"So am I."
"Battle-clan trained?"
Kynyr tensed for an instant. Neither he, nor Finn, had let that part out concerning their training. It paid to let people underestimate them. Kynyr sucked in a breath and decided to tell Tempest all of it as a means of reassuring the old mon. Todd Sinclair. Guild and Battle-clan training. Don't go telling anyone that?"
"I won't."
* * * *
Kynyr had not troubled Malthus in over a week, although they continued to encounter each other at the Difficult Horse. The guardsmon usually had Cullen in tow, and Malthus had begun asking around about both of them. What little he could pick up concerning Kynyr had assured him the young wolf was no match for him. Cullen, on the other hand, had both an astonishing reputation with his blades and as Claw's toughest and most resourceful courier. The only thing that hampered the one-eyed lycan was his obsession with the whores. However, that played nicely into Malthus hands, and he felt certain that the next time Claw sent Cullen out, Heironim would make certain the obnoxious lycan did not return.
Malthus thought he had every thing resolved, and nothing more to worry about as he rode back to his sheeling to work on his new house some more before dark, only to find Tempest waiting for him. The priest was seated on a tree round in the yard with his staff across his knees. Tempest stood when Malthus arrived, and approached him with a stern look.
Dismounting, Malthus tied the horses to a tree and faced the priest, wondering what this was about. What can I do for you? Is this about my nieces? Are they misbehaving?"
"Not at all. They are good students. This is about Beth."
Malthus rocked back on his heels and nodded. Beth? What about Beth? Is she okay?"
"That's a good question. Beth is a good mon. But she is a homely woman. And she knows it."
"I don't know where this is going."
"Perhaps nowhere, perhaps everywhere. Rumor has it that you are sleeping with Beth."
The calm tone of Tempest's voice irritated Malthus, who felt as if the priest was playing games with him. And you want to know if I am? I don't think that is any of your business."
"Beth is a very vulnerable woman. She is a member of my congregation, and a great benefactor of it. Both of her time and of the land for us to build on."
Malthus glanced around for Nikko. The lawgiver did not appear to be there. And that makes it your business?"
"Yes, it does. I want to see her treated fairly."
"I haven't promised her anything. You are familiar with the lycan term, like the wild cousins and all that it implies?"
Tempest sighed and lowered his head. So you are sleeping together."
Malthus lips curled back in a sneer. Would you rather I had said that I was jacking her, priest?"
"That's a harsh way to put it."
"Yes, it is. But that's what you came to hear, wasn't it? And that's what I am doing. Malthus grew irritated, his contempt for this flower-kissing, tree-hugger priest showed on his face and in the angle of his stance.
Tempest frowned at him. It is very evident that she's in love with you. I can't see why."
"She knows I don't love her. It is strictly like the wild cousins."
"What if you get her pregnant? Has that crossed your mind?"
Malthus shrugged. It's unlikely. Lycans aren't as fertile with humans as they are with each other."
"You seem to know a lot about lycans."
"I grew up around them. There is a large lycan community in Dragonton."
"You've been seen walking with Merissa."
"So now we get down to it, Malthus snarled. I won't stop seeing Merissa."
"How does Beth feel about this?"
"It doesn't matter how Beth feels about it. I've told her I don't love her."
"And Merissa? Does she know about Beth?"
Malthus straightened, his voice going chill. Are you threatening to tell her?"
"I am. Merissa's already had her heart broken once by a lover who left her."
Slewing his eyes around to check the area, Malthus ascertained that Tempest was, indeed, alone. I don't think you'll be telling anyone, priest."
"What?"
Malthus hand shot out and pressed over Tempest's heart as he grabbed the priest by the shoulder to hold him steady for the kill. Black energy slammed into Tempest's chest. A loud groan of agony climbed up Tempest's throat, and escaped his parted lips. The priest's eyes bulged in shock, and he gasped for breath. His heart pounded as if ready to rip through his rib cage.
"Willodarus! Tempest invoked his god, struck Malthus with his staff, and staggered free. He faced off, with his chest heaving and his staff raised.
