Wolfking The Omnibus: Books 1-4

by Sarah Rayne

  But his hands were like ivory and his skin was like silk, and her senses were spinning into such strange and dangerous rapture that she no longer knew whether to cry with fear or with passion …

  She felt him part her thighs easily and smoothly, and of course it was all right, of course this was no cold sinister being from some eerily beautiful race … Passion rose again, so that she pulled him closer, unable to bear it any longer, wanting to feel the hard masculine strength, wanting to explore this faintly menacing feeling, wanting to know more of this remarkable intoxication.

  Maelduin’s mind was soaring into wild delight, and his body was spinning with ecstasy. Exhilaration engulfed him, and deep within it, the small sidh vein of amusement was saying, wasn’t it easy, wasn’t it the easiest thing in all the worlds, smooth and seamless, a silken melding of their bodies, a marvellous, magical uniting.

  Ecstasy rocketed upwards, and with it the urgency of need, a pulsating throbbing that he would not be able to bear much longer …

  He slid easily and smoothly into her body, feeling at once the extraordinary Humanish heat, flinching briefly, and then, swept along by the soaring delight, unable to control his wild desire.

  Murmur’s mind was in chaos; she was tumbling helplessly from passion to fear and then back to passion. She felt the icy coldness as Maelduin penetrated her, and gasped because he was cold, he was colder than any living soul, and it was as if he had thrust a glinting frozen spear into her body …

  She cried out, feeling icy fluid like frosted milk already beginning to fill her, and Maelduin, hearing her pain but beyond control, made a convulsive movement and felt, in a terrible searing ice-blue sheet of agony, the cold seed flow from him and flood the warm, Humanish blood.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Cerball and the Mugain, Bodb Decht and Iarbonel Soothsayer sat behind the great purple and silver desk which had been Nechtan’s, and looked at the slender, brilliant-eyed young man before them.

  Cerball had said, and the Mugain had agreed, that there should be just this small private inquiry. Murmur’s death in Maelduin’s bed had stunned the entire Palace, although Great-aunt Fuamnach remarked that she had always said that Murmur would come to a bad end. She did not say it with very much force, however, because she had rather liked Murmur — naughty, frivolous child, who might have no more moral sense than her Cousin Rumour, but who could usually be relied on to lend a sympathetic ear to a friend in trouble, or come up with a light-hearted remark if you were a bit low.

  They had all liked Murmur. Charm, said the Mugain dolefully, that was the thing. There was nothing quite like it, and Murmur, poor, dear child, had possessed it in great measure; well, didn’t all Rumour’s side of the family possess it? There would be a fine old sending off, the Mugain made no doubt of that. Cerball would see to it, of course, and wouldn’t they all contribute a bit towards the funerary rituals? To which Cerball, driven nearly to distraction by the thought of another funerary ritual, thought: I hope you will!

  They had decided that they would talk sensibly and quietly to Maelduin to find out what had happened. The Mugain had said that to be sure they did not want to be knowing the exact details; Murmur’s relationships were her own affair, and no doubt so were Maelduin’s. Cerball thought, but did not say, that you might almost call it an abuse of hospitality when a guest was welcomed into your home, given one of the nicest bedchambers (a south-facing view, it was, and caught the early sun), and then up and seduced your fifth cousin to death, plunging you into yet more unwelcome expense.

  They decided that there should be just a representative from each of the main branches of the family to talk to Maelduin and decide what ought to be done. Nothing official. There might be a very good explanation for Murmur’s death. As to the representatives, well, there would be Cerball himself and the Mugain on behalf of all the other Mugains; they would include Bodb Decht, who would speak for what were usually called the Scholars. They had hesitated a bit about inviting Iarbonel Soothsayer, because it was a moot point as to what standing the Arca Dubhs had in the family.

  ‘They haven’t any,’ said Great-aunt Fuamnach, who thought she should have been included and was a bit waspish as a result. ‘They haven’t any standing at all. There’s nothing but rubbish on that side of the family. I’m surprised Cerball considers it.’

