Frank-SQuest

by Serpent's Quest [lit]

  "This looks bad, Finn. Get mounted and I'll hand him up to you. Ramsey shifted to his hybrid form and took Kynyr from him.

  "He's alive?"

  Ramsey nodded, turned, and shouted at their companions. Morcar, find Baroucha and have her meet us at the manor."

  Finn straightened, swung onto his horse, and extended his arms. Ramsey got Kynyr into Finn's arms, and the two of them managed to get the unconscious guardsmon settled in front of Finn. By then, Finn had begun to recover from the shock of finding Kynyr. I don't know what happened here, but this is no time to try and find out. Stick close and we'll get him home."

  All of the residents and workers at the camp had drifted away and the guardsmyn found themselves alone. They rode back through the village, drawing every eye as they passed.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CAHIRA

  The shutters on the airy windows of the kitchen stood open and the windows had been raised to let in the afternoon breezes to ease the early summer heat. It was already one of the hottest summers that Cahira Sinclair could remember. She sat at her kitchen table, peeling turnips to add to the stew she was making for dinner. Cahira had changed little over the years, beyond gaining laugh lines around her eyes and mouth; and remained much as Claw remembered her: a tiny blonde, barely five feet tall; cornsilk hair hanging in a braid past her hips; and a temper like a stung badger.

  A chill spread over her as if someone had dropped ice down her bodice. She laid the knife aside, returned the last turnip to the bowl, and reached with trembling hands for the golden chain around her neck. Cahira drew the chain out and stared at the azure stone, identical to the one that Kynyr wore. Ice coated the stone.

  "Kynyr! She screamed his name again and again and again, watching the very tip of the stone start to turn black. If the stone went entirely black, it would mean that Kynyr was dead.

  "Cahira? Todd Sinclair came in, grasped her shoulders, and gave her a small shake to bring her out of it. He was a big wolf, six three and scarred by battles with things that left marks even upon lycans. It had been Todd who returned Cahira's letters to Tarrant, along with Tarrant's diaries, when the sa'necari executed him. Cahira had borne him three strong sons and a daughter when she finally found herself able to fall in love again.

  She turned eyes wide with dread upon him that flashed into anger as Cahira pulled herself together. She held the crystal up. They've hurt him ... bad. I'm going to him."

  Todd stared at the darkening tip and gave a slow nod. I'm coming with you. Give me a minute to fetch my blades."

  "Mama, we're coming too. Trevor arrived from the garden with his hoe propped against his shoulder at the same instant that his wife Mary rushed in through the side door.

  She had been out in the garden gathering herbs, something Cahira's aging knees could no longer cope with. Mary put her basket of herbs on the table. I'll fetch your satchels and your black case."

  "If there's going to be a fight, don't leave me out. Queran strode in from the sitting room. Trevor and Queran were as large as Todd.

  "Then arm yourselves. We won't know till we get there."

  They rushed to their tasks and returned.

  Cahira drew strength from Todd's steady patience that she had finally succumbed to ten years after Tarrant's death. I warned him."

  Todd wrapped his arms around her as if to shelter her from the world. What can we do?"

  Cahira extended her hands. Join hands."

  Todd released her, gripped her hand, and extended his other one. Trevor grasped his hand and reached for Mary. She tucked Cahira's black case under her arm and joined hands with her husband and his brother. Queran grasped Cahira's other hand and the circle was completed.

  A tingle swept through them and golden light over them. Their forms shimmered for an instant and Cahira made the jump to Wolffgard with them.

  They materialized in the courtyard, bringing a startled shout from a pair of patrolling guardsmyn.

  The front door opened and Ramsey stepped out. What's going on?"

  Todd scowled in disdain. Back off. We're here for my boy."

  "Your boy?"

  "Kynyr Maguire."

  "Oh. Ramsey blinked. We were about to send word..."

  "Don't need it. Todd headed for the door with his family in tow. Claw can tell it."

  Ramsey gave a puzzled nod and led them inside. The servants stared as they walked past.

  * * * *

  When Finn had found himself stuck with setting everything up while Kynyr rushed off into the village for his confrontation with Malthus, one of the first things that Finn had had to do was assign rooms for the new unit. Five suites on the second floor had to be divvied up between nine myn. He had had Kynyr's belongings moved to the largest of them, since that seemed fitting for a commander.

