Frank-EReturn

by The Exile's Return [lit]

  "Shall we take this conversation upstairs in your best room? Just the three of us?"

  Dymier led them upstairs to a small lush room with thick carpets and velvet drapes. The only furniture was a square mahogany table with four over stuffed chairs. A nibari appeared with glasses, blood wine, and a bottle of whiskey.

  "Have you been in touch with my mother? Malthus poured for them.

  "She's routing her shipments to you here."

  "Very good. Has anything arrived for me?"

  "A few things."

  "Now, tell me what happened to my myn?"

  Dymier described the attack. Kynyr Maguire had led a mixed group of Red Wolf soldiers and Sharani veterans in an attack on the brothel that served as a front for Heironim's units. Fergus MacFie had led his MacLachlan troops through from the other side. None of Malthus forces got out alive.

  Malthus comforted himself that, at least, MacLachlan had not found the waystation, but the loss of his friends and units here hurt him and that led in turn to a surge of anger. I hope you're hurting, Kynyr. I want you to suffer the pains of hell before you die. I want to see you writhing on the floor, spilling your guts on the carpets.

  "Show me my room and have my mother's shipment brought to me there."

  Malthus always stayed in one of the best suites at the inn, with a generous parlor and a large bedroom.

  Three crates sat beside the square table in the middle of the room. Elegant sofas with brocaded cushions lined two walls. Malthus gestured for Preece to join him at the table. Food and drink soon arrived.

  Malthus lifted one crate to the table and pried it open. The wooden box contained six bottles of expensive whiskey. He set them all on the table, turning them one by one in his hand as he sketched a rune on the bottles. It flared black, sank into the bottle, and vanished to sit there undetectable.

  Preece tilted his head, considering what he saw. What are you doing?"

  A sneer drew Malthus lips into a thin line. This is why Claw has heart trouble."

  "Poison?"

  Malthus shook his head. Magic. The liquor is safe to drink ... unless, of course, you're Claw. It's much more discreet than poison. It affects only Claw. Malthus chuckled. And it goes straight to the heart of the matter. His heart."

  "What about Maguire?"

  "Don't get too inquisitive, Preece."

  "But what about him? Killing Claw will put him on the throne. Preece snarled. His grandfather killed mine. I deserve to know what your plans are for him."

  Malthus shrugged. Let's just say he's already dying and doesn't know it yet."

  "Poison?"

  "Drop it, Preece."

  * * * *

  Cooley trailed the Scott cubs into the alley behind the Difficult Horse. They had their gathering sacks with them. Most of the shops and houses had covered areas where they kept their trash. Rory went through the crates of discards, coming up with jars, jugs, bottles and other things that could be sold.

  All of the local cubs had begun to talk about the fact that Cooley now wore his blades everywhere as if he were a grown dog.

  Cooley leaned against the side of a building, losing himself in a daydream of riding Larkspur across the finish line in a big race. The back door to the tavern opened, but he did not bother looking to see who had come out.

  His head snapped up when he heard Rory yell and then Hamish screamed. Cooley came around as quiet as a cat to see what was happening. Rheu Lawson had lifted Rory off the ground by the throat and had his foot in the middle of Hamish's back, pinning the eight-year-old to the ground.

  Cooley's lower lip slid from beneath his upper as he stalked toward Rheu, remembering his father telling him if you can't beat them, write your name on their forehead.'

  Rheu stood head and shoulders taller than Cooley and wore a pair of fighting blades at his hips.

  Cooley knew that Todd did not want him fighting, so he stepped up to Rheu determined to try and settle it without blows. Let them go."

  "You gonna make me, mouse?"

  "Yes."

  Cooley saw that Rory's face had started to turn red and that alarmed him. He reached up and pried one of Rheu's fingers back.

  Rheu yelled and let go of Rory who dropped to the ground, gasping for air. Cooley kicked Rheu in the shins, which caused him to release the pressure on Hamish and the cub scrambled away, to crouch beside his brother.

  A sharp, searing pain erupted in Cooley's side. He looked down as Rheu jerked the blade out of him. Rheu backed up laughing. You ain't the first dog I've stuck."

  Rory's eyes went huge and he shoved Hamish. Get Todd."

  Hamish fled.

