Black Wolf s-4

by Dave Gross

  One by one, they slid down the chute to tumble down the slope of an enormous storm drain.

  *****

  Numb after their ordeal, they picked themselves up and followed the sound of the surf until they came to a rusted grate beneath the wharves of Selgaunt Bay. Talbot grasped the bars, growled briefly as his arms grew thick and hairy, and tore their way out.

  They climbed up to the waterfront and turned back toward House Malveen. The orange glow of the flames lit up the clouds from below, and they could hear the clamor of the fire brigade even at this distance.

  Talbot stood with one big arm around Feena, who nestled her head against his chest. When Darrow took a step toward Maelin, she recoiled from him.

  "I came back for you," he said, "just like I promised."

  Maelin looked at him as if a particularly noisome rat had come too close. She skirted around Feena to keep the cleric between her and Darrow. "Stay away from me."

  "Wh-what?" stammered Darrow. "I thought you and j»

  "You thought what?" she spat. "That I fell in love with you because you brought me food? The only thing I hated more than being locked down here for over a year was pretending to fancy you."

  Darrow stared at her, disbelieving what he heard. "I didn't have to come back for you."

  "Yes, you did," she said, "because I made you come back for me."

  A cold realization slowly formed in Darrow's belly, heavy as the truth. Since he had left his home and come to Selgaunt, Darrow had done nothing but obey someone else: first Radu, then Rusk, and finally Maelin. Even when he turned against them, he had played the informant, the henchman… always the servant. It was all he had ever been, and he now feared it was all he would ever be.

  Maelin might be free, but he was still in the cage.

  Chapter 22

  Bargains

  Mirtul, 1372 DR

  What years of quibbling among its dozen creditors could not accomplish, the second fall of House Malveen resolved in a single night. Within a ten-day, salvage crews were carting away the rubble, and a new owner announced plans to build a shipyard on the site.

  The inquest raged and died as quickly as the fire. Thamalon's influence combined with Dar-row's cooperation spared Tal from magical interrogation, and so the secret of his curse was kept. Darrow agreed to submit to divinations that would detect any falsehood, so the magistrates relied most heavily on his testimony. Tal added his account, omitting only a few details. He reasoned there was no harm in leaving the magistrates to infer that Rusk had done away with Alale Soargyl's body when he first came to the city. Rusk was the murderer, after all, and Tal still had no idea how or where Chaney disposed of the body.

  Darrow remained imprisoned pending a judgment from the mistress of Moonshadow Hall, the nearest temple of Selune. His confessed crimes had occurred beyond the reach of Sembian law, but the magistrates deemed it politic to consult Dhauna Myritar. Justice would be hers to dispose if she so willed.

  Tal couldn't decide what he thought should happen to the rogue werewolf. He had run and murdered with the People of the Black Blood, but his desire to turn away from their bloody ways seemed genuine. If asked to speak on Barrow's behalf, Tal wasn't sure what he would say. He did not want to diminish Maleva's memory by defending one of her murderers. On the other hand, what might have happened to him if Feena had not guided him away from the path of the Black Blood? He shuddered to think how close he had come to Darrow's fate.

  The surviving Malveens naturally came under suspicion, but no amount of investigation, magical or otherwise, could incriminate them in their brothers' misdeeds. Tal glimpsed them at the inquest. Laskar looked stunned and confused by all the revelations, but Pietro had a peculiar smell about him, even from across the room. Tal hoped they were truly innocent of Stannis and Radu's schemes, and he wished for the thousandth time that Chaney were still around to watch his back.

  Eckert's punishment was left to Lord Uskevren's discretion, but Thamalon turned the question over to Tal. Considering the circumstances, Tal couldn't bring himself to prosecute the treacherous butler. He imagined that if one of his family were held hostage, he might have done the same.

  Tal found Eckert at the tallhouse and informed him of his decision.

  "Oh, thank you, sir," said Eckert at the news. "I knew you would understand my dilemma. I shall redouble my efforts to serve you in the most-"

  "Oh, no," said Tal. "You're definitely dismissed."