Malthus cursed. The priest was stronger than he had expected: that first charge should have stopped his heart. Tempest jabbed at Malthus stomach. Malthus sprang to the side, caught hold of the staff, and jerked it above his head, bringing Tempest stumbling toward him. He spun the staff, forced it from the priest's grasp, and tossed it into the trees near the horses, which caused the animals to shift uneasily. Malthus hand shot out and touched the hollow of Tempest's throat before the priest could draw away from him. A spell plunged through the aged flesh.
Tempest's lips formed the word sa'necari, but no sound came out. His hand went to his throat as a look of horror came over his face. He mouthed the word no, and backed up two steps, turning to flee.
Malthus kicked Tempest's knee, shattering it. The leg gave and the priest fell into the dirt. Snarling, Malthus kicked Tempest in the chest, sending the older mon onto his back, and he pinned him there with his boot heel grinding into the hollow beneath Tempest's breastbone. Time to die, old fool."
He dropped all of his weight into the pit of the priest's stomach and straddled him. The breath whooshed from Tempest's lungs, leaving him stunned and sobbing for air.
Malthus snagged Tempest's mane and twisted his head to the side as he slammed his palm to the left side of the priest's chest. The loose wool robe shifted under Malthus hand, bunching up. He shoved his hand inside Tempest's robe, feeling the slick aged skin beneath his palm. Dark power constricted around the priest's heart.
"Don't fight me, Tempest, Malthus said with venomous compassion. It won't hurt as much ... or as long."
Sobbing and gasping as the unrelenting torment increased, Tempest grabbed Malthus hand, trying vainly to force it away. Flashes of pain shot along Tempest's left arm as the pressure built in his chest. Dizziness enveloped him, and the priest felt like fainting; yet Tempest knew that to lose consciousness was to die. He blanched, breaking into a cold, clammy sweat.
With the strength from a thousand rites, Malthus held steady, shrugging off Tempest's efforts to free himself, continuing to flood Tempest's chest with the deadly magic that was slowly and steadily rupturing the organ. Tempest's hold weakened. Malthus drank in his terror and anguish, savored his pain, and fed deeply upon it, pleased at how hard the priest was dying. Tempest had turned out to be a better psychic meal than Malthus had anticipated.
Malthus cock hardeneda frequent sa'necari reaction to killing someone, due to their necromantic natures enhanced by the rites. He increased the flow of energy. Tempest's eye lids fluttered, his lips parted with drool coming from the corners, his fingers slid away from Malthus wrist. The necromancer timed the struggling irregular beat of Tempest's heart.
"Your suffering is nearly over."
"My god ... have mercy... Tiny convulsions rippled through Tempest, his body jerked and twitched briefly, and then stilled. His pupils became fixed and staring. Within moments, Tempest looked several hours dead, with a deep purple lividity along the back of his neck, his mouth locked into a grimace.
Malthus released his grip on Tempest's hair and sat back, licking his fangs, wishing he dared to sink them into the priest's body. It's over old, mon. You died deliciously."
He extended his necromantic senses into the dead flesh, checking it closely to see if anyone would be able to tell that it had not been a heart attack that killed the
priest. Once he had satisfied himself that it would pass a Reader's examination, Malthus carried Tempest's body to his packhorse and tied it down, covering it with a blanket. He retrieved the priest's staff and shoved in under the saddle flap. It was best to get this over with before evening when the lycans would be returning home from their fields and shops. He would leave the body in the forest well away from his home.
Now there was only Nikko to be dealt with. And possibly Kynyr. It would not do to forget about Kynyr.
* * * *
The camp's children sat in the little schoolroom on benches behind long tables. Nikko sat at the front in his chair beside the slate board. They were waiting for Tempest, who taught the second half, religious studies. They had arrived back from their break with bright, expectant faces, for everyone loved Tempest's lessons, which were filled with tales of gods, monsters, and heroes.