  But Cerball had had to consider it, because there was the very worrying fact that the Arca Dubhs had recently been seen consorting somewhat furtively with the Black HeartStealers: not once, but several times. Cerball had asked, as politely as possible, if the Black HeartStealers would very kindly return to their homes, but he had received an evasive reply, and the outcome had been that they were all still in the Palace. This was worrying, because they all knew that the Black HeartStealers practised a type of sorcery which was beyond the Codes of the Academy of Sorcerers, and there had been some rather sinister marriages. Great-aunt Fuamnach said that Iarbonel Soothsayer’s grandmother had actually borne twins to a necromancer, and that the family trafficked with the Dark Realm, but this might have been an exaggeration. The Mugain and Bodb Decht were trying to keep watch on the Black HeartStealers’ activities in case of anything really nasty, such as out-and-out necromancy in the Looms Chamber, or a mutiny within the Palace walls, but the trouble was that you could not be watching people every minute of the day.

  In the end, they included Iarbonel on the grounds that not to do so might seriously upset the Arca Dubhs and provoke real rebellion, which was the last thing that was needed just now.

  Maelduin, called to stand before the great Desk of Sorcery that Nechtan had coaxed out of the hands of one of the High Kings, ought to have been subservient. His stance, facing them all, should certainly have been that of a supplicant, but he was neither supplicating nor subservient. His eyes glowed, and his head was tilted arrogantly, as if it was the Amaranths who were called to account, and Maelduin who was interrogating them. Cerball, unsure as to how they should deal with all this anyway, found himself thinking that surely the boy ought to be showing some remorse.

  Maelduin said at once, ‘I feel more remorse than you can know, Cerball,’ and Cerball thought crossly that the careless use of his name was all of a piece with the rest of this strange creature.

  ‘Should I then call you “my lord”?’ said Maelduin, picking this up at once, but speaking in a voice that said, quite plainly, he had no intention of using such a form of address.

  The Mugain, scenting antagonism, said, ‘I think it is immaterial what anyone calls anyone. That is not what we are here to discuss.’ And frowned at Maelduin with the expression that generally caused lesser members of his house to blench.

  Maelduin did not blench. He said, ‘I offer you my extreme regrets for the death of your …’ and hesitated, searching for the right term. ‘Of your sister,’ he said. Was that the right word? ‘I had not intended harm.’

  ‘Yes, but look here, young man, she didn’t just die of no accord!’ said Cerball. ‘You must have done something!’ He caught the flicker of a prurient grin from Iarbonel Soothsayer, and thought that matters had come to something when you could not make an ill-worded remark without your own kith and kin smirking offensively.

  ‘Murmur came to my bedchamber unasked,’ said Maelduin, and the Mugain looked very shocked, because such a statement was outside the code of politeness about seductions. The Mugain would not have dreamed of telling people that a young, attractive lady had visited his bedchamber unasked, even if it had happened, which unfortunately it had not. He shook his head and wondered where such behaviour would end, while Iarbonel Soothsayer made a note on the vellum-bound book he had brought, in which he was listing all the things they would use when they threw Cerball and the others into exile.

  Bodb Decht said firmly, ‘Could we at least know how Murmur died?’ and regarded Maelduin.

  Maelduin returned the look unblinkingly, and at length said, ‘I do not know myself.’ And then, as Cerball drew breath, he said, ‘But I believe it
is because she lay with one who is not Humanish.’ And then, as they stared at him, he said, ‘If I had known it would happen, I should not have permitted it. That would not have been in accordance with my creed.’

  There was silence. None of the four Amaranths knew quite what to say to this. At length, Cerball, choosing his words with care, said, ‘You’re telling us you are not Human?’

  ‘Of course I am not Human,’ said Maelduin. ‘Neither are you.’

  Cerball thought this was nothing to do with the matter, and the Mugain began to tell how the Amaranths had started out as pure-Human, and how it had only been with the advent of the Dawn Sorcerers that they had been given the Sacred Flame of Sorcery, but Cerball and Bodb Decht squashed this hurriedly, because once you got the Mugain off on the exact balance of Human blood against sorcerous he was apt to get carried away.

  In any case, said Cerball, weren’t there any number of people who had their blood mingled with other species, and how would Tara itself survive if it had to be inhabited by Humans?

  ‘It will be one day,’ said Iarbonel, putting on the rather distant look he kept for prophecies. ‘At some far-away time, the Humans will take Tara. And then the Curse of Tara will —’

  The Mugain said be bothered and be blowed to the Curse of Tara, because didn’t they all of them know that it would one day overtake them, it could not be kept at bay for ever, but so long as it happened after he, the Mugain, had departed to the Place Beneath the Ocean Roof, he did not much care.

