The young guardsmon climbed up to the smooth rock she sat on and settled beside her. I don't trust him."
"Who? Malthus? Searlait cast another twig from her small pile into the water. I think he's dashing."
"Yeah, Malthus. He's proposed marriage to Merissa."
"You were eavesdropping?"
Kynyr blushed at her tone. It's part of my job. Keep the sweet little bitches out of trouble. That includes you. He winked at her.
"Foo. I'm not a sweet little bitch; I'm a crotchety old crone. Searlait looked away from Kynyr, her eyes going distant as she turned them back upon the waters. I was lovely once. All the finest young dogs paid court to me. Age changes everything."
"You're still lovely."
"And you're still sweet. Searlait patted his cheek. But I'm too old for blandishments. I know what I look like now. She looked away and then turned toward him again. So you don't like Malthus?"
"That's right."
"You can't dictate love, Kynyr. When it happens, it happens. I haven't seen Merissa so in love since Isranon abandoned her. Like it or not; he's good for her."
"I think she's making a mistake."
"Is she? Searlait looked at him with gentle patience. Are you in love with her, Kynyr?"
"No. He shook his head. She's like a sister to me. I'd be a lot happier if she picked someone like Finn or Ramsey. Then I'd know they'd take good care of her."
"Kynyr..."
"Searlait, I've got six sisters. Some younger; some older than me. And I grew up with Finn's eight right next door. We call them the Dreaded Horde. Merissa reminds me of Kathleen, my sister who's two years older than I am. She was seeing this dog from Three Stones who was working at the dry goods in Longbranch for the summer. I was just twelve and she was fourteen. One time he made her cry. I took a stick and beat the holy crap Kynyr stopped short, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. I beat the ... well you get the idea."
"Kynyr, as dearly as we all love you, you're not family. Leave Merissa and Malthus alone."
Kynyr scratched the back of his head in an offhand manner, feeling a bit stung. They were his family and he could not tell them so. I'll leave Malthus alone where it concerns Merissa. But if he steps out of line with me ... then it's on his head."
* * * *
Malthus possessed the largest home in the camp, having added a study and a bedroom for his nieces onto it. Ros and Lyrri walked sedately beside him: they had worn themselves out playing with Darmyk and his cat all day. Once they entered the deeply forested area in the waning light, Malthus extended his necromantic senses in a low level scan of the area. He still feared that Sergei would return for Ros. His hand settled on the hilt of a long knife at his hip as he sensed two presences near his home.
"Stay behind me, he whispered to the girls.
They dropped back without a word.
Malthus found Shalto and Oswyl sitting outside waiting for him. He touched Ros on her shoulder, Take your sister inside, and stay there until I say you can come out."
"Yes, Uncle Malthus. Ros took Lyrri by the hand and they went inside.
Malthus waited until the door had closed before turning to the two young lycans. What's brought you here?"
"We wanted to ask you a few questions, Shalto said.
Malthus tensed, wondering if they had seen him doing something better left unknown. So far they had proved too good a tool to waste by killing them. Certainly. Would you like a drink?"
Oswyl grinned and nodded.
"Yeah, that'd be nice, said Shalto.
Malthus fetched tankards of mead. He hesitated a moment and sat them on the table before going back outside. The tankards were a deliberately mismatched set, one a coppery color with a hunting scene in bas relief, the second was a goldish tone with a leaping stag, and the third bore a dragon wrapped around a tree. He sketched a rune with his fingertip on the first two tankards. The runes glowed for a moment, and then vanished. Malthus carried the tankards out and handed them around.
The two young myn looked delighted, as always, to drink with him. Malthus watched them drink deeply and smiled with his head lowered. Now tell me all about it, good fellows."
"All the deaths are making folks nervous about coming around the camp, said Shalto.
"Yeah, said Oswyl. We're having trouble getting more help."
"Tell me everything that's troubling you. I'm listening, said Malthus in a silken tone designed to set his suggestions into their psyches as deeply as possible.
