"You seem, Kamen,” Husao observed dryly, “to have re-found your tender sympathies for mortals.” He slid a slow glance to Jacin-rei before turning it once again on Kamen. “One wonders if it can do anything but harm to those mortals. Even when you try to save them, they just seem to... slip through your fingers."
Unfair and rather cheap, but Husao had to at least try out a tentative defense. Kamen's wrath had been stirred, his Catalyst toyed with. There would be no quarter, not even for those who were just here to watch.
Kamen bared his teeth—a wolf's leer, fitting to his namesake god—and turned to Jacin-rei. “Fen, I'd like you to meet the Temshiel who's been posing as my patron, the Mage, though I think you'll be more familiar with the name by which his glamour is known.” He looked at Jacin-rei squarely, no smile now, only an honest compassion that nonetheless managed to manifest sharp and hard. “Fen, this is Vonshi."
It seemed to take far too long for it to sink in. Jacin-rei went blank again, the hand closed over his brother's tightening then relaxing, tightening then relaxing, while his expression slid from stunned-empty to confused to pure and profound wrath. Both hands snapped to the knives at his belts, and he was on his feet and coming for Husao in the time it took for his brother to gasp, “I know that name,” in bewildered surprise.
Kamen didn't move, just watched and kept his hold on Xari as Jacin-rei kicked the tea table out of the way, stumbled a little when his leg almost gave out, but kept his feet and leveled his blades at Husao's throat. “You knew.” Breathless and thin, and the hurt inside it was all too plain beneath the rage.
Husao didn't move. And strangely, he wanted to. He couldn't explain it. He wanted to reach out to the boy, set a hand to his shoulder, like he'd done so many times, to calm him, soothe him, reassure him. Damn it, he liked the boy, he'd made him those revolting sweet bean-paste cakes for the gods’ sakes, for years, and there was no reason in the world why the new hatred in those gray eyes should bother Husao so much—Catalyst or no, the boy was still only mortal—but it did.
"I knew,” he admitted.
"Did you know where she was?"
Husao cut a look to Kamen, lifted his eyebrow.
"Don't look at him,” Jacin-rei snapped. “Did you know Yakuli took my mother?"
Husao sighed and very gently lifted a hand and pushed the blade closest to his throat away. Jacin-rei merely whirled it smoothly and resettled it against the blue veins at Husao's wrist, effectively pinning his hand to the arm of the couch, then flicked the other knife beneath Husao's chin. Precise and faster than even Husao could follow. He could feel the fine-honed tips of both blades and yet neither of them even pricked the thin skin where they were set.
"Better tell him the truth,” Kamen warned with an annoying smirk. “I doubt even you can foresee his next move."
Too right. Husao grimaced. The boy was not only Untouchable, but he moved almost entirely on instinct, without thought, which made him almost impossible to foresee. Like Asai, Husao had only ever been able to predict Jacin-rei by concentrating on those around him, and though Husao's sight was fathoms deeper than Asai's, he'd still never been able to see Fen Jacin-rei himself with any real accuracy. He had, however, just witnessed a too-quick vision of quite a lot of blood, so it would be best to tread very carefully. Under other circumstances, death now would be inconvenient, at worst, but Jacin-rei knew how to make it so Husao couldn't come back, and he wasn't altogether sure Kamen wouldn't just stand there and watch the boy do it.
"I saw,” Husao admitted, tightening his mouth a little when the brother hissed a string of foul invective behind Jacin-rei, but Husao kept his attention on the knives and the hard gray stare boring into him. “You must understand, Jacin-rei: one mortal life carries no weight within the Balance. You would not have moved against Asai without cause, and you were the only one who could remove him with neither damnation from the gods nor the forewarning of his own sight. It only made it more... poetic that he was the one who taught you how to bring about his own end.” Husao shrugged, careful not to shift those parts of himself still veritably pinned at knifepoint. “You have lost very little, in truth. As Xari says, you could very well leave Ada now with your brothers and your sanity, and you would still be leagues ahead of any other Untouchable in the last century or so."
"You....” Stricken. Disbelieving. Enraged.
Husao frowned. The boy had to have known, but it seemed that actually hearing it out loud still shocked him. His eyes had gone glassy, and his skin was going to ash.
