder into an ambush. He knew better than anyone that his former master was not to be underestimated. From that point, there were three likely places for Radu to have disappeared: a leather goods store, a butcher's shop, and the alley between them.

  Darrow walked past the alley with his face turned away, toward the street. He turned at the next alley. The other side opened into a filthy yard shared by the nearby shops. The mingled chemical and animal smells made Darrow's head pound, but the walls muted the clamor of the streets. He cocked his head and listened. At first he heard nothing and wished he could take wolf form before the moon rose. Then he heard a stifled cry from another alley across the yard. Keeping low, he crept nearer.

  "… see you there," said a wavering male voice.

  "Who gave you the money?" asked Radu.

  Darrow heard the clink of heavy coins in a bag. He peeked around the corner. A slender, balding man of forty or fifty years stood in the middle of the alley. His long, thin face was pale with fright, and his hands trembled as he gripped a big leather satchel.

  His resemblance to Maelin was slight. They had the same prominent eyelids and narrow nose, but her mother must have contributed everything else, including her strong will. If his personality matched his looks, Darrow understood why fiery Maelin could not bear to acknowledge her father.

  "Lady Shamur," said Eckert. "She also sent a message to Lord Uskevren in Ordulin. He should return tomorrow."

  Radu nodded. Darrow couldn't see his face but knew from experience that it betrayed no emotion.

  "What of the cleric?"

  "She came to the tallhouse. She seemed agitated about something, but she wouldn't say what. I told her nothing about the arrest. When she asked after Master Talbot, I said he was spending the evening at Stormweather Towers."

  "Very good," said Radu. "Give me the money."

  "Where is Maelin?" said Eckert. He clutched the bag of coins against his chest.

  "You will see her soon."

  "The sending said this would be the last task."

  "It will be," promised Radu, drawing his sword.

  "Wait!" the thin man dropped the satchel.

  Radu struck before it hit the ground, and Eckert gasped. Before he could touch the wound beneath his heart, Radu's sword licked out again, piercing him high on the left breast. The third stroke cut through Eckert's hand and pierced his heart.

  Radu plucked a handkerchief from his sleeve and used it to wipe his blade clean as Eckert stood silent and gaping. Radu dropped the bloodied cloth as he watched the man sink to his knees. At last he sheathed the weapon and picked up the bag.

  Darrow ducked into a cellar stairwell. When he heard the faint jingling of the coins recede across the yard, he peeked out and saw that Radu was gone. He hurried to the dying man's side, but a woman was hurrying toward him from the street side of the alley.

  "Get away from him!" snapped the woman. She flung open her blue cloak and put a hand on the silver talisman that hung from a chain around her neck.

  "Don't!" said Darrow. He kept his hands away from his sword, snatched Radu's discarded handkerchief, and pressed it against the thin man's bloody chest. "I didn't do this."

  "Maelin…" gasped Eckert. A sickening wheezing came from the man's chest, and a mist of blood sprayed from the sucking wound. Blood pooled on the ground beneath him, soaking Darrow's breeches at the knees.

  "Get away, I said!" She pushed Darrow away, intoning a prayer to Selune as she pressed her bare hand against the thin man's chest.

  Silver light surged within her hand, then spread across the thin man's chest. Darrow watched as she said the prayer again, and more radiant energy passed from the cleric to the wounded man. At last, the blood stopped pouring from the man, and his breathing became steady.

  "Will he live?" asked Darrow.

  "Depends on what he has to tell me about what we just saw," said the woman angrily. She fixed her blue eyes on Darrow. "The same goes for you, nightwalker."

  "How did you know-?"

  The woman cast another spell, this time summoning a blade of white light to her empty hand. "Where is Rusk?" she demanded.

  "Listen," he said, backing up and holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. "We can help each other."

  "I'm listening," she said. "Make it good, and make it quick. I'll probably kill you anyway."