Shalto scratched at his chin and took another long pull from his tankard. People are saying that either someone in the camp is doing it, or the camp is cursed."
"Which do you think? Malthus asked.
"Bad luck and coincidence, Shalto replied and Oswyl nodded agreement.
Malthus noticed that they had gone through the contents quickly. Would you like me to get you another?"
Both of the young myn nodded eagerly. Malthus repeated his steps, refilling and renewing the spell on the tankards. He returned to them and sat down.
"I agree with you both. Just an unfortunate coincidence. He handed the tankards around. Is there more?"
Oswyl made a silly face at Shalto and nudged him.
"Females. None of us have been getting any since Bethyou knowand since you know so much about females, we thought you could..."
"Shalto, my friend, said Malthus. I have the perfect solution to your troubles."
Oswyl's expression grew sillier, filling with a drunken delight.
"I knew you would, Shalto said. You always do."
Malthus licked his lips, savoring the way his spell added with the liquor made them more open and suggestible by the moment. Have you considered the sa'necari?"
"Sa'necari? Shalto looked surprised.
"Yes. Sa'necari are all sluts. Every last one of them. It's their nature."
"Won't they try to bite us?"
"No, Shalto. Not if you don't want them to."
"Have you ever done it with one? Shalto asked.
Malthus chuckled. I've played nibble games. I've tried everything. I'm a very experienced mon."
"Wow, maybe I'll try that, Shalto said.
Malthus gave a tiny glance to the side. None of the women in the camp can really say no. They have no rights. They are here by your forbearance."
"Clodagh won't like us getting sluttish with the women here, Oswyl said.
Malthus laughed long and loud. She's no one to speak. She's as big a slut as Beth was."
Their eyes saucered and they stared at Malthus.
Malthus wagged a finger at them. Just be more discreet about it this time. The chieftain and elders will shut the camp down, if they think it's turning into a whorehouse."
"Yeah, they will, Shalto said.
"Can we tell our friends? Like Torquil? asked Oswyl.
"Those that you can trust to keep their mouths shut."
"We will, Shalto said. You think it's a good time to roust out a couple of those whores?"
Malthus smile broadened with a secret turn at the corners. Clodagh moved into Beth's place today. Why don't one of you tell her I sent you and the other do the same with Kandaishee?"
"Howls, yes! Shalto slapped Oswyl on the back.
"Is there anything else?"
"Nah, said Shalto. We gotta go get some."
Malthus watched them race through the trees while he sipped his mead. How very amusing. They'll believe anything I tell them now ... as if they didn't to begin with. Shalto, Oswyl, you don't know it yet, but I own you both."
* * * *
Nikko lay on the bed at Navaryn's, barely breathing, his skin almost translucently pale. The day had turned hot, and Navaryn had turned the sheet back to his hips to let the afternoon breezes cool his skin, which was bare except for his bandages. She leaned close, touching the back of her hand to his forehead to check for fever. Navaryn stroked his cheek, her head titled to the side, and concern twisting the corners of her lips when Nikko failed to respond with so m
uch as a fluttering of his eyelids.
"I'm afraid we're going to lose him, Navaryn said.
"Has he said anything else? Lokynen asked, coming to stand beside the bed where Nikko lay in fevered slumber. Anything that would help us identify his attackers?"
"He's said nothing. Navaryn flicked back her silvery hair. The lycan daughter of Tala, Mistress of Wolves, and God of the Moon and Hunt, Navaryn was a legend to the lycans who did not suspect she still lived. I recognized the poison. There's an assassin in one of the villages. No one knows what he looks like. Only his handiwork. This mon is a lawgiver. Rather young for one, but his runes cannot be handled by anyone who serves the darkness."
"Can you send someone out to check around and see who's missing a lawgiver?"
"Ask Pandeena. She can do that for you. I don't dare leave this poor wolf alone for more than a moment. I keep having to call him back when he starts to slide into the final darkness. I've drawn a lot of the poison out of him. But there's still more. It takes time."
"You'll send me word if he speaks? Lokynen asked.
She nodded. Or if he dies, which is more likely."