  Rheu half-turned, shifting his hold on his blades for a throw at Hamish's retreating back.

  Rory tried to scream a warning, but it came out as a fit of coughing. All he could do was point frantically at Rheu.

  Cooley knew that he had only an instant to act before Hamish ended with a knife in his back. Fighting the pain, Cooley snatched his blades out, shifted them in his hands, and threw as Cullen had taught him. The knives hit Rheu square in the chest. Rheu's eyes bulged and his knees gave. He fell against the crates of rubbish that Rory had been digging through when Rheu surprised him.

  Hamish darted around the corner and into the street.

  Breathing hard, as reaction to his wound overrode the fleeting rush of adrenaline; Cooley swayed and sank to his knees. He clutched his side, digging his fingers in around the wound.

  Rory knelt beside Cooley. You killed him."

  "I'm as good as my Dad. Cooley settled in the dirt as consciousness fled.

  Rory cradled Cooley, sobbing. His best friend's head lolled in the crook of Rory's arm and chest, his lips parted and barely breathing. He feared asking for help in the tavern, not knowing how the adults would react to the death of Rheu Lawson.

  To Rory's vast relief, Todd and Trevor arrived promptly.

  Rory poured out the story of what had happened after Hamish made a run for it, his voice rasping and struggling from having been choked.

  At a nod from Todd, Trevor entered the tavern through the back door, and returned with Erskine Faraday and Vayle Stewart, two of Claw's guardsmyn.

  Todd took Cooley from Rory's arms, and clasped the diminutive cub to his broad chest, heedless of the blood leaking onto his clothing. Cooley's hurt bad. I'm going to take him home. Todd scanned their faces. Can one of you fetch Toniqua?"

  Erskine turned to his companion. Vayle."

  "On my way."

  Erskine turned Rheu's blades over in his hands. They're poisoned. Rheu Lawson was looking to kill someone."

  Trevor had an ice and steel look in his eyes that reminded Erskine of Kynyr. He may have. Cooley."

  * * * *

  Kynyr came in shouting for Todd, and his grandfather's answering voice led him to the kitchen. Todd sat at the table with a bottle of whiskey, drinking. Cooley?"

  "Toniqua's still working on him. Todd stared into his glass and then drank it down in a single swallow and poured another. Kynyr, when Cooley came home wearing those blades I almost took them away from him. Now, I'm glad I didn't."

  "I told you that you were wrong about Cooley. He'd never kill someone for just taunting him. Kynyr searched his grandfather's face for signs of agreement as he settled into a chair. A nagging weariness clung to Kynyr that not even the rush of adrenaline on hearing of Cooley's wounding could completely shake off.

  "If he makes it, I'll train him right. Just like I did you."

  Kynyr glanced at the blades laying on the table. There's Devil's Silver on those. They're not Cooley's?"

  "Rheu Lawson's. Todd took another swallow from his glass. Rheu had Hamish pinned beneath his foot and was choking Rory so hard he left bruises on Rory's neck. If Cooley hadn't intervened, Rheu would have killed Rory. Pandeena says Rheu was gilled up on White Fire."

  Toniqua came in, drying her hands on a towel. I've done all that I can."

  Kynyr turned Rheu's blades over in his hands, examining
them. These look like the blades that were used on Padruig Caimbeul."

  "Ayup. Todd's lips tightened. And if Rheu was involved, then so was Preece."

  "If Cooley hadn't been armed, they'd all be dead, said Toniqua. Rheu Lawson would have killed them."

  "They need to train. Kynyr rubbed his left temple, feeling the beginnings of a dull headache.

  "Ayup. Though Cooley's pretty good already."

  "Cullen must have taught him. Kynyr rose from his chair. I'm going to pay Preece a visit when he gets back from Hell's Widow."

  "Don't go alone. Take Trevor."

  Kynyr met Todd's eyes with a refusal on his lips, and then acquiesced. I will."

  * * * *

  Todd heard weeping as he passed Rory's door, so he went in to check on the cub. The room had changed a lot. It used to be Kady's. Now it had shelves of carved animals and toys. Rory had had very little when he moved in with the Sinclairs as Cahira's apprentice. His widowed mother worked as a laundress to support her two children. The toys were the first that Rory had ever owned and he was not certain what to do with them.