  "Of course, Master Talbot," said Eckert.

  "I'm still angry with you," said Tal. "While I understand why you did it, the fact is that you betrayed me to enemies of the family. But what really makes me angry is that Chaney and Quickly both died because you did not come to me sooner."

  Eckert nodded soberly.

  "I'm glad Maelin is safe," said Tal.

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Now go away," he said. "I don't want to see you again."

  *****

  Quickly's funeral was held at the Wide Realms, and all the public was welcome to the feast and the play that followed. Sivana turned up Quickly's will, which included instructions that her funeral feast conclude with a free public performance of her favorite play, The Widow of Marsember. It was a broad, raunchy comedy filled with crossdressing and pratfalls. It went beautifully, even reducing the audience to tears in an otherwise funny scene when Ennis wept openly during the widow's recounting of her dead husband's hundred flaws and one virtue.

  When the show was over, the audience left in high spirits, as Quickly wanted it. The players sat on the floor and drank toasts to their departed mistress as well as Chaney, whom they all liked. There was as much smiling and laughing as tears and comforting embraces. Everyone in the company made a point of telling Tal he wasn't to blame. Much as he loved them for the gesture, he could not stop feeling guilty both for Quickly and for Chaney.

  The next night, Chaney's funeral feast was held at Stormweather Towers. The intractable elders among the Foxmantles still refused to acknowledge him, though his cousin Meena ignored the ban and attended as a guest of Thazienne. Even the players at the Wide Realms received invitations signed by Lady Shamur herself, much to their astonishment. Every one of them came, if only to see the inside of Tal's family home, to which none of them would ever have been invited on other occasions. Shamur was not only civil but quite warm to the common troupe, joking with them at the scandal she was causing among her opera circles. When she saw that the feast was going well, Shamur led Tal away from the crowd and into her parlor.

  "I looked for you that night," she said. "You could have come to me."

  "I know," said Tal, "but none of the other werewolves had to bring their mothers."

  Shamur tried to remain cross, but her smile betrayed her. "Don't talk back to your mother."

  "Why not? You're good with a blade, but I beat you last time."

  "So you did know that was me? Why didn't you say something?"

  "I didn't know how much you knew about my problem," said Tal, "and by the time your past came out, it didn't matter that I'd suspected something a few months earlier."

  "You should keep in mind that I'm not just your mother," she said. "You can come to me when you need help."

  "And become one of those mewling, spoiled children who run crying to their parents whenever they don't get their way? No, thanks."

  "Then don't come to me because I'm your mother," said Shamur. "Come to me because I'm your friend."

  That got Tal's attention. "Even though I've known you all my life, I still don't know you very well."

  "Then let's make up for it. A new Thayvian opera opens in three days. You will be my escort."

  "Why does it have to be the opera?" complained Tal.

  "Because I say so, and because I'm still your mother," she said, "and you're still my son."

  "Yes," said Tal. "I'm your son, but I'm not your little boy anymore. As long as you see that, and as long as the next time it's the playhouse or a bard at the Green Gauntlet, then it's
a deal."

  Shamur sighed dramatically. "Why is it so hard for you just to obey your elders?"

  "Inherited trait, I think," said Tal.

  Shamur chuckled. "You've always favored Thamalon so strongly that I never really saw it before."

  "What?"

  "Except for your eyes, you've never seemed to take after me," she said. "It seems obvious now why we have three willful and disobedient children."

  "I don't think it's all your fault," said Tal. "Obedience isn't an Uskevren virtue, is it?"

  "No," agreed Shamur. "It seems I married into the right family after all."

  Tal realized the time had come for another conversation, this time with the Old Owl. "You know what is an Uskevren virtue?"

  "What?"

  "Negotiation."

  *****

  Tal found Thamalon in his library, tapping his chin with one finger while studying a chess problem. He had mingled with the funeral guests for a seemly time, so no one could blame him for seeking the privacy of his retreat. Lord Uskevren looked up as his son entered.

