As Canis moved into the room, the people closest to him gasped and moved aside, which drew the attention of those who stood closest to them, who then gasped and drew aside in their turn.
As this wave made its way through the crowd in front of Canis, Corbin looked up to see the expected red head move into the room, but he couldn’t understand why the people were moving so far aside from him. Dressed as a trusted slave, he should have been able to move virtually unnoticed. He didn’t see the wolves until Canis had come considerably closer to the throne, and by now, the king had also noticed the unusual movement through the crowd.
As the last of the people moved aside, Canis saw Patro turn to see what had attracted the attention of the king. His mouth gaped and he started to move aside with the crowd, only to freeze when the gray Wulfi mirrored his move, then cut him from the herd as the rest of the spectators were allowed to draw away, but he was kept standing out conspicuously.
Trying to hang onto what looked like the shredding of his plans, Corbin moved to stand closer to the king, but with a lightning move, the small dagger that had been hidden in Canis’s sash appeared imbedded and quivering in the floor at his feet.
Canis stepped up onto the dais and the king rose to meet him with his hand reaching for a sword he was not wearing. Young Dagon move closer to Santos’s other side. With him, stood Folco, Earl, and Santos’s brother, Dagon, a short distance away was Tory and James. All of them were armed and poised, but they were uncertain what they were poised to do. Canis returned his attention to the king.
With a casual hand, he held out the scroll. “I was told to give you this so I could get close to you. Corbin…” he looked toward the man, “…and Patro…” he glanced at him as well, “…wanted me to kill you.” Santos took the scroll and unrolled the blank parchment.
Corbin might still have been able to prove Canis’s words a lie, but Santos had turned to him for an explanation, and he’d seen the look on Corbin’s face; he also spotted the mistake Corbin had made. Tiny though it was; on Corbin’s hand, plainly visible as it gripped his dagger hilt, was the royal signet ring. He had forgotten to remove it this time – this time it was supposed to be his. He felt it the instant the king’s eyes rested on it. He drew his dagger and lunged at Santos.
Canis covered the last two steps and grabbed Santos before anyone else on the dais could react. He pulled himself the remaining distance necessary to put himself between Corbin and the king.
Corbin’s dagger tore through the material of Canis’s white tunic and penetrated deep between his ribs. Red stained the white and Canis gasped and clenched at the king’s shoulders for support. Dagon, Earl, and Tory, cut between Canis and Corbin, but they weren’t in time to save Canis’s life. Nor were they in time to be first to kill Corbin for his crime. Terrorr got there first and his black jaws came away stained with blood.
Patro tried to run, but gray Danggerr bore him to the ground with vicious fury. His head struck the edge of the dais and his neck broke. He too had paid for his crime before he could suffer the humiliation of a trial.
Canis sagged to his knees and reached futilely for the hilt that protruded from his back. Still gripping Santos’s sleeve, he closed his eyes and healed himself. It was either that, or die here with these betrayers.
When the knife had fallen free from the closed wound, Canis touched the white stone between his brows and felt it come away in his hand. He opened his eyes and blinked at it. He had never been able to see it very well. He wasn’t in the habit of looking in a mirror.
He rolled the robin’s egg-sized stone between his fingers. He marveled at the sparkling star that twinkled in its core. He looked up at Santos and saw his scrutiny. His gaze focused on Santos’s crown, and there, in the center, was a spot of the perfect size. It was as if the long-ago maker of that crown had planned for this day.
He climbed slowly to his feet and looked at the king who watched him closely still. He set the stone into that spot and the spark that welded it into place caused a wave of gasps and murmurs to wash across the room.
“My people are constantly in search of the stars. I think…I think the Mother thinks that you will be a very important star,” said Canis. He considered the stone for a moment longer. “Either that or She considers you a healer. I think she has a great healing in mind for you and yours.
Canis looked around at what surrounded him, the bodies and blood, the silent crowd, the men surrounding the king. He reached up to the metal circlet that enclosed his neck. It came away in his hand and he held it up. “Slavery is an insult to the Mother.” He dropped the circlet on Patro’s chest. “Too many people are enslaved for simply being vulnerable.”
