by Jim Galford
Estin smiled but said nothing, mostly for his own safety.
His mate had a temper unlike any other creature he had ever met. Despite a certain poise and pride that she carried herself with normally, her anger was what people tended to remember her for. During the war, that had saved them many times over.
That thought hit Estin hard and he had to force himself to keep walking without letting the memories take him too roughly.
Just months earlier, they had survived a brutal attack by hundreds of undead that had massacred most, if not all, of their people. Many of Estin’s friends had died while he watched. He tried not to think about what had happened to their bodies, once the undead had secured the remains of their camp. In truth, he knew they were likely being used as new soldiers in that force.
“We’re here,” he said, trying to keep the somberness out of his voice.
Feanne touched his hand gently, letting him know without words that she recognized the dark mood and understood. Gentleness was not something she came to naturally, so the gesture meant much to Estin.
“Let us get this done and get out of here,” she said after a moment, placing a hand on her large stomach. “I do not trust Atall alone this long.”
“I would be more worried about Oria. Atall will just get bored and hunt something. Oria will actually look for trouble to...this isn’t helping, is it?”
Feanne’s glare and the slight twitch of her whiskers left no question.
Swallowing hard, Estin turned and headed into the large home they stood before.
The stone structure had once been opulent, but with the ruins around it in that section of town, few likely knew it still stood. That made it the perfect place for criminal activity that needed to stay just outside the public eye, though not so far as to be difficult to find when one wanted to.
Unlike the Altis thieves’ guild, this one left far less to the imagination. There were no hidden guards, mysterious traps at every turn, and bribed lowlifes stationed outside. Here, Estin had to assume that there were far fewer officials looking to crack down on the crime, as the building was as easy to walk into as any inn, with a doorman near the street entrance that just nodded at their passing. Though Estin had never tried, he guessed that the doorman would provide directions to anyone who asked.
Estin fully took the lead, with Feanne walking almost directly behind him. She had once insisted on leading the way into danger and anything that she thought might hold the possibility of danger, but the last month’s progression of her pregnancy had convinced her to let him take the risks for a change. It was one of the changes Estin appreciated, as it let him protect her without the effort of overcoming her urge to rush headlong into threats.
They wound through several halls and down a long corridor into a once-lavish room that looked as though it had been looted, scavenged, and then looted again for any scrap left behind. Though Estin had learned in an earlier visit that this place held many crime lords, each with their own agendas, this particular section of the building was where he was to meet with his particular employer.
“Ah, my favorite squirrel returns,” came a thickly-accented voice from the far end of the dimly-lit room. The small and somewhat greasy-looking elf grinned broadly at Estin, even as his two human guards glowered and moved a hand onto their weapons. “You have brought a friend, I see.”
Estin bit the inside of his cheek hard, tasting a little blood as his sharper teeth did some damage. He only hoped his annoyance was not visible.
This was the second thieves’ guild he had worked with and the second that had found a useless moniker for him. Though he did not know what breed of wildling he truly was, these were the days he wished he did know so that he could silence the people who guessed poorly.
“Still not a squirrel,” Estin reminded the man, guiding Feanne to a spot in the room where she was visible to the man, but where Estin felt he could likely defend her if things went badly. “Just looking for that work. You said I needed to prove I had mouths to feed.”
Feanne shifted uncomfortably alongside Estin. He knew she was unhappy about being viewed as anything less than a leader, but she managed to say nothing as the small man studied her. Likely, Estin would be hearing about this for some time.
“Honestly don’t care if you have a family and a whole clutch of little rodents running around,” the man noted with a shrug. “I wanted her here so you understand my position.”
Estin patted Feanne’s hand to quiet her as she gave a very faint growl.
“Your wife dies if you steal from me. Standard rules. It’s nothing personal. As far as we’re concerned, she’s the property that gets taken in trade if you don’t provide me with the property that I ask for…”
Closing his eyes briefly in dismay, Estin did not even try to hold back Feanne as she rushed the man’s desk, slamming her hands down on the surface. He could hear her deadly-sharp claws dig into the wood.
“I am no one’s property!” she snarled, shoving aside one of the guards.
The man was nearly half again Feanne’s size and likely double her weight, but her strength came more from her anger and inherent magical capabilities than from her physique. Though the casual push seemed not to even register on Feanne, the human tumbled backward, giving her and his boss looks of shock. The other guard attempted to look menacing, but made no attempt to get nearer to Feanne.
“I need your husband, man, pet, toy, or whatever you want to call him, to be loyal to a fault,” the elf told her, leaning forward, as though unconcerned about the ease with which she dismissed his guard. “Why would I not use you as leverage? Would you do any different in my place?”
Feanne turned just enough to give Estin a displeased look. He knew this would lead to a long argument later. Even if he had known the man would do this—which he had not—this job still meant the difference between his family starving and surviving comfortably for a while. He doubted Feanne would have chosen differently even if she had been expecting such treatment.