  Baroucha, the village healer, an ill-tempered crone with an unsavory reputation for vicious gossip and not being able to hold onto apprentices and assistants for long, arrived at the manor and chased everyone out of Kynyr's bedroom: except for Finn. Having grown up in a household dominated by strong-minded bitches, he had long ago learned to dig in his heels with them. His only concession was to sit in a chair in the far corner of the room and stay out of her way. It did not give him a clear view of her efforts, and he intermittently attempted to lean forward enough to see around her.

  Finn winced as Baroucha drew the blade out of Kynyr's back. Where Cahira would have pulled the blade out with care, Baroucha simply gave it a yank. She looked more like a broad, over-large toad than a wolf, and her breadth partially blocked Finn's view of her actions. Finn blinked. While he could not be certain of what he had seen, he could have sworn she had twisted the knife before she pulled it. Finn rubbed his eyes, deciding that he had seen it wrong; for such an act would have been crazy when he thought about it. Baroucha packed the wound to staunch the bleeding, cleaned Kynyr up and bandage the rest of his injuries.

  Baroucha wiped the blade off and examined it. Runed-silver. His lung is badly torn. She wrapped the knife in a bit of black cloth and laid it on the nightstand. Nothing can be done for him."

  "Nothing at all?"

  "I've stopped the bleeding. For all the good it'll do. Which is none."

  Finn felt as if he had been simultaneously hit in the head with a hammer and stabbed in the gut. He could not imagine life without Kynyr.

  Baroucha took a glass and a bottle of brown liquidso dark it verged on blackfrom her satchel. She set them on the nightstand and poured a generous measure into the glass.

  Finn frowned at the bottle. After years around Cahira Sinclair, Kynyr's mother Ulicia Maguire, and his sisters, Finn liked to think that he could recognize most drugs and potions that healers employed. However, he had never seen anything like that before. Finn started to ask what it was and then held back, knowing that they all tended to have their little secret recipes, and Baroucha would probably bite his head off for asking.

  Baroucha roused Kynyr, supported his head, and put the glass to his lips. Drink this and there will be no more pain."

  Kynyr had taken only a few swallows when the door slammed open. Golden light struck the glass and the contents vaporized. Baroucha yelped, dropped the glass, and spun around.

  A tiny, blonde bitch stood in the doorway snarling. Get away from my grandcub, Baroucha, or I'll rip your throat out!"

  "Cahira!"

  Baroucha edged away from the bed, glanced back, and saw that she had left the bottle and her satchel behind her. She turned to get them.

  "Grab her things, Finn. Cahira stalked toward Baroucha, shaking with rage; and although Baroucha had six inches and forty pounds on Cahira, the larger bitch retreated.

  Finn lunged across the room, grabbed the bottle and the satchel.

  "If that's what I think it is, I'm going to dice you up for stew meat."

  Cahira extended her hand and Finn placed the bottle in it. She unstoppered it, sniffed and the flush deepened to crimson across her face. Her eyes hardened. The Gentle Path.
What ... in the name of all that's holy ... did you bloody well think you were doing?"

  "A mercy. The blade's runed silver."

  "You? A mercy? Not bloody likely."

  Baroucha's expression when suddenly sly. I Read him. He's Tarrant's."

  "Grandson. Tell anyone and you'll wish you were dead."

  Seeing Cahira like this, Finn wished he could crawl under the bed and hide.

  "Get out of here, Baroucha. Once I've tended him, I'm coming to visit you."

  Baroucha fled.

  Finn set Baroucha's satchel down and stared at the bottle. What is that stuff?"

  Cahira put her case on the nightstand and shrugged out of the straps of her satchels. Close the door and sit down."

  Finn obeyed with alacrity.

  "How much of that did she get into him?"

  "Not much. I think. I mean, I really couldn't see around her. Finn's Adam's apple bobbed nervously. Only Cahira had that effect on him. What is it?"

  "Euthanasia drug. She picked up the knife and turned it in her hands. Idiot. The runes are etched but not charged. This is dead silver, not living silver."