  "Care for a game?" inquired Thamalon.

  "No," said Tal. "I came to thank you for Chaney's feast." Thamalon's offer to hold the event at Stormweather Towers surprised everyone.

  "Very well," said Thamalon. "You may proceed."

  "What?"

  "It was a joke, son," said Thamalon. "Perhaps not as good as those you're used to hearing in the taverns."

  "Sorry," said Tal, relieved at Thamalon's friendly tone.

  "I'm still an idiot sometimes."

  "It's hereditary…" said Thamalon.

  "… among the Uskevren men," they finished together.

  Thamalon's black eyebrows twitched in surprise. They were a stark contrast to his snow-white hair.

  "You've been talking to Larajin," suggested Tal.

  Thamalon nodded.

  "Does Mother know?"

  Thamalon's long pause indicated that she did not. "So she told you, did she?"

  "You could have told me yourself," said Tal. "After you warned me away from her last year, I thought-Well, never mind what I thought. But it was a lot worse than the truth."

  "We all have our secrets," said Thamalon, "as you demonstrated so dramatically."

  "I'm glad to be rid of mine, to be honest." "If you had come to me from the start-" began Thamalon.

  "If you told me the truth about Larajin…" interrupted Tal.

  Thamalon pointed a finger at his son. "Challenger's point'."

  Tal chuckled. "Where'd you get a sense of humor?"

  Thamalon looked hurt. "Your mother gave it to me for Midwinter," he said. "You'd remember if you spent more time at home."

  "I was… busy. Well, yes, you're right. These days I'll make more time. It'll be easier now that I don't have to worry about keeping a secret."

  "It occurs to me that we might all benefit from fewer secrets-at least among the family, mind you."

  "I'm not the only one-" began Tal.

  "No, Talbot, indeed you are not. I'm just as much to blame."

  Tal tried to mask his surprise. His father had never admitted a mistake in front of him before.

  "There's another reason I wanted to talk with you," said Tal. "I have a business proposition."

  By the expression on Thamalon's face, it was clear he had not expected those words. "Go on," he said.

  "Quickly left her shares of the playhouse to be divided among us all," said Tal. "Only I never took a salary, so she converted my pay to extra shares. And she counted the money I gave her in the beginning as a loan, with interest."

  Thamalon was nodding.

  "So I'm the majority shareholder in the Wide Realms playhouse," said Tal.

  "As well as the primary debtor," concluded Thamalon. "Is that it?"

  "The way I figure it, the amount due each year is just over half as much as the rent on my tallhouse."

  Thamalon's eyebrows jumped again. "Are you asking me to increase your stipend?"

  "No," said Tal. "Hear me out. I'm offering to give up the tallhouse and asking for the money instead."

  "Your mother would like having you back home," said Thamalon.

  "We've already talked. I'll go with her to the opera every once in a while."

  "You move back to Stormweather, or it's no bargain."

  "But-" Tal tried to sound indignant without whining. The more he thought on it, the more he realized Chancy had been right about that flaw in his character. "Throw in Eck-ert's salary," he said. "The costumes are getting a bit shabby."

  "What? You're in no position to bargain, young man."

  "You want me to live at home, it's going to cost you," said Tal. "And I'll throw in fifty shares of the Wide Realms at half value."

  "A hundred shares!" countered Thamalon. "With full determination rights."

  "A hundred silent only… and only if you and mother come to twelve shows each year."

  "Six," said Thamalon. "Shell never go for twelve."

  "Eight-and you don't bring Tamlin. I want that part in writing."

  "Done!"

  They shook hands to seal the bargain.

  *****

  Tal finished raking the playhouse yard and climbed up onto the stage for some shade from the hot summer sun. There was no one else in the yard, but he heard some of the women talking backstage. He made no effort at stealth, but he heard them long before they realized he was approaching.

  "… and Chaney if it's a boy," said Feena. She could barely contain her excitement.