“I pledge on my honor as the leader of my pack that he will not betray you,” Feanne said, her voice abruptly calm. She rose to her full height—made somewhat less noble in appearance by the rounding of her stomach—and locked eyes with the elf. “Assuming you do not betray us and your task does not offend me, he will do as you ask.”
Estin opened his mouth to speak for himself, but then saw the sharp swish of Feanne’s tail. She was incredibly unhappy. Thinking better of his plan, he closed his mouth and stood patiently, waiting for either the guild master or his mate to tell him what to do.
“Why should I accept the word of a woman whose interests are served by the success of her man at getting me to pay for food and shelter? Would you not agree that your pledge stinks of opinion? Besides, we don’t normally allow married women to speak as though they are in charge.”
The man smiled broadly, even as Feanne remained coolly regal.
“Are you suggesting I would not punish him as severely as you would?”
That dropped the smile off the man’s face. To Estin, he looked almost predatory in that moment, which was remarkable when facing off against Feanne, whose very breed bore that look at all times.
“I would likely skin him alive if he stole from me,” the man practically purred. “I doubt the scolding of his wife will motivate him the same.”
“Estin,” Feanne called back to him, “please tell this man the things I have done to you as part of your training for the pack.”
Clearing his throat nervously, Estin stepped closer. “I’ve been clawed, bit, thrown around, stabbed, almost fed to a wolf, left to sleep on a mountainside in early winter with no shelter…and she makes me watch the children when they’re being mischievous.”
“And what did I do to Olis when he betrayed the trust of my pack?”
That question made Estin distinctly uncomfortable. The male wolf she was referring to had tried to wrest control of the pack of wildlings from Feanne.
“You ripped his throat out in f
ront of the pack.”
At that, the elf reclined in his chair.
“I would kill my own mate if he betrayed the trust I put in him, both for my safety and that of my children,” Feanne went on, now making a point of not looking at Estin. “Be mindful that I will just as willingly kill to defend him against betrayal. Name your job and I will let you know if I will hold him to my word.”
“Now you two…very interesting people,” the man mused aloud, tapping his nose with a finger. “No begging, no pleading. I like this way of business. Perhaps I need to find more of your kind. I think I have not ever been threatened by a pregnant woman I was not married to.”
“Just name the task.”
“Fine, fine. It is nothing so drastic as all this talk would lead one to think. I merely wish him to break into another man’s house, search the basement, and return to me with information about what he keeps there, as well as bringing me some paperwork. I have reason to think this man stole from an associate of mine and I wish to know if this is true. Your man will know this item when he sees it.”
Feanne nodded slowly. “No killing and no risk to my mate?”
“There’s risk…if he’s caught, they’ll probably kill him outright.”
Estin could see Feanne’s hands clench slightly, but he saw no reaction from the others. Likely, they were still seeing her act of callousness to his wellbeing, which was what she appeared to be going for.
At least he hoped she was pretending.
“What do we get if he survives?” asked Feanne, this time watching Estin. Her eyes were angry. Finally, looking back to the elf, she added, “I want the specifics.”
“He negotiated for a month’s supply of food, as well as shelter at an inn for just as long.”
“You will double that, if I am to endanger him on your behalf. He has some negligible value to me and your offer is rather small for the risk.”
The elf laughed openly, slapping the arm of his chair in amusement. “Some rodent scurries in here off the street with a clutch of kids and you want me to up my offer? I can find any number of others who can break in there just as easily.”
Feanne’s shoulders relaxed somewhat. Estin knew that meant she had a plan already. She had learned from her father to read people and predict how to manipulate them and he guessed that would be useful this day.
“We’re foreigners.”
“So?”
“You selected my mate because he was desperate and because he cannot be traced back to you. You may have others who will do the work, but how many are going to be unrecognizable if caught?”
A slight smirk creased the man’s lips, but he said nothing.
“So two months and whatever supplies he needs for the job?” Feanne pushed again. “One month of food and shelter if he dies without telling about you.”
“Done. Do I get to skin him if he fails and lives…or will you be presenting his remains?”
Feanne looked over at Estin again and then answered, “That depends on which of us catches him first. I might let the children maul him if he gets into that much trouble.”
Estin swallowed hard. The bluff was getting a little too believable for his liking.
“You have yourself a deal, fox.” The elf slid a piece of rolled parchment across the table. “The map to the location is on that. What will he need for the moment?”
Gesturing Estin to approach the table, Feanne deferred to him on that at least. Still, he could feel that anger radiating off of her.
“Swords,” Estin said. He had felt naked for the last few months without proper weapons. His claws were pitiful by comparison to Feanne’s and were hardly suited for keeping him alive if caught by guards. “I need two light blades. That and a book with healing spells in it. I misplaced mine.”
That last item caught the man’s attention and not necessarily in a good way.
“We don’t teach the poor and homeless to read in these lands,” he explained, giving a slight nod to the guard on his right. “I can get you something, but that is asking more than I care for at this point. Magic draws attention around here. If I get word of a squirrel throwing around spells…”
“You won’t. The book is to help keep me alive, not to perform tricks for children.”