Morning turned into early afternoon and still Tempest had not arrived. Nikko began to worry. He watched the children start to fidget, crossing and uncrossing their legs, drawing on the tables with their fingers, shifting on the benches. The little boys began to pick at and poke the little girls. He wanted to reprimand them for it, but he felt restless himself and remembered too well how it had been when he was their age. Why is Tempest making them wait so long?
"Go outside and play, but don't go far. I'll find Tempest and see what's keeping him."
The children rushed from their seats without a backward glance, and Nikko went to the rear door of the schoolroom that he had helped to build with such loving care. The rear door led into a U shaped hallway. The door to his right led into the shrine itself. He turned left and then right, passed the door into the outside, right again brought him to the door to Tempest's apartments first on his left and another door into the shrine on the right beyond it.
He knocked at Tempest's door and received no answer, beyond the frantic barking of Tempest's fuzzy, little dog, named Moss. Nikko's brow furrowed. In the four years that Tempest had been here, the priest had never failed to notify Nikko when he would be away and where he could be reached in an emergency. The two of them worked hand in hand together.
Nikko let himself in. Moss leaped on him, whining frantically. Like many lycans, Nikko had a strong affinity for natural canines. He disrobed, changed into a wolf, and settled on the floor to ask Moss when was the last time it had seen its master. What the dog communicated to Nikko disturbed him. Moss had been locked up here since early yesterday, without food or water. That was not like Tempest. He would never have left Moss uncared for. Usually, when he was going away, he brought Moss to Nikko's mother to watch. Tempest was a kind soul.
Nikko changed back and dressed. Moss watched him, periodically giving his plumed tail an uncertain tock tock back and forth. Nikko went into the kitchen and returned with a bowl and Moss leash, buckled it on, and took him outside. He tied Moss to a tree and dipped him some water from a barrel. While Moss lapped water, Nikko walked to the center of the main yard.
"Has anyone seen Tempest? Nikko shouted. Anyone at all? He didn't show up to teach the children."
"Maybe he's gone to the next village, Beth said. He does that sometimes."
Nikko shook his head vigorously. Not without informing me so that I could arrange a substitute for him."
People began gathering down wind of him, watching him in a manner that made Nikko uneasy. None of them came close enough for him to get a good sniff of their emotional scents, not that he normally intruded in that manner. The young lycans who worked at the camp came closer than the rest, hands on their hips, regarding him with what? Hostility? Contempt? Nikko wished they would come nearer so that he could get a whiff of them. The lycans among them would be shielding their emotions, of course, so that their scent did not broadcast as strongly. But the others...
Malthus strode up to him. Have you checked his home?"
Why had Malthus come forward? The way that the others hung back and regarded Malthusit was almost like he was their leader. His nostrils flared and he tried for a scent clue from Malthus. Malthus was one of the mostly tightly shielded humans that Nikko had ever encountered. Yes. Moss hasn't had care for two days."
"Check the taverns and infirmary, before you start worrying people, suggested Shalto in a disparaging tone. You worry too much, Nikko."
Nikko scanned the crowd but no one seemed ready to join or support him. No one offered to help. I suppose. Nikko walked off with his shoulders slumped. But this isn't like him."
"When you've checked every place else, then come back here and we'll get a search going, Shalto said, following his words with a derisive noise.
Nikko scowled, his insides quivering. He saw no respect in any of the faces before him, nor concern for Tempest. When had that changed? And how? I'll be back."
He retrieved Moss and headed for his home to entrust the little dog to his mother. Moss pulled at the leash frantically, looking in all directions for Tempest as they traveled. Nikko could smell the dog's worry. At a watering trough for horses, Nikko lifted Moss up so that he could get another drink. People came over to him as usual to speak and to pat Moss, and Nikko told them all that he had discovered concerning Tempest. He found that they gave him the normal amount of respect due to a lawgiver, unlike what was happening at the camp, which made him wonder why.
On arriving at his home, Nikko saw his mother Granta sitting on a bench under a shade tree chatting with a neighbor. Moss immediately jumped onto Granta's lap, whining.
"Is Tempest going someplace? she asked, rubbing Moss head.