  Todd lit the lamp to have a better look at him. Rory's bruised neck had swollen, and his voice was harsh and raspy. Toniqua had left a box of menthol lozenges by Rory's bed.

  "Is Cooley gonna die?"

  "Maybe."

  "It's all my fault. I wasn't paying attention. If I'd been paying attention, Rheu wouldn't've caught me."

  "It wasn't your fault. If it hadn't been you, it would have been someone else. Todd sat on the edge of the bed and tousled Rory's hair. Rheu Lawson came into town all gilled up on White Fire and looking for trouble."

  "That's bad stuff. Rory rubbed his eyes.

  Todd shrugged. It can be. When it's cut with the proper substances it becomes Amphereon. A stimulant given for heart problems, blockages of certain types, a bandage solution for overdoses."

  Rory settled in for one of Todd's rare lectures and eventually found himself smiling.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  VISITING

  Kady sat beside Cooley's bed. She had had a wonderful time in Creeya, despite intermittent unpleasantness from her sister; and coming home to this had left her feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of her. They were all taking turns sitting with Cooley, who had been moved to the house where there were more people to look after himall of them except Larena who was sulking.

  Sooner or later, if she kept provoking her like this, Kady intended to light into Larena and remind her that she was supposed to be grateful.

  "Drink ... uh. Cooley's voice shattered Kady's reverie, croaking and harsh. Drink uh water."

  Kady filled a glass with water from a pitcher, lifted him up, and held it to his lips. Are you hurting?"

  "Yes. His eyes had a glassy solemnity in their depths.

  Kady dosed him with poppy milk and settled him again under the blankets.

  "Am I ... gonna die?"

  Kady ruffled Cooley's hair. Of course, not. Don't be silly."

  "Tell me a story?"

  Kady told stories until the drugs sent Cooley to sleep and then she straightened his blankets and kissed his forehead.

  "How is he? Kynyr slipped into the room.

  Kady put a finger to her lips and motioned him into the hall, closing the door behind them. Conscious finally. I gave him some poppy milk for pain and it put him to sleep. I think he's out of danger now."

  Kynyr put his arm around Kady and she leaned against him as they walked. Trevor and I ... We're going into town in a little while on business."

  "You're going after Preece, aren't you?"

  "It's got to be done, Kady. We still don't have a lawgiver. No one wants the job after what happened to Nikko and Caimbeul."

  "It's not your job to clean up the town, Kynyr."

  "Someone has to do it."

  "So instead of a wolf for a husband, I got a sheepdog?"

  Kynyr chuckled. Not in bed."

  Kady punched him.

  They walked out onto the veranda and settled together on the sofa.

  Larena appeared with a tray of pastries and two glasses of wine, one white and one red. I know that Kady likes white."

  Kynyr accepted the wine and sat sipping it.

  * * * *

  Preece could not remember the last time that he had wept. He might have been six or seven years old when a tear had last run down his face. Now he paced his longhouse, alternately weeping and raging. He had dug Rheu's grave himself and buried him alone. No one had offered to help. There had been no grave gifts for Rheu. There had been no service for the deadPandeena had refused to so much as offer a prayer for him.

  They were all fussing over that undersized freak that killed Rheu.

  Malthus claimed to be his friend, and yet he had not bothered to help him bury Rheu before leaving on another errand. Preece had no idea where Malthus had gone. He felt betrayed by everyone.

  Finally he stormed out of the house and headed for town. Maybe he would get drunk at the Difficult Horse. Maybe he would break something. Maybe he would break someone.

  Myn moved out of his way as he went by. No one spoke. He reached Cheshire Road, walking rapidly, his head spinning.

  "Hello, Preece."

  Preece halted, his head snapped up to spot who had called his name. He saw no one on the empty road until Kynyr Maguire stepped out from between two pine trees. Then Preece saw Trevor Sinclair standing a few paces off leaning against an oak.

  "What do you want, Maguire? Preece tensed. He had always meant to take Kynyr out from the back. Maguire was a master and no one in their right mind fought fair against someone like him. Preece's confidence wavered, and steadied with the decision that he would not go down without a fight.

  "Your life. The chill tone of Kynyr's voice carried more threat than anger would have.