  "What will Tal think about that?" asked Sivana clutching Feena's arm in a girlish gesture Tal never would have expected from her.

  "Tal thinks he needs to sit down," said Tal, "if I understand you correctly."

  He leaned on the rake for support, for the very idea of Feena bearing his child made him dizzy. He knew it was possible, but he had hoped it would not happen so soon. Running a business was more than enough responsibility for him. Parenthood was a greater task than he welcomed.

  Sivana laughed. It was a big, throaty sound that reminded Tal of Mistress Quickly. Since her death, Sivana had adopted a markedly matriarchal role among the players, playing mother to Tal's father. Tal didn't mind that, so long as it didn't cause friction with Feena or the other players. On the contrary, Sivana and Feena had become so close that Tal was beginning to worry more about their outnumbering him than quarrelling over his time and attention.

  "Oh, you big goof," said Feena, wiping away her own tears of laughter. "When was the last time you understood anything correctly?"

  "Well…" Tal knew enough that he left it there. He was too relieved to learn that he was not suddenly a father that he didn't mind the slight.

  "Hasn't Lommy told you, yet?"

  "Told me what?"

  "Maybe you should climb up to the heavens and have a peek inside?" suggested Sivana. "But be quiet about it."

  There was a ladder backstage, but it was faster to climb up the gallery rails and onto the stage roof. Both Sivana and Feena tsked at him as he took Lommy's preferred route.

  "One day," Sivana always warned him, "you'll fall right through that thatching."

  "Be careful up there," called Feena in a stage whisper. Tal crept along the thatching on all fours, trying to spread his weight as evenly as possible. As he approached the clarion door, he peered inside.

  "Lommy?" he called softly. As his eyes adjusted, he saw the ragged outlines of the tasloi's nest. He had rarely climbed up to their lair, where Otter spent most of his time. The reclusive tasloi was virtually the opposite of his outgoing, clownish brother.

  "Tal!" came Lommy's whispering voice, as did the sibilant sounds of Otter's response. Tal saw Otter curled protectively around an even smaller creature. Dark gray and wrinkly, it looked like a miniature tasloi-which is exactly what it was.

  Lommy clambered over the window sill and sat on the thatching with Tal, uncharacteristically calm. Usually the little creature was a trembling spring, ready to shoot in any directio
n unexpectedly.

  "I thought Otter was your brother," said Tal. "Otter brother," agreed Lommy, grinning. "Chaney little brother."

  "I see," said Tal, gazing fascinated at the mewling infant. While Quickly's insistence that the tasloi never improve their pidgin Common might make them more charming for the audiences, Tal never anticipated such a profound failure to communicate.

  "Tal big brother," said Lommy, climbing onto Tal's shoulder and clinging to his hair. "Tal happy?"

  "Oh, yes," said Tal. "Tal very happy. Dumbfounded, flabbergasted, astonished, and a few other big words, but Tal happy."

  They sat together on the roof, peering in every now and again to watch Otter cradling the baby. After a while, Lommy pulled Tal's ear affectionately and went inside to join his new family.

  *****

  "It was hard enough dealing with one family," said Tal, "but now I've got three."

  He and Feena lay on their backs in the yard of the darkened theater. They looked up at the waning moon as it dipped below the edge of the round roof.

  "You've been with the players for years," said Feena, "you've come to good terms with your parents, and Lommy and Otter take care of little Chaney themselves. How hard can it be?"

  "You have no idea," said Tal. "I just feel like I have to take care of everything these days, like I have to look out for everyone."

  "And you're complaining? I thought that's what you liked best?"

  Tal thought about that for a moment. "I do like it," he admitted. "It's better than having other people trying to look out for me all the time. But it's a lot of work."

  "So you're whining because…?"

  "I'm not whining," he insisted. He thought of Chaney and bit his lip. "All right, so maybe I was whining just a little."

  "And you'll quit it now."

  "And I'll quit it now."

  Feena slipped her hand into his. They looked up at the moon and the stars, dreaming their separate dreams until Tal spoke again.