“The first child I hear talking about a magic-tossing squirrel will be the end of our arrangement. Stop by tomorrow night on your way to the job. What you ask for will be ready.”
Estin began to turn as Feanne departed, then nearly yelped as she caught hold of him, digging her claws deeply into the fur at the back of his neck. She practically dragged him from the room and into the streets, where she shoved him against a large block of stone from a fallen building.
“This is not helping us,” she chided, rubbing a hand across the long bridge of her nose. “You make us out to be thieves and I am forced to go along with it. Now, we have no choices.”
“What else would you have me do?”
Feanne quickly pulled up her hood as a small group of elves passed by. They never looked in her direction, but she kept her face turned away until they were gone. “I would have you protect your family and not get yourself killed.”
“I can’t protect you if you starve to death.”
At that, Feanne started to walk away, but Estin grabbed her shoulders, shoving her against the same stone she had pushed him against. She attempted to fight back, but he managed to hold her firm. A look of surprise and dismay crossed her face as she tried to pull away.
“You could toss me around this whole town for hours if you were healthy,” he noted, trying to meet her eyes. She pointedly avoided his stare. “That stunt with the guard exhausted you. I can’t have you this weak, so close to giving birth. You may be willing to risk it, but I’m not.”
“I am fine,” insisted Feanne, trying to shove him away. When Estin did not budge, she relaxed as her ears flattened back. “Maybe I am weaker than I thought. There has to be a safer way, though.”
“Not today there isn’t. But if I do this, we have time to think of other ways to get food. It will at least get us through the birth.”
Feanne nodded, her jaw set firmly. She was not happy about being so dependent on him—or anyone for that matter, mate or not. She had said as much on a fairly regular basis over the last month.
“Feanne,” he said, brushing the back of his thick claws along her cheek gently, “I need you to trust me. I’ll make sure everything’s all right.”
Smirking slightly, Feanne cocked her head as she looked up at him. “Whenever you say that I should trust you and I make the mistake of listening, I either end up fighting for my life against legions of undead, or I end up otherwise inconvenienced,” she said as she motioned toward her stomach. “You bring trouble with every plan you have.”
Estin leaned close, resting his muzzle against Feanne’s in a wildling version of a kiss. “We’ll make it through this,” he promised her, practically whispering the words at her ear. “We lived through the worst the world threw at us. I won’t let you and the kits starve. That’s not the end we were meant for.”
“Then we should get back to them before they find a way to set the desert aflame.”
Feanne dug her fingers into Estin’s cheek—the sting of her claws something he had learned to cherish as a part of who she was—holding him close for a moment, before slipping free of his grip and hurrying back toward the desert.
*
After Estin spent the evening hunting with the kits for what little they could find in the way of lizards, small rodents, and several desert fruits, Feanne was the first to settle in as dawn began to show on the horizon. That left Estin at the entrance to their makeshift den, watching as the dunes began to glow with the reddish light of the sunrise.
Behind him, the tiny shelter they had finished digging out in a hollow area between several deeply-set stones lay nearly silent, the quiet only broken by Feanne’s occasional faint snore.
Estin pulled his legs under him as he sought to rela
x himself, letting the first light of the day wash away the tensions of what he had put his mate through. Each time he thought he might be able to ease away his stresses, either thoughts of whether he was ready to deal with helping Feanne through her birth, or painful rumbles of his empty stomach would pull him back to the place in his mind he had hoped to escape.
Despite Feanne’s belief that they could get by without resorting to deals with the underbelly of the city, Estin knew that they were just barely surviving. For several weeks now, he had ensured that nearly every scrap of food that was not for the kits was going to Feanne. It had taken far more skill in sleight of hand than he thought he possessed, but since she had said nothing yet, he had to believe she was ignorant of this. He had hoped it would be temporary, but after so long, his strength was fading and he worried that after much longer, he might not make it back from hunting one night.
Blinking back the morbid thoughts, Estin noticed that Oria and Atall were scurrying up the sandy rise toward their makeshift home. The two kits—Estin reminded himself that he needed to stop thinking of them as children, but knew it was not going to be an easy change for him to make—were checking for anyone following them as they darted between the dunes, trying to conceal their path like their mother had taught them.
“Dad, you’ll never guess—” began Atall, but Oria pounced him, shoving his face into the sand.
“We found some extra food,” Oria cut in, darting out of Atall’s reach when he came up clawing at her.
Running to Estin’s side, the fox child knelt and pulled a large sack off her frayed belt, setting it down in front of Estin. She gave him an odd look and then said softly, “Don’t worry, we aren’t hungry.”
Estin smiled back at her, thankful for her constant attention to things going on around her. Much like her mother when she was at her best, Oria knew what everyone was doing, even if they meant to hide it. Likely, she had known for weeks that Estin had been slowly starving himself to keep Feanne healthy.
“Stop torturing your brother,” Estin warned her, lowering his head in a slight bow of thanks. He took the sack from her graciously. “Someday, he’ll be bigger than you and won’t put up with it.”