  ‘To return to this matter of Human blood,’ began Bodb Decht, and looked inquiringly at Maelduin, who said in his cool, silver voice:

  ‘I have no Humanish blood in me at all.’ And regarded them, his narrow eyes piercingly brilliant.

  Bodb Decht, staring, said, quite suddenly, ‘You’re a sidh.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How —’

  ‘I am the Crown Prince,’ said Maelduin, and now the arrogance was unmistakable. ‘I am the son of Aillen mac Midha, and the heir to Tiarna and the underwater Palace of the Nimfeach.’ He looked at them with the slant-eyed look that quite clearly said: and since in my world I bow my head to no creature, I do not intend to do so here. Cerball experienced a sudden compulsion to kneel before this eerily beautiful, imperious creature.

  Bodb Decht, staring at Maelduin in complete fascination, said, ‘It’s your eyes. I once saw a cave drawing of one of your people, and there were long turquoise eyes depicted by some kind of gemstone — I don’t remember what exactly. But there was the same look: like the western oceans with the sun glinting on them.’ He studied Maelduin. ‘And your voice is different. Cooler.’

  Maelduin said, ‘So that is how you knew.’ He regarded Bodb Decht. ‘Then our sorcery is not quite as perfect as we had believed,’ he said. ‘I had hoped to be unchallenged.’

  ‘Why are you here?’ said Cerball.

  ‘Because our world was invaded by a being who had been chained in the Pit of the Dark Lords —’

  ‘The Gristlen?’

  ‘Yes. So you know of it also.’

  ‘It has been here,’ said Bodb Decht.

  ‘And will again,’ said Iarbonel Soothsayer, shaking his head.

  ‘It came to our world,’ said Maelduin, and now the brilliant eyes were misty with pain. ‘And it stole the one thing that we cherished and valued; the thing that was our life-blood.’

  ‘The music,’ said Bodb Decht, very softly.

  ‘Yes.’ Maelduin regarded them again. ‘And so I have submitted to the Ancient Enchantment so that I may walk in your world and recover the music. I have donned the Cloak of Humanish Skin.’

  The Mugain said slowly, ‘Your people frequently hunt ours for sport and slaughter. Even if we believe you, we cannot trust you.’

  Maelduin lifted one shoulder, as if to say: trust me or not and believe me or not, just as you choose, and the Amaranths looked uneasily at one another, each of them thinking: ought we to tell him? Ought we to tell him how the Gristlen brought it here, and how Rumour and the monk Andrew took it with them to help them to reach the Dark Realm and Theodora?

  Maelduin said, in his soft, beautiful voice, ‘So that is what happened. I see.’

  ‘You hear our thoughts?’ This was the Mugain.

  ‘Yes. If your thoughts are near to the surface, I hear them clearly. Although it is forbidden most strictly to pry beneath that surface.’

  Cerball said, cautiously, ‘You possess the Samhailt?’

  ‘A form of it,’ said Maelduin, tranquilly. ‘Although for your people I think the Samhailt is almost lost. You have misused it and sometimes you have abused it, and it has become frayed and worn, almost to extinction. You rely on your Humanish speech. Perhaps that is why you lost the Cadence.’ He frowned, and said, quite suddenly, ‘So the music was here but is here no longer. I have missed it. I was so near, but it has eluded me.’ There was suddenly such pain in his voice that no one dared to speak.

  Maelduin appeared to withdraw, as if considering the matter, and then, without warning, the ice-blue fire blazed back into his eyes. ‘Your people took the music to penetrate the Black Ireland,’ he said, accusingly, and his stare was so piercing that the Amaranths shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

  Cerball said, ‘They intend to return it to Tiarna,’ and was annoyed to find a note of self-deprecation creeping into his voice. ‘After they have managed to find Theodora,’ he said.

  ‘Theodora?’

  ‘Well, she’s —’

  ‘She is your heir,’ said Maelduin, suddenly, looking at Cerball as if he thought him a fool. ‘And — she is in the hands of the Lord of Chaos?’

  ‘Well, yes. You see —’

  ‘But that is extremely serious,’ said Maelduin. ‘Why did you not summon my people? Why did you not invoke the ancient law that binds us to help you?’ And stopped speaking suddenly, because the answer was perfectly clear. ‘You did call to us,’ he said, staring at them. ‘You called and we could not hear you.’