"Fen?” Kamen put in, and when the boy didn't acknowledge him, he shot a furious glare at Husao that really should have at least set his eyebrows on fire. “Fen, are you—?"
"My father, dead,” Jacin-rei breathed. “My mother... taken. My brother almost taken, my... my sister....” He swallowed, mouth quivering. “And you knew. All your teachings, all your kindnesses."
"Fucking hell,” the brother hissed behind him. “And I thought you were bad, Malick."
Kamen's smirk widened. “Oh, I am. Just in a different way.” He tightened his arm about Xari, jostled her, as though in affection. “Right, love?"
Husao ignored them. “They were meant truly, lad,” he told Jacin-rei kindly. “I wanted you—"
"You wanted me to do your wet work for you.” Jacin-rei's voice was still hoarse, but the shakiness of only a second ago was morphing into something harder, colder. “And a mad Untouchable would have been worthless."
It would likely be a mistake to smile and pat the boy approvingly for his deductions, so Husao remained still and silent.
"That night.” Jacin-rei's eyes went a little foggy, and both knives relaxed their pinions very slightly. “The door opened. It was locked, I know it was locked, but it opened. I heard....” He shook his head, betrayal and deep, dark wrath curling together in his gaze, sending it nearly half-wild. “You knew even before he did."
Husao recognized this look, breathed a little easier, because he knew the boy very well, and Jacin-rei was nothing if not ever-anxious for stern direction when his mind began to wander into places he didn't really want to see. “Look at it with your head, boy, and not with your heart. Your emotions make you addled, they always have done.” Husao was gratified when the gray eyes snapped into focus, a little less so when they narrowed, sharpened. “Of course I knew. It was I who veiled your brothers and your sister as they huddled in Asai's wilderness.” Jacin-rei flinched, ever so slightly, and Husao took it as progress. “Had I not, Asai would have had them before that first night was through. I protected them to the very limits of my laws—for you."
"Because you needed me sane. Because you needed the threat. Because my emotions make me addled and weak, and you needed me just sane enough to obey when you pointed the Catalyst at his beishin."
"Of course not.” Husao breathed an impatient sigh, almost shook his head, but the blade was still far too constricting. “I needed you strong. I needed you ready. I needed you to draw Kamen into your scope, to give you the proof that would incite you and the strength that would enable you."
"He told me you'd come,” Kamen put in, maliciously helpful, his light-brown eyes near sparking with dark amusement and scorn.
And how did all of this get to be a veritable trial for Husao, when it was Xari who'd been attempting to take Kamen's Untouchable away? It wasn't fair.
"And told you to kill me if I didn't,” Jacin-rei agreed softly, then he paused, head atilt. “And my family?"
Husao didn't answer. Without Jacin-rei to dangle them over as impetus, his family had no value, but for possibly to the Adan. Husao might have alerted Kamen to their existence, left it to him, but then... he might just as easily have simply forgotten about them altogether, left them to starve or survive as Fate decided. Looking into Jacin-rei's eyes, Husao did not need to be told that admitting as much would be... unhealthy. And yet, he somehow couldn't make himself speak a lie.
He needn't have done either—Jacin-rei knew. Husao could see it in the wrathful
cant to his expression, the pain beneath it. “I... see,” Jacin-rei wheezed, windless, then he jolted enough to make Husao flinch as sharp blades pressed his skin. Jacin-rei gasped and growled, “Shut up, shut up!"
For a moment, Husao thought the half-crazed command had been directed at him, and the awareness of the knives overrode the indignant annoyance at the impudence. But then Kamen stilled, said, “Fen?” in such a way that it made Husao take a sharper look at Jacin-rei.
Anger. Confusion. Betrayal. And very little clarity.
"You told him to kill me,” the boy said.
Husao should perhaps tread a little more carefully. “I did not want you dead, lad. Understand.” Husao paused and took a moment to think about what he should say, because he'd seen that vagueness in Jacin-rei's eyes before, but he'd never seen it mixed with such hatred. “If you didn't join them, yes, you would have been got out of the way. Your Samin would have done the deed, because even that first night, Kamen was too besotted and would have balked. I couldn't have you going back to Asai, Jacin-rei. Nor could I have you running about loose. And I knew that you would... appeal to Kamen."