  Cahira returned the blade to the nightstand, and turned to find a chair so that she could comfortably Read Kynyr.

  Finn leaped up, brought her one, and then retreated back to his corner.

  She removed the bandage on the blade wound, eased her fingers into it, and sang softly. A golden light sprang up around the wound. Cahira drew her fingers out a fraction at a time, continuing to sing. When she finished, the light faded and she wiped her fingers on a bit of cloth. He'll live."

  "You healed him?"

  Cahira shook her head and Finn could see how tired she looked. I mended him. He'll need rest ... a few weeks at least."

  Finn sucked in a breath. What she said about Tarrant..."

  "Don't tell anyone."

  "But if he's a Redhand"

  Cahira rose and went to Finn, placing her fingers on his lips. Hush. Don't tell anyone."

  "But why not?"

  "It's a long story. I don't have the energy to tell it. But I suppose you deserve to know, considering how you've stood by him."

  Finn nodded. Is that a promise?"

  Cahira smiled, weary and fond. Yes, Finn. It's a promise."

  * * * *

  Todd and his sons pulled three of the four chairs in the ante-chamber close to the bedroom door and settled into them.

  The bedroom door opened and Baroucha ran out. The door closed behind her. She stopped short in the middle, turned and stared at him. Todd..."

  He put his pipe down and got to his feet. Baroucha."

  She shrank away from him. Don't touch me."

  "Don't give me a reason."

  Baroucha spun and fled into the hallway.

  Trevor exchanged a glance with his brother. Is she the one that hurt Mom?"

  Todd nodded, resumed his place, and relit his pipe. Ayup."

  "What was she doing in there? asked Queran.

  Todd shrugged. We'll know soon enough."

  A grizzled old wolf stalked in and stared at them. Todd Sinclair! I heard you were dead."

  Todd took his pipe from his mouth and gestured at Claw with the stem. Chieftain. People get funny notions. He took another draw from his pipe. Mostly from rumor and gossip."

  Claw dragged the fourth chair close and sat down. Kissie!"

  The nibari appeared in the doorway. Yes, Master Claw?"

  "Whiskey and four glasses."

  Kissie left and the four myn looked at each other for a moment.

  Claw studied Trevor and Queran. Your boys, Todd?"

  The Battle-Clan armsmaster turned farmer gave a slow nod, pointing to each in turn. Trevor. Queran. I got two more back home. Branduff's my oldest. Then Trevor, Queran, and Jordy. Gotta daughter too. High tempered little bitch just like her mother. Lilybeth. Cahira's given me five strong cubs."

  "You married Cahira Maguire?"

  "Yup."

  "Kynyr... Claw paused, got his pipe out, and started to load it.

  Todd reached in his pouch and produced a packet that he tossed to Claw. Try that. It's Tovantè Red Leaf."

  Claw grinned and opened the packet, sniffing it. Good stuff. I haven't seen any in years."

  "It's getting harder to come by. I brought plenty. You can have that packet."

  "Thanks. Claw filled his pipe and took several draws, savoring the aromatic southern tobacco. Kynyr..."

  "My grandcub. Branduff's boy. Cahira's in with him now. What happened to him?"

  "Near as I can tell... Claw spoke slowly between puffs of his pipe. There was a riot at the Refugee Camp. We don't know what started it."

  "And?"

  "Someone shoved a blade in his back. Runed silver."

  Trevor snarled and hair sprouted along his arms in a cinnabar rush. Cravens! Couldn't take him from the front..."

  Todd gestured at his son and Trevor subsided.

  "He looks like my son."

  Todd looked thoughtful. Must rip the heart out of you ... looking at him. But he isn't Tarrant's. He's my grandson."

  "There's no chance?"

  "None. After the ambush that captured Tarrant, the bloody soul-eaters left me for dead. By the time I could travel again, Cahira had vanished. Took me well nigh on ten years to find her and my boy, Branduff. By then, the cub didn't want my name."

  "Oh. I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. We get along fine now.

  The door opened and Cahira emerged. Todd, you need to find us a place to stay for a few weeks and a wagon to move Kynyr."

  "You could stay here, said Claw.