  Preece drew and lunged at Kynyr slashing with both blades. Preece Malloy was considered good with his blades and he was considered fast. However, he was also self-taught and had learned on the street. Kynyr had been trained by a master from childhood. The difference between them showed instantly.

  Hot rage gets you killed; cold rage gets them killed . The teachings of Todd echoed through Kynyr's mind.

  Kynyr glided to the side, pulled his knives, and feinted at Preece's face. As Preece shifted to avoid the blades, Kynyr snapped a kick into his ribs. The impact sent Preece staggering. He recovered his balance, and spun about. A backhand slash from Kynyr opened Preece's arm from shoulder to elbow.

  Kynyr glided away with a thin smile of satisfaction. First blood."

  "Son of a slut! Preece shrieked, and rushed Kynyr, striking wildly.

  Kynyr realized, with a flash of insight, that Preece had probably never been cut before. He sidestepped just far enough to avoid Preece's slashes, and as the blades passed him, darted forward to plunge his knife into Preece's side with a savage twist.

  Shock and disbelief flashed across Preece's face. One knife dropped from his hands. He made a tottering retreat, clutching his wound, blood leaking between his fingers. Arsehole."

  Kynyr flipped his left blade into the sheath and stalked after him. The Lycamornot made another swipe at Kynyr, weak and ineffective. Kynyr grabbed Preece's hand, forced the blade from his fingers, and twisted his arm around, forcing him over. How do you want it, Preece? Heart, belly, or kidneys?"

  "Gods, don't, Preece begged, his eyes filling with fear. Nooo. Please..."

  Expressionless as stone, Kynyr shoved his knife up under Preece's breastbone. Preece shuddered. Kynyr stabbed him again for good measure, released his arm, and stood back.

  A glassy look came into Preece's eyes as he collapsed in the dirt. Kynyr watched him die, and then pinned a note to his dead chest: If Truth Diesalways faithful.

  Kynyr took two steps and swayed. Pain and weakness rushed through all the muscles of his body. Trevor caught Kynyr's arm when it looked like he was going to topple over. Are you hurt?"

  Kynyr shook his head. Just dizzy ..
. I'll be okay."

  "You should have Mary take a look at you."

  "I'm alright. Let's mount up and get out of here."

  Kynyr forced all signs of weakness from his stride as he went to his horse, Bucky, and climbed into the saddle. He could not afford to get sick. There were too many things to do. There was still Shalto and his cousin Oswyl left to kill. Most of all, he did not want to worry Kady over something that was probably minor and would pass soon.

  * * * *

  Malthus followed Cheshire Road until it petered out into country lanes, and finally into a spider web of hunter's traces. At that point Malthus left the road and kept deep in the forest, making his own paths, traveling through shadowed places where he was unlikely to be seen. Glimpses of the distant mountains, seen through partings in the thick vegetation, served as landmarks to keep his bearings.

  After riding for two hours, Malthus caught a flash of orange moving through the trees above him. More and more of his watchers began to come out of hiding. Imps scampered through the trees on every side of him, through the brush and briars, and up in the trees leaping like wizened orange-skinned monkeys. He had been promised the service of dozens, under the leadership of the imp-warlord Gahni. Malthus and Gahni had worked together many times over the years. Yet it had taken substantial promises of food, gold, and booty to persuade Gahni to bring his people from the West Bank of the Hillora to Waejontor. There were not as many as before. Isranon had destroyed most of the tribe on their own grounds.

  Lord Brandrahoon had promised to make Malthus his agent here if he could infiltrate the lycans; and he had. In return, Brandrahoon had kept his promise, and given Malthus all that he asked for: substantial forces at his disposal, a wide range of units, and enough dark creatures to encompass all possibilities.

  "All possibilities except for Kynyr Maguire. He should be feeling the effects by now, but I've seen no sign of it. How much more do I have to get into him before he starts to die? Damnit."

  The trees gave way steadily, thinning into a rocky fell. As Malthus horse topped the first treeless rise, he saw the northern border of Claw's lands, the Place of Boulders. Huge rocks, which had fallen from the mountains rising above it, broke up the landscape like the remains of a giant's scattered toys. It looked like a good place for an ambush and Malthus rode cautiously through them.