Kamen snorted, snarked, “Perfect, Husao, that'll calm him down,” then he snorted again at the brother's low, indecipherable mutterings, but Husao was almost certain he made out the word pimp hissed out on a sneer. He scowled.
"So, you used me to gain his complicity.” Jacin-rei's head tilted to the side, a listening posture Husao had seen too many times, but now... it just didn't seem right. The boy had Kamen's ring, after all. “Why?” Jacin-rei whispered.
"He was using my son's Blood!” Husao burst out, then he sucked in a quick breath and made his heart slow its rhythm, made his breathing even out. “Control—that was all Skel ever wanted. To level the ground, arm both sides equally. Balance. He never would have used the amulets and spells the way Asai has done—he would have killed Asai himself and damn the suns, if he'd known. But he was in love, just as you—"
"Shut up, shut up, shut up, enough!"
Jacin-rei's voice was low and rust-raspy, and again, Husao wasn't even sure it was directed at him, but it stopped him, nonetheless.
Not Xari, though. “You see now, lad,” she said—quite bravely, Husao thought, considering Kamen's arm was still locked around her, and his jaw was set in cold anger. Then again, Kamen couldn't kill her, and though he could be maliciously creative in the ways of hurting a person, still, one could recover from hurt. “The machinations are too large and far-reaching. They began before you were even born. Husao saw you before Asai did—he attached himself to Asai the night Asai bargained for you with your father. He showed Asai the vision, pushed it into his mind as though it were Asai's own."
Husao's mouth pinched in tight. Thank you, Xari. He wasn't surprised, but he was annoyed. He'd only come to observe, after all. He'd had no intention of making things more difficult for Xari, but it seemed she had no compunction about making things more difficult for him. And the damnable flashes of splattered blood would not stop lurking just at the edges of his sight.
"I needed you,” Husao said, calm and frank. “I needed Kamen. Neither of us could kill Asai ourselves, and he was more powerful than any maijin, even his own mother. He was virtually invulnerable, except to the one person he could not foresee. Planning was his mistake. I could see his ripples in Fate and work them against him, but he couldn't see yours. It's why your presence was imperative. No one knows what you'll do—not even you. It makes the future harder to predict, even for me. You're already a blank spot in Fate. Your effect on it is colored ever in gray. But put you with Kamen, the one who craved vengeance almost as deeply as I, the one who would gladly help you find yours...."
He trailed off, let Jacin-rei fill in the rest, because the boy wanted to see it, wanted it all to have a purpose he could understand and take for his own. A directionless paladin looking for a lord to lead him, give him aim, and Husao had given him Kamen, had virtually handed them both Asai—what more could they want from him?
"What d'you want to do, Fen?” Kamen asked—no concern, only mild curiosity.
Husao nearly rolled his eyes. He respected Kamen, truly was grateful for the role he'd played in Husao's own vengeance, but sometimes he couldn't help but feel that all that power was wasted on one who was still too close to mortal.
Jacin-rei was still glaring at Husao, cold and maybe slightly less deranged than before, but with no less hatred. It still twisted foolish regret in Husao's chest. He truly did like the boy, after all.
"I don't know,” Jacin-rei rasped. “Do you want him dead?"
Kamen shot Husao a look that was both snide and appraising. Husao's lip curled. How very... sweet—offering to kill him for his lover. Husao wondered if this was their idea of romance.
"Don't care, really,” Kamen said. “It's your quarrel, your choice."
Jacin-rei peered over at Xari, jerked his chin. “What about her?"
"Xari?” Kamen's arm tightened around her shoulders, and he grinned. “Aw, she only wants what's best for you, dontcha know.” The sarcasm all but dripped. “It's up to you. She'll walk out of here and head right to Yakuli, so think about it.” He shook his head and peered down at Xari. If Husao didn't know better, he might have said he saw real regret in Kamen's chiding look. “Wolf would've taken you, y'know, even without your son's blood on your hands. You should have thought this through a little better. You watched Umeia make her mistakes, and then you came right behind her and made them again.” His mouth went thin, cruel. “You're veiled until you leave the Girou, and that's only to protect everyone else, but after you leave here, you're on your own. If Fen doesn't kill you now, I mean."