"Tempest is missing. Moss had had no water or food since yesterday."
"Oh, poor little thing! Granta made some noises deep in her throat and Moss perked his ears listening. Give me the leash. I'll take care of him, Nikko."
"Tempest is old. And, he's human, the neighbor said. Something could have happened to him."
"I know. I'm getting a search going. People have already agreed to meet me on the Common in an hour."
* * * *
Malthus finished chopping the extraneous branches off another tree with Shalto and his cousin Oswyl as evening arrived. He wiped his sweating, dirty streaked face on his shirtsleeve, and grinned at them. If we're done for the night, I have a cask of passable mead at home."
Shalto's eyes gleamed and he nodded with a quick smile of appreciation. I could do with some of that."
"Then why don't both of you come home with me?"
They dragged the tree from the forested edge of the camp to the center of the yard, put away their tools, and then set off for Malthus place. They sat drinking mead on tree rounds in front of the house they had just finished laying the foundation for yesterday and eventually the talk of women came round, as Malthus knew it would.
"I must admit to liking your custom of doing it like the wild cousins, Malthus told them, with a knowing grin. He dropped his hand to his crotch and made a humping gesture.
Shalto's eyes lit. Yah, I've been hearing rumors of you and Beth. He mimicked Malthus gesture. Wish I could get me some."
Malthus almost laughed at how easy it had become to draw the two sixteen-year-olds onto the path he wished them to walk. Ah, yes, Beth. She surprised me. I never expected her to be so experienced."
"Beth? Oswyl sounded incredulous.
Malthus ran his tongue over his lips and cocked his head, with a glance to the side. Well, yes. She's as talented and experienced as any doxie I've encountered and I've had women from as far south as Ocealay to as far north as Havensword in Creeya."
"Hsaaa! And here we have always thought no one'd ever touched her. I mean Shalto looked nonplussed.
"Then she's been more discreet than most here, Malthus said. If that's the case, I'm sorry I mentioned it."
"No, don't be, Oswyl said. I mean, for the common folks like us, doing it like the wild cousins is no bad thing."
"Then, maybe you should try her, Malthus suggested. Would you like another round? He gathered up the tankards.
"Sure
thing, Shalto said.
Malthus refilled the tankards from a barrel he had propped on a makeshift rack beside his sheeling. The walls on his house would start going up tomorrow.
"Look, if you don't have anything planned with Beth for tonight, maybe we'll stop by and see if she's willing to accommodate us, Shalto said.
"You'll find her more than willing, Shalto, said Malthus. She's been telling me she had her eye on you."
Shalto grinned and Oswyl nudged him.
Malthus grin turned evil. And she likes it up the ass."
The two young lycans looked at each other.
Malthus laughed. You're not very experienced, are you? I mean, you do know that the ass is tighter than a well used cunt, don't you?"
"I'd never thought of it, Shalto replied.
"Much tighter. Try it, you might like it. A snug sheath for your sword."
Malthus went on to describe the sexual practices of dozens of cultures, finding the two inexperienced young lycans a rapt audience. He trusted that, like all young males, they would brag to their peers once they had been with his slut. Then, should Merissa learn of his liaison with Beth, the lycan's reputation would be so completely soiled that Merissa would think nothing of his actions.
* * * *
Beth opened the door. Shalto leered at her with a knowing smile and Oswyl grinned over his shoulder. Her heart skipped a beat. The last group of children that had been living with her had been fostered out to other women living on the compound and she finally had the longhouse to herself again. Two nights ago, Malthus had told her he intended to start sending males to use her and that she was not to refuse them, no matter what they wished her to do.
She felt ill, but regardless of how hard her will struggled in its bindings, she could not get free. Come in."
Shalto drifted to the curtains of the half wall leading into her sleeping area.
"Can I get you anything? Beth asked.
Oswyl nudged Shalto.
"You, Shalto said. We hear you want it like the wild cousins."
Beth's head settled on her shoulder as she started unlacing her dress. She wished she were free to cry, but Malthus had forbidden her to do that in front of others.
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