"Your grandson is a descendant of Dawnhand. Which is why he must be protected."
Claw nodded. I will accept whatever help you offer."
"Good. I want to ward your daughter also."
"That may be a problem. Her husband does not like outsiders."
"Her husband is an asshole."
Claw grinned. Then you've met him?"
"Yes."
"That's something else we agree on."
* * * *
Clan MacLachlan entered Hell's Widow riding three abreast with their baggage train in the middle and their banners flying. As they entered the lycan district, people filled the streets to stare, bitches leaned out of windows and waved scarves at them, and cubs gamboled along their line of march. A ragged cheer went up and gathered force until it seemed as if the very ground shook with it.
Fergus grinned and sat straighter in his saddle, basking in the hero's welcome the lycan community gave him.
When they reached the middle, they started breaking up into units and heading for prearranged meeting places.
Fergus drew rein in the yard of the Three Candles Inn, and experienced a twinge of melancholy: Jordi would not be coming from the stables to greet him.
Three ostlers that Fergus did not recognize came and took their horses. The baggage train began pulling in as he and Darcy dismounted. Three Candles had the largest yard and stables of the inns in the lycan district and Fergus wanted them in one place until he could secure the district. A gesture sent guardsmyn to the perimeters of the yard and the entrances to the inn. Only then did Fergus inform Lord Brodrig that he considered it safe to dismount. Anything might be lurking about, and Fergus gut instinct told him that they were being observed by more than lycans. The one thing he wished he had with him was a mage, but MacLachlan had not produced one in several generations.
Fergus led Darcy, Lord Brodrig, and Father Gileaus into the inn. The common room had only a few people in it, drinking and eating at some of the back tables.
Amos Raggat came from behind his bar and approached them. Fergus! Where's Jordi?"
"Dead. That's why we're here. The bastards shot him on my doorstep."
"Sweet gods. Amos made the sign of the bear and followed that with the wolfmoon.
Father Gileaus smiled at the innkeeper's evident piety.
Amos thumbed at the door behind the bar. Keg room's the best place to talk. I'm surprised the garrison let you in."
Fergus gave a silencing shake of his head, and all talk ceased until they entered the keg room.
Amos opened a cabinet and brought out a bottle and glasses. I assume that whisky is your drink of choice?"
Darcy's face brightened with a cheeky grin. It's mine and I know it's Fergus favorite. But I think the good Father would rather have something gentler."
"Mead, if you don't mind. Father Gileaus settled into a chair at the table and was soon joined by the rest of them.
Fergus got the introductions out of the way with brusque directness and put an end to pleasantries. The garrison struck a deal with us. The lycan district is ours and eventually the whole east side will be also."
Amos lips twitched and relief mingled with worry in his gaze. Did my letter arrive?"
"The one you sent to Maguire?"
"Yes, that one. I expected Red Wolf would be knocking on my door by now."
"My aide is delivering it. Gileaus sipped his mead. Jordi spoke only a few words before he died."
"So we don't know exactly what's going down here. Fergus charged into the conversation again. Just that they killed my brother over a letter. A letter you asked him to deliver."
"They killed my daughter. Amos stared into his glass of whiskey, his fingers drawing nervous circles on the wood. You remember Sainy, Fergus?"
He nodded. That much I knew. The sa'necari we put to the question was very forthcoming. He was steeped-in-death ... lasted a long time screaming. We whittled the flesh from his bones before he died."
"I cut his grapes off. Darcy unshouldered her saddlebags, took a jar from them, and placed it in front of Amos. Testicles and a penis floated in a salty gray-green brine.
Brodrig shuddered and looked away.
Father Gileaus turned pale and faintly greenish. If you don't mind..."
"Get that off the table. Fergus shoved the jar at her.
Darcy returned it to her saddlebags with a contemptuous look, deliberately missing the point. It's not like you've never seen one before."
Amos lowered his head. So you got one of them. He drained his glass and refilled it. I'm a traitor, Fergus. I broke after they killed Sainy. They were going to take another daughter each week until I gave them what they wanted."