"Or if he dies. We need one of those lifemages out of Rowanhart."
Navaryn shook her head and the silvery strands slid around her face. They would not be able to do much more than I am. None of them is a master mage."
"A master exists. Lord Dawnreturning."
Navaryn's head came up and she looked at Lokynen with keen interest. Can you get him here?"
Lokynen's lips squeezed together and he stared at his big hands. I don't exactly know where he is. Last I heard, he was just south of the Ruins of Aubrudrin."
"Then your information does me no good."
Hathura grinned at Lokynen's discomfort. You should get outside the valley more often, Navaryn."
"Well, I don't dare now. Not with this young mon depending on me and the Butchering Serpent in the valley."
"There's a catch to it anyway, Lokynen said. Dawnreturning is sa'necari."
Navaryn cast him an indignant glance, hot with skepticism. Impossible."
Lokynen shook his head. He's one of the last two Dark Brothers of the Light. Furthermore, he's a freak. A polymancer. A descendant of Dawnhand."
"Well, that explains it. Dawnhand was a good mon, said Navaryn. I wept when word reached me of his death. Without him I could never have saved my people when the sa'necari cult first began. The necromancers wanted to turn us into genetically altered cattle, like their nibari."
A sly look came over Lokynen's face. The Trickster gathered us here to protect the last descendant of Dawnhand. Yet, I hear rumors that Lord Dawnreturning is of that lineage. The descendant in the valley is a small child."
"His cub? Navaryn guessed.
"Must be."
"Then it has come full circle. We failed to rescue Dawnhand's children from the grasp of the evil ones. We shall not fail this time."
* * * *
Malthus woke before dawn, rolled over, and spooned around Clodagh, twisting her nipple to wake her. She squeaked, and shifted onto her back, wearing a whey-faced, get-it-done-with expression. Bruises covered her breasts, many of them from his feedings, and some from simple, sa'necari maliciousness.
"You don't look well, Malthus said.
"I always look this way in the mornings, Clodagh spit back at him. It's your fault."
Malthus chuckled as he mounted her. Shut up, Clodagh."
Clodagh turned her face away.
"Look at me!"
A stab of pain tore through her head, and she yelped. Clodagh looked him.
"Good."
He sawed at her for a long time before he came. Like so many sa'necari who were steeped in the rites, Malthus had problems reaching climax, unless murder was involved. He fed with his flaccid cock still sheathed inside her. Then he pulled out and kicked her off the bed.
"Go home before someone sees you."
Clodagh pulled her robe around her, sashed it, and fled.
Malthus drew his pants on, snagged a bottle of blood from the chest, and padded out into the living room. He heard the girls playing in their bedroom. Malthus poked his head in and a fond smile blossomed on his face. They sat in the middle of the floor in their nightgowns, moving carved wooden figures around. Come out and I'll get you some breakfast started."
He poured Ros a glass of blood and gave Lyrri plum nectar. When you're finished with your breakfast, we'll go pick wildflowers."
"You're going to see Merissa? asked Lyrri.
Getting a fire going in the hearth, Malthus sliced cheese, placed it on bread, and slid the pan with it onto brick and metal shelf above the fire to melt the cheese.
"Is she going to be our new aunt? asked Ros.
Malthus grinned, leaned in, and put his finger to his lips. Shussssh. Yes. The flowers are for her."
Ros ran her tongue as far around her mouth as she could reach, capturing even the smallest bits of blood. I like her."
Wrapping a cloth around the handle, he brought the pan to the table and sat it in the middle. Malthus put plates around and served the food up.
"And Darmyk? How do you feel about Darmyk?"
A smoldering heat entered Ros eyes, and her fangs came down. He wouldn't last long, Uncle Malthus. I want to taste him. I ache for him."
Malthus realized that he would not be able to contain Ros appetites much longer. Children and youths experienced their need for blood with greater intensity than an adult, just as at puberty the desire for sex burned hottest. Soon, Ros."