He stepped down from the dais with the Wulfen again at his side, and headed toward the door. He passed a very pale woman dressed in a shiny red silk dress that fit her figure closely until it flowed out and down to brush the floor. At her throat, resting on a new silk ribbon was a wolf brooch. He reached out to lift it from her skin, ignoring her recoil. As he scrutinized the brooch, then her increasingly pale face, several clues fell into place. He gripped the brooch in a hard fist and drew her close. “Where is he?”
“I…I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she replied in a quavering whisper that, nonetheless, carried across the silent chamber.
Santos had seen his pause and had noticed who he was interested in. He stepped down from the dais, followed by his son, his brother, and the others, but he had also heard the question.
“You wear this as a trophy. He won it for you at the fight club. His scent is all over you. It was you and your men who captured me.”
“Christina? Canis? What is going on here?” asked Santos.
Canis answered without looking away from the woman. “I am speaking about a man I knew as Stanton. You remember him, Dagon? But he is a slave, so perhaps he has another name now. Are you so bold that you keep him here, or do you keep him at the arena?”
Canis’s words were making some connections for Master Dagon. “That would explain why we never found him. I never thought to look in the arena.”
“Christina?” Santos tone asked for explanations just as his hand sent guards in different directions. Both her quarters and the arena would be searched.
“I saw him last at the fight club,” said Canis and more guards left on the run. Everyone knew of the fight club; careful attention would be given to any bodies found around there.
The lady in fine, shimmering red looked old now. Her black hair and careful makeup no longer hid her age, and tears slid down her cheeks. “I know nothing,” she insisted, but the hint of desperation was clear. “I did nothing wrong. You can’t prove anything.” The last sentence was uttered in a whisper that hovered on the brink of being a whimper. “Santos, you wouldn’t do this to me, would you?” She sought to throw herself at Santos’s feet, but Canis still clutched the brooch and the silk wouldn’t part.
“Sister, your manipulations are over. If this man Stanton, or even his body, is found…”
Canis looked hard at Santos when the word ‘sister’ left his mouth. “She is your sister?” Using his grip on the brooch, he thrust her into Santos’s arms roughly and drew the man’s belt knife. As she shrank back into Santos’s grasp, Canis cut the silk. “This…is mine.” He handed the knife back and spun away to stride off across the hall. No one had moved into the path he had created with his entrance.
“Are you coming back?” asked Santos.
Canis turned back to face him.
“I seem to be short a bodyguard,” continued Santos.
Canis glanced at young Dagon. “You are his son?” he asked.
Dagon nodded with a tentative smile; he still had the look of shock in his eyes.
“I will be back,” he said. He stepped into the crowd and relieved a man of his cloak, which he threw over his white tunic.
Epilogue
Canis found Cepheid and admired his tiny son and daughter. Both of them were only slightly bigger than his
two hands, but according to Cepheid, they were strong and healthy like their father. Unlike the one other baby he had seen, they had tiny nubs of teeth on both the top and bottom, as well as sharp canines, though there was room for little else in their tiny mouths. His son already had a healthy shock of fine red hair and his daughter had her mother’s black blotch. They were the most amazing things he had ever beheld.
As soon as Cepheid was strong enough, they moved into the palace. Santos allowed her to pick whatever apartment she wanted and watched in amazement as she turned it into a foreign nest of the clan, using much of the things brought from the den they had so recently lived in.
About Me
I am a self-published author and I live in the wilderness of Alaska. My connection to the outside world is restricted to a post office that is nearly thirty river miles upriver from where I live (Skwentna Alaska is on the map), a fixed wireless telephone, and recently, an internet satellite dish. We don’t own a car since there are no roads out here. The end of the closest road is at least sixty river miles downriver from here. From there, it’s another sixty-mile taxi ride to the next town of any size (Wasilla Alaska is on the map too). Needless to say, I don’t go to town very often.
Browse through my website - http://annalwalls.weebly.com/ - and see what else I’ve published and what might be waiting in line.
More of my Books
And there will be more on the way
Half-Breed Page 40