  "You don't need to kill me. I-"

  "Maybe not," interrupted the woman, "but I might want to. Now talk."

  Chapter 16

  Behind Bars

  Tarsakh, 1372 DR

  Even before Tal became accustomed to locking himself into a cage three nights of every month, he was no stranger to barred cells. He needed the fingers of both hands to count the number of times he and Chaney had been hauled into jail for public disorder.

  Usually it was Charley's fault. When faced with a belligerent drunk who disliked nobles slumming in his tavern, Tal usually responded by buying the man another tankard of ale. After a few repetitions of the trick, the drunk usually passed out harmlessly or staggered out to be sick in the alley. Sometimes a match of arm wrestling would do, and once Tal won over an entire crew of rowdy Chessentan sailors by winning a contest in which he and their strongman took turns lifting a barmaid-laden table, adding a new girl to the load with each attempt.

  Unable to respond with feats of strength, Chaney relied on his sharp tongue when challenged. He especially liked insulting the other young nobles who frequented the cheap alehouses, since they were more likely to provide fair sport for his quick wit. They were also less likely to turn to fisticuffs, at least when Tal was nearby. Given enough ale, however, and even men smaller than Chaney would resort to violence. Even though he never threw the first punch, Tal was always ready for it. When he was honest with himself, he had to admit that he liked the thrill of combat, especially the admiration of the bystanders when he won against a fair opponent-or six lesser challengers.

  He missed those brawling days over the past year. Since the wolf emerged, Tal had stayed out of taverns for two reasons: to avoid another "accident" like the one that maimed Perron and to avoid finding himself in jail when the moon was full.

  As it would be tonight.

  Chaney paced, turning sharply at each corner of the cell. Even with his short legs, it took him only four steps in each direction.

  Tal rested his chin against his folded arms, staring out through the barred window that slanted up to the narrow alley outside. Street-filtered runoff still trickled down the short shaft to pool on the stone floor. Despite th
e dirty water, Tal was grateful for the relatively fresh air. The previous occupant of the cell had left a noisome puddle of vomit beneath the cot.

  The only other occupant in this block of the jail was an old man with a long wispy beard. Tal recognized him as one of the homeless drunks who begged for coppers in the Oxblood Quarter. There was less money there but more charity than in Central Selgaunt, where the Scepters were poised to run off beggars and thieves alike.

  "I never thought I'd say this," Chaney said without breaking his stride, "but I can't wait to see Eckert."

  "You always say that when we're waiting for bail."

  "Sure, but I never expect to say it. Hm?"

  Before this past year, Tal's servant made a habit of checking the jail when Tal hadn't returned home in the morning. If the tallhouse funds were insufficient for bail, it meant a trip to Stormweather to fetch a larger amount from Lord Uskevren. For the first time in his life, Tal dreaded his father's not being told of his predicament more than another night in jail.

  "Let's hope he didn't choose last night to run off with the silver to marry a widow," said Chaney.

  His banter did nothing to cheer Tal. Their recent arrest was far worse than any of their previous visits to the city jail. If Tal's attacker died last night, there was no chance a magistrate would allow bail, even if Thamalon were willing to pay it. Even if the charge was short of murder or attempted murder, Tal was sure the Old Owl would wash his hands of his wayward son this time.

  "At least this time it wasn't your fault," said Tal, trying lamely to respond with a jest.

  "Everyone will think it was anyway." Chaney sounded genuinely regretful.

  "I thought you liked being thought a scoundrel."

  "Only when it impresses the ladies," said Chaney with a smile.

  "Let's hope it impresses the magistrate enough to get us out of here before dark."

  "That's right," said Chaney, as if he had not yet considered the problem of the moon. "We've got to get you home before curfew."

  Tal realized that Chaney was making a great effort to put on a brave face. As bad as it was for Tal to transform while in jail, it would be far worse for anyone locked up with him. Tal glanced at the other prisoner before speaking again in a quiet voice. "I'll get them to put me in another cell."