  Cahira noticed the chieftain for the first time and stiffened. We'll not stay under your roof, Claw."

  Claw frowned and started to argue, only to swallow his words unsaid. He had too many crotchety bitches in his life, not to recognize the tone of Cahira's voice as brooking no argument. The lawgiver house isn't in use right now."

  Todd leaned forward. You don't have a lawgiver?"

  "We have one. Nikko Softpaws. He lives with his mother."

  "We'll take it. Now what about a wagon?"

  * * * *

  Once the guardsmyn had departed, Malthus rounded all of the young males up who had been present at the attack upon Kynyr. All fifteen of the lycan youths worked at the camp. Some of them he influenced, and others he owned through insinuations of power so subtle they did not realize he had touched them, and a few he held in his pockets for money and favors. Regardless of the methods, they all belonged to him.

  He surveyed his little kingdom harsh eyed and searching. Which of you put the blade in Kynyr?"

  No one answered.

  "I won't have you ruining things for the rest of us."

  Preece Malloy leaned against a tree with his arms loosely folded across his chest. Years of working in the sun had weathered his fair skin to a nut brown. Preece's drawstring pants slouched around his lanky hips and if they had been any looser would have slid to his cock. A pair of long fighting knives hung from a worn leather belt, the sheaths lashed to his thighs for an easy draw, and his pants legs bunched around them. While his sturdy bones could easily have carried more weight, Preece did not lack for muscle and the long curves of his biceps looked like hammered steel. A length of leather held his long, mustard brown hair in a tail at his neck. He regarded Malthus with dead, jaded eyes and an indolent smile. I always wanted to stick a guardsmon. So I did."

  "Don't do it again, Preece."

  All eyes turned to Preece, watching uneasily for his reaction.

  Preece shrugged. Whatever."

  Malthus gestured at the others. All of you go. Except Preece. He pointed toward his cottage. Come with me."

  Preece shrugged again and sauntered after Malthus.

  They did not speak until they reached the cottage and settled onto tree rounds beside a rough hewn table. Malthus paused and extended his necromantic senses in a low level scan to be certain they were alone.

  "Can that blade b
e identified?"

  Preece's lips parted and he ran his tongue over them. His mouth quirked into a lop-sided smile. I filed all the markings off."

  "Where did you get it?"

  A snort preceded Preece's answer. It was sold to me as runed silver. It isn't."

  The discernment in the answer surprised Malthus. How do you know it isn't?"

  "After I bought them, I tested them on him."

  "You killed him?"

  "That's what I said."

  Malthus began to understand why the rest of the wolves never crossed Preece, although they did so to each other frequently. Shalto is forming a little gang ... under my tutelage."

  "The Lycamornots. Sounds juvenile."

  "It isn't."

  "Shalto asked me. I said I'd think about it."

  "Now I'm asking you."

  "Will there be gold in it? I'm tired of breaking my back for a few bits of copper."

  "More than you can imagine."

  "I can imagine a lot."

  Malthus reached in his pouch and brought out two gold coins and three silvers. He tossed them to Preece who snapped them out of the air with a quick economy of motion that impressed Malthus.

  "Count me in, Malthus."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  TROYES

  A month had passed since Malthus first received permission to hunt on Clan lands. He took Shalto and Oswyl along on his first three hunts, gradually going farther and farther afield, matching landmarks up to the maps he carried of Red Wolf Valley in preparation for going alone. As soon as Malthus felt certain that the wolves were no longer watching him as closely, he packed his horse up, intending to go north and see what lay there for himself. The first of his units would meet him there.

  He had bettered himself faster than the other refugees because he had plenty of gold to spend and other things came easily into his hands to trade and bribe the lycans with for their assistance. And then there was Beth. She had begun to talk her lovers out of gold on behalf of the sanctuary and splitting it with him. She had also had to turn down several offers of marriage from young males thrilled to have a female under them that would be so cooperative in acting out their nastiest fantasies.

  That had worked out so well, that Malthus began considering the possibility of turning the Refugee Camp into a discreet brothel, one female at a time. Brothels were illegal on Clan lands; although the city wolves delighted in them. Conservative lycan logic held that slutswhether male or femaleand brothels caused friction among the younger wolves and provoked duels.