Silence settled over the table until Fergus broke it. What did you do?"
"I gave them the names and addresses of every lycan leader in the community. They rounded them up."
"Bastard! Darcy overturned her chair, leaping at Amos with her knife out.
Amos shrieked as he crashed to the floor beneath her, his plump body quivering like a shaken bowl of jelly.
Father Gileaus grabbed Darcy's arm as the blade descended. She elbowed him in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him, but he still held on. No, Darcy. No."
The battle-bitch threw the priest onto his back, freeing her arm. Frantic to stop her from murdering Amos, Gileaus yanked her arm and kicked the squirming innkeeper in the shoulder, moving him out of the way of Darcy's strike. Tangled together, she struck again at Amos. Father Gileaus jerked her arm, squeezing between Darcy and the innkeeper. The blade came down with great force, but instead of plunging into Amos body, it thrust deep into the priest's shoulder.
Gileaus clenched his eyes shut with a grunt of shock and pain.
Rage faded from her eyes. Darcy stared at the blood spreading through his robes and released the knife, leaving it in Gileaus shoulder as she straightened on her knees. Father forgive me."
Fergus seized her arms from behind and jerked Darcy to her feet. Bloody hell, Darcy. Look what you've done."
Brodrig knelt beside Father Gileaus, his eyes huge and distressed.
Amos lurched to his feet and retreated to the far side of the room, putting his back against the kegs. Tears ran down his face and he made blubbering noises.
Darcy relaxed in Fergus grip, signaling surrender. He released her, up righted her chair, and pointed at it sternly. Darcy sat down, laced her fingers together, and stared at her hands.
"Bandages, Amos. Get your fat ass out there and fetch a healer. Then we'll deal with your sins. Fergus sat cross-legged on the floor to examine Father Gileaus wound. Be glad she keeps her blades sharp, Father. This is going to hurt, but it should come out easy."
Fergus extracted the knife from Father Gileaus shoulder and tossed it on the table. Then he poured whiskey on the wound.
Amos showed up a short time later with the unit's surgeon. Once the priest had been seen to, they sent the surgeon away and gathered at the table. The mood had gone still.
Fergus glanced at Gileaus, who now carried his arm in a sling to take the stress from his shoulder. Perhaps you should go lie down, Father?"
"No. No, I'm going to see this through. Killing Amos serves no purpose. Gileaus scanned their faces. I'm placing him under my protection."
Darcy grumbled under her breath.
Fergus kicked her shins and turned to the innkeeper. Are they still alive, Amos?"
"As far as I know. When they kill someone, they make certain we know about it ... leave the bodies in public places. Amos gazed at the table, refusing to lift his eyes, his shoulders drooped.
"Names, Amos. Names."
"He calls himself Lord Heironim Traxton. I've never met him. He sends Alexander Jondries to deal with me."
"Sa'necari?"
"Both of them. Fresh tears rolled down Amos cheeks. There's more. Sa'necari and human both."
"Where do they operate out of?"
"The Green Sheaf. It's a grain warehouse."
F
ergus turned to Darcy. Get our scouts together. Amos is going to show us where this place is."
"We going to hit it tonight? Darcy asked.
"Yeah. Can't give them time to kill the hostages or move them somewhere else."
CHAPTER FOUR
BRINGING HELL TO THE WIDOW
The Devil's Dance Inn was a quiet, innocuous establishment on the west end. It served as a waystation to the sa'necari and others passing through whose purposes and destinations would not bear close inspection. The owner, Dymier Bianco, kept a herd of nibari and a larder filled with people who would not be missed to satisfy the obscene appetites of his secretive clientele. The second floor contained meeting rooms and the third floor held the bedroom suites. Strangers who did not know the proper code words and phrases were denied access to the upper floors.
The best chamber on the second floor had been reserved for the uses of Heironim and his compatriots. Heironim preferred to have several places to retreat to and gather at; a tactical consideration that had been drilled into them all by the instructors that Sidera Tyrins provided during the years that she trained them.