Jacin-rei turned back to Husao, stared at him for several long, silent moments, then shook his head, lowering his knives. “I was promised by the Mage that the man I wanted would twitch at the end of my blade."
It was all Husao could do not to show his relief. His cautious exhilaration. The blood spatters slowly faded from the edges of his vision, but that was now almost inconsequential. This was what he'd been watching for. Husao nodded. “You were."
"I was also told the Mage keeps his promises."
"He does.” Husao tilted his head, shot a look at Xari. “Kamen is right—she will leave here and go to Yakuli, warn him."
Xari's mouth tightened, but she said nothing. And what had she expected? She'd hardly shown Husao any loyalty.
"She won't need to,” Jacin-rei said. He sheathed his knives and began a slow limp toward the door, pausing only long enough to snap up a clump of fabric on the couch beside Husao that resolved itself into a rumpled duster. Jacin-rei dragged it on as he walked away. “I've already made other plans. I don't really expect you to keep your word, but it would be nice."
Kamen blinked, didn't even try to hide his dubious surprise as he said, “What?” He let go of Xari and followed after Jacin-rei. “What plans?” he wanted to know, pressed, “Hey, Fen,” and disappeared down the small foyer that led to the hallway. He was only out of sight for a second before he returned. “Either of you touches the earth-bound, and I'll do to you what Fen did to Asai, and damn the suns.” He pointed at Xari. “You—run away. I see you again, you die.” Then to Husao as he pointed at the brother, “Keep him here and don't let her touch him,” as though he had the right to make any demands of Husao, and then he was gone again
Husao was left with the earth-bound and Xari. Both Husao and Jacin-rei's brother merely watched as Xari backed away from them with a cagey look then lifted her chin and faded to shadow. Husao turned to peer back at the door, but the brother shifted a flat look on him, kept it there. Husao gazed back at him levelly, expecting to be compelled to sit through an indignant defense of his brother, perhaps, or acidic vitriol for manipulating him and his family.
The boy only shook his head, curled his lip. “Fucking Temshiel,” was all he said.
* * * *
"Fen, damn it, hold up!"
How, Malick wondered, could the man still move so
fast, when he was making an obvious effort not to limp? He only caught up relatively quickly because of the inevitability of the stairs slowing Fen down a touch. Malick took hold of Fen's arm through the sleeve of the duster, and debated making a point of mentioning that it was the only one he had left, since Fen had gotten the other one sliced up. Instead, he merely held on as Fen navigated down the first step, surprised when Fen let him.
"What other plans?” Malick demanded. When Fen had left the baths, he hadn't seemed capable of even thinking straight, let alone planning, and Malick could only wince at the multitude of “plans” that might have presented themselves to one so grieved and muddled.
Then again, Fen had been awfully damned controlled with what had just happened in Malick's sitting room. He'd been more than controlled—he'd been almost irresistible in his calm threats and clever maneuvering of both Temshiel and maijin, directing the questioning perfectly to gain the closest thing to the truth either Xari or Husao would give, and then deciphering yet more truth out of the lies and the things they wouldn't say. Malick had been semi-hard since Fen had drawn his knives, and had been wondering just how sick and callous it would be if he shoved everyone else out the door, even if it would have been for nothing more than a quick cuddle or an intimate look. Until Fen had abruptly left the room and headed downstairs.
Whoa, wait a minute— “Hey, what are you doing going downstairs?” Malick hitched up on the second step and held fast to Fen to make sure he did too. He didn't necessarily care to ask Husao to adjust the memories of all those people down there again, and there was no way he was asking Shig. “Fen, talk to me. What's going on?"
Fen tugged a little at his arm, but when Malick didn't let go, he seemed to consider his own chancy balance, weigh a tumble down the steps against all the other injuries... sighed. He turned to Malick, no longer hazy-eyed and tottering on the edge, but clear and calm, gray eyes like twin lakes on a winter's night, flecked with the phantoms of amber stars.
Wolf's-own: Weregild Page 33