* * * *
Clodagh started home, and changed her mind. She turned into the trees, slipping between the bushes and the undergrowth, careful to leave no trail. Every time Malthus touched her, she felt soiled. She dropped her robe and sat down on the stream bank with her legs dangling in the water. The fragrance of the thick stand of sweet pepperbush delighted her nostrils, and she inhaled it gratefully. A loon called, shivering the air with its high eerie notes. The sound of splashing came from two trees over and Clodagh leaned out to see who or what was there.
Kandaishee paddled around, came up to the bank, and settled on it. The slight swelling of the sa'necari's belly drew Clodagh's eyes, and she spoke before she could stop herself.
"You're pregnant!"
Kandaishee startled, seized a stick, and looked around. She calmed when she saw Clodagh, waded over, and sat beside her. Her light amaranthine eyestheir pale color reflecting how few rites she had committedheld a haunted mirror to Clodagh's own. You have that look. Are you his also?"
"Yes. Is the child his ?"
Kandaishee placed her hand across her belly, lowering her head with a faint nod that spoke eloquently of both her shame and sense of helplessness. He got me the first week he arrived."
"I think mine is also. If the coercions were not in so deep ... I'd take tansy and lose it."
Kandaishee sighed. I tried. But the coercions are in too deep."
Clodagh kicked her feet in the water, watching the ripples as she formed the questions she did not wish to face, yet felt forced to ask. Are there other women like us?"
"Do you mean pregnant or under his sway?"
"Both, I guess."
Tension threaded Kandaishee's voice. All of the women living at the camp are under his sway. He's taken us all."
Clodagh sucked in a breath, her hand going to her mouth. Even the humans?"
" All of us. There are five other pregnancies besides ours."
"Which ones?"
"The other four sa'necari, and one human."
"Are they all his?"
Kandaishee snorted. Certainly not the human's child. That one must be a lycan's bastard. The Butchering Serpent wouldn't stick his bone, her mouth twisted in distaste, in a human unless she was on his altar. He likes lycan flesh best."
"Could you Read us?"
"Not wearing these things. Kandaishee waved her spellcorded wrists at Clodagh.
Clodagh broke the white flowered end off a stalk
of sweet pepperbush and stroked the water with it. If I took them off, would you let me put them back on?"
"I would have no choice. I can't leave with what he's done to my brain."
"Isis this what Waejonan did to Dawnhand's wife?"
Kandaishee touched Clodagh's arm, and the lycan flinched. Look at me when you speak, Clodagh. Please. I'm not the enemy."
Clodagh raised her head, still clutching the stalk, playing with it nervously. I didn't think you were. It's a shame that it makes me look away."
"Then we share it. I recognized him and failed to speak in time. As to Melisandra Dawnhand, yes. Waejonan did to her, what Malthus has done to us. Only she found the strength to throw herself from a balcony after he filled her belly."
"I wish I had that kind of strength..."
Kandaishee shook her head. None of us do. The arts have been perfected since Waejonan's day, and Malthus is a master. We cannot do anything he would not wish us to."
They dressed and Clodagh led Kandaishee back to the camp by a path that only she knew. Reaching the longhouse that had been Beth's, Clodagh went in first. Entering this house always made Clodagh shiver for several breaths until she grew accustomed to it. She had done everything possible to get Beth's scent out of it: while Malthus had never said as much, they all knew Beth had been rited. A small brick oven covered the fire pit, and carpets topped a layer of woven reed matting on the floors. Malthus had not allowed her to bring much from her old house when he moved her in here. She used her tinderbox to get the fire going in the oven and put a kettle on for tea.
"Will you fetch them, Kandaishee?"
Kandaishee gave a nod and left.
Clodagh removed her clothing and draped it over a chair. She put her precious grandbitch's teapot in the middle of the table surrounded by cups, added a sugar bowl as a special treatsugar being expensiveand answered the first knock at the door.
Ystina and Laleyna, two sa'necari stood looking at her uncomfortably.
"Please, come in."
Ystina ran her eye over Clodagh's nudity. Are we doing this lycan-style?"
Frank-SQuest Page 24