Since the destruction of the Red Lantern section, all the prostitutes who could be found had been gathered up and moved into a rundown mansion that Heironim had chosen on the southwest side of town and was in the process of restoring. The whores had gotten skittish, and consequently, most of them now had spells in their brains and healing bruises from sa'necari fangs.
Sidera had finally sent them reinforcements, but they were scattered between the inn, the Green Sheaf, and the new brothel that Heironim had named the Scarlet Petticoat.
Jondries sat near the window at their table in a private meeting room on the second floor of the Devil's Dance Inn. The trestle table would seat twenty. Sofas and chairs lined the walls. He glanced at Timocratus sitting on a sofa with his fangs in the throat of a nibari, sucking noisily.
Heironim occupied the head of the table, fiddling with a wooden puzzle box and sipping blood wine.
Jondries frowned at him. How long are we going to stay here?"
"Until there's news."
"The garrison would be fools to let those MacLachlans into the city."
"You can't tell what they'll do. Timocratus wiped blood from his lips and sent his dinner tottering from the room. The captain is married to one."
"Tully Abernathy is from Red Wolf, not MacLachlan. A note of irritation entered Jondries voice. There's a difference. Believe me."
The door slammed open and a sa'necari named Vico came in. He slammed the door behind him even harder than he had opened it and staggered breathless to the table. MacLachlan is riding into the city."
Heironim put the puzzle box aside and shot a quick glance at Jondries.
"I don't like this. What's the garrison doing about it?"
"They parted ranks and let them in."
"Do any of your informers know your face, Alex? Heironim asked.
"Amos Raggat. I've been doing business with him personally."
"Kill him."
"But, Heironim..."
"Kill him. He knows your face."
"I think you're overreacting."
"Are you disobeying me?"
"Of course not. Jondries sighed and quirked a finger at Vico. Inform Amos that I want to see him at the Green Sheaf immediately. Once he's there, detain him until I arrive. I'll perform the execution myself."
Vico departed and Jondries turned to Heironim again as Timocratus joined them at the table. Does that satisfy you?"
"Not completely."
"What now?"
"I want the hostages moved."
Jondries rose from his chair. I'll see to it now."
"Amos knows about the Green Sheaf? Heironim abandoned his puzzle and followed Jondries into the corridor.
"Yes. That didn't seem like a problem. He's been very cooperative since I rited his daughter."
"You're taking too many chances, Alex."
"And you're not taking enough, Heironim. We have over one hundred myn now. Not counting the twenty-seven sa'necari."
Heironim fell silent until they had left the inn. They emerged into the early evening shadows and started walking toward the warehouse district. How do you have them deployed?"
Jondries scowled at him. Do you even bother to read my reports?"
"Ellie..."
"Oh, for Bellocar's sake, how long are you going to sulk and moan over a dead whore? Jondries stretched his long neck and dug his fingers into the base of it. I've tried to be patient, Heironim. It's getting tiresome. How long are you going to keep leaving everything to me? I can't do it all. Ellie's becoming an obsession. When are you going to let it go?"
"When Maguire is dead."
Jondries could think of nothing to say to that.
The warehouse district lay between the lycan ghetto and the Blood District. They traveled through the edges of the burned out section in the middle of the Blood District just to get off the main streets and away from the possibilities of running into Sharani patrols. The blackened ruin of the Crimson Lady greeted them on Corbie Way and Heironim stopped to stare up at it.
Jondries shook his head, watching Heironim scratch the blackened scars on his arms. Normally blood healed all in sa'necari ... yet no matter how much blood Heironim drank, the scars from Silkie's venom refused to vanish.
"It was a good place, Alex. I miss it."
Jondries repressed a groan at Heironim's sentimentality. Can we keep walking? Amos is probably waiting for me."
Heironim nodded.
A block from the Green Sheaf, Jondries touched Heironim's arm to halt him. Lycans."
Heironim reached for his sword and started to run forward.