  ‘Well, yes,’ said Cerball awkwardly. ‘That’s what we did. The music —’

  ‘The music had by then been taken,’ said Maelduin, half to himself. ‘Yes, I see it now.’ He looked back up at them, his eyes blazing. This is a situation of immense gravity,’ he said. ‘But you will know that. The Princess is in Chaos’s hands. How long has she been his prisoner?’

  Cerball found himself apologising again, and explaining that they had not thought of Theodora in that way.

  ‘But she is your House’s Ruler,’ said Maelduin, impatiently, and Bodb Decht said thoughtfully, ‘You know, Chaos himself said something of the same kind. That Theodora was the heir.’ He looked at Maelduin with renewed respect.

  The Mugain who was still goggling at Maelduin said, ‘But she’s a child of six —’

  ‘Yes?’ said Maelduin, politely.

  ‘There was the Ritual,’ said Cerball, frowning. And then, to Maelduin, ‘That is the Ritual of the Segais Well.’

  ‘I know of it.’

  ‘But it wasn’t finished,’ said Cerball, still trying to remember exactly what had happened. ‘We didn’t complete it because of the Fomoire and the Lord of Chaos …’ He broke off again, staring at Maelduin. ‘Even if the Ritual would have pointed to Theodora —’

  ‘She is your House’s Ruler and without it you’re dangerously vulnerable,’ said Maelduin.

  ‘But a child —’

  Cerball said, ‘She is only six —’

  ‘That does not matter. Without your Ruler, your House is weakened. Also,’ said Maelduin, ‘it is possible that they intend to hold the Princess to some kind of ransom.’

  ‘We had not thought of that,’ said Bodb Decht, and Cerball did not like to say that he had thought of it, but that he had been hoping it would not happen, because he was not sure if there was enough money to pay a ransom.

  Maelduin said, ‘The music of the sidh will be of immense protection to your emissaries, and since the Princess must be reached, I cannot deprive them of it.�
� He stopped, frowning, and at length he said, ‘No, it would be impossible. It would break the ancient law that requires my people to help the Royal Houses of Ireland. I cannot do it. Even if I could reach them, I would not take the one thing that might aid their quest.’ There was anger in his voice, and frustration, but when he looked back at them, something shone in his eyes. ‘But there is the Cadence,’ he said, softly, and felt their start of surprise with amusement. Had they not expected him to refer to the Cadence?

  The Mugain said defensively, ‘What about the Cadence?’ and Maelduin grinned inwardly. But he said, politely, ‘It is here. My father made your House a gift of it.’

  Maelduin was bitterly disappointed at finding the music beyond his reach, but he had seen what he thought might be another way to save his people. He was beginning to enjoy the Amaranths’ discomfiture; clearly they were rather ashamed of having lost the Cadence, and equally clearly they had been intending on keeping its loss a huge secret. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms and waited to see what they would do. ‘Well,’ began Cerball. ‘The thing is —’

  ‘Unfortunately,’ put in the Mugain, ‘we no longer —’

  ‘That you lost it is known to us,’ said Maelduin, impatient and suddenly losing interest in the game. ‘You lost it, but you lost only the understanding of it. It is still here.’

  ‘Is it?’ Cerball looked to Bodb Decht for guidance, and Bodb Decht said slowly:

  ‘It must be. Yes, of course, it must be.’ He turned back to Maelduin. ‘Within the Cadence Tower, would it be? Yes, for Nechtan wove it into the walls and into the substance and the fabric of the place. It was then that it became lost to us.’ Maelduin, listening and watching, thought: so it is nearer even than I hoped! Good! But he said in his cool, silvery voice, ‘Would you permit me to revive it?’

  ‘Well, it —’

  ‘If it is truly there, it can be revived. And it is the matrix spell, the core. Inside Tiarna we use a version of it in our spells, but it is — I think you would say — a pale copy. The genesis enchantment would be quite immensely powerful …’ He leaned forward, suddenly and endearingly youthful. ‘If you would permit me to try, you would find that I would be no trouble to you. I am accustomed to long hours of study. And if you would prefer that I do not eat at your table and sleep beneath your roof, I can fend for myself.’ A sudden mischievous grin. ‘I am accustomed to fending for myself,’ he said. ‘But if I could revive the Cadence, the true, original heartspell, perhaps I could use it to save my people.’