"No, it's too late. Jondries held him back. Look."
He pointed to bodies hanging from the windows. They've left us a warning."
"The hostages?"
"I issued orders this morning ... they were to be killed if the lycans came for them."
"Ellie..."
"Forget it. Let's get out of here. Rally our forces and hope those wolves don't know where to find us."
* * * *
The common room of the Three Candles Inn had been changed about. Most of the tables had been moved to the sides and stacked to the ceiling. A trestle table long enough to seat forty had been assembled in the center. Fergus sat at the head with Darcy to his left, Brodrig to his right and Amos on the far side of the young lord.
"Get your bitches together, Darcy. Fergus examined the penciled map of the warehouse grounds. We want to do this quick and quiet."
"What am I going to do? Brodrig gazed at the map.
"You're going to stay here and finish getting the barricades in place."
"But ... Da wants me to fight."
Fergus glared at him. I intend to take your father back a living son, not a dead one."
Lord Brodrig's lower lip jutted out as if he intended to argue, met Fergus eyes, and then dropped his. As you wish."
"Good lad. Fergus had not wanted to bring Brodrig, an untried boy, along, but Duncan had set it as a condition for giving Fergus command of their small army.
Amos shuddered periodically in his chair, watching them with a pensive air. A spiked club lay on the table in front of him. No armor could be found to fit him, not even boiled leather, and if they wished to strike in time to have the slightest hope of rescuing the hostages, there was no time to make him any. Father Gileaus...."
Fergus scowled. Atonement, Amos. Atonement. If any of those hostages die, it's on your soul."
"Yes."
Word must have gone out fast, because the streets were clear when the MacLachlan units moved to attack. Nonetheless, Fergus insisted that they take to the alleys as soon as they passed the barricades keeping the humans out of the lycan district. The warehouse district bordered theirs and they only had to travel six blocks to reach the Green Sheaf.
They used the alleys to sneak as close as they could in force and surrounded the warehous
e without being seen.
At a nod from Fergus, Darcy's unit of battle-bitches, in full hybrid form to take advantage of their increased strength and speed, killed the sentries, the grooms in the barn and stableboys. No human was spared. They were all considered guilty by association, and Darcy's unit carried out their sentences on the spot.
They muffled the horses and stole the lot of them.
At a nod from Fergus, his youngest brother Artair took his unit to the roof using grappling hooks. None of them went in human formexcept for Amos.
Hiding his club behind his back, Amos sidled up to the front door while Fergus and his fellows crouched low to either side of it.
Amos knocked and a servant answered. I must talk to Master Jondries. It's urgent. Clan MacLachlan is taking over the district."
The door opened wide to let Amos insidehis girth nearly filled the doorwayand Fergus lunged to his feet with a small axe in each hand. He shouldered the innkeeper out of his way, and split the servant's head open between the eyes. The sound of splintering glass filled the night as other units broke windows and climbed through, hitting the warehouse from all sides.
Amos tried to back up and retreat, becoming an obstacle to the oncoming lycans. A MacLachlan soldier seized him by the shoulders, propelling Amos into the room with a hard shove. They broke into two streams around Amos as he staggered, stumbled, and barely managed to keep his tottering feet beneath him.
The clerk at the desk, guarding access to the rear, rose and turned to flee.
Fergus chopped the clerk's neck, snapping the bone, and spun about. Which way, Amos?"
"Basement, this way. Amos trundled into the lead, holding his spiked club ready, and led them down a hallway to a door at the end. Through there to a stairway. Door's warded. I don't know how they get it open."
The only human in their band, a Sharani priest, spoke a prayer and then brushed the door with a sprig of mistletoe. The door opened.
Amos blinked. They've a temple to Bellocar down there and cells where they keep their captives."
Fergus shoved the fat innkeeper forward. Lead us."
Amos went down the stairs first, shaking and biting on his lower lip in a determined fashion, having changed into his hybrid form and looking more like a small, rotund wooly bear than a wolf.
Frank-KWar Page 5
