Janrae Frank - [Lycan Blood 02] - Fireborn Law

by Fireborn Law [lit]

  Things began to click into place in Caimbeul's mind. There were matters that Pandeena, priest and yuwenghau, would never be able to learn; places in their society where she could not walk; places where she was not admitted. No wonder that she needed him.

  Five young lycans lounged on tree rounds beneath a chestnut tree. Their attitude and body language made him think of city wolves. He recognized two of them as Shalto and Oswyl, the pair that had been observing them in the cemetery the other day.

  A tall, lanky fellow, wearing drawstring pants that looked ready to slide off his hips, made a circle with thumb and forefinger and began poking the middle finger of his opposite hand through the circle in a suggestive manner after indicating Caimbeul with a thrust of his chin.

  Shalto brayed with laughter. "She must like gray dick."

  A small, scrawny youth with reddish brown hair bent over his folded arms, his body shaking with loud cackles. "Must be the wrinkles. Tickles her flesh hole."

  Caimbeul decided not to address the comment, made a mental note of their faces, and started down the path that would take him to the village. He had just reached the road when he spotted Odhran riding up, leading the gelding that Pandeena had bought him.

  "Lawgiver!" Odhran drew rein in front of him. "I suppose you'd rather ride. Your packhorse has been unloaded at the Lawgiver House."

  Caimbeul took the reins of his mount from Odhran and climbed into the saddle. "Lead on."

  "If there's anything you need, just ask."

  "A better horse."

  "Do you want to do that right now?"

  Caimbeul licked his lips. "Nah. Do that tomorrow. Show me the Lawgiver House. I'm moving in today whether it's clean or not. I don't want another night on her sofa."

  Odhran chuckled at the acerbic tone in Caimbeul's voice. "So the house first?"

  They rode along the broad dirt road, close to the side to take advantage of shade thrown by the clusters of oaks and maples.

  "Inns? Taverns? Places where folks get together?"

  "We have two inns and five taverns. When they took the last census that was about ten years ago the population of Wolffgard, if you add in the manor, was over two thousand. And most of them were under the age of sixty. Can you imagine having that many young people? We should really be calling ourselves a town, but the elders keep rejecting those suggestions."

  Caimbeul narrowed one eye and closed the other. "I've seen bigger."

  "Lycan?"

  "Yeah. So tell me about these taverns. Give me the names in order of popularity."

  "Well, the Difficult Horse is the biggest and the most popular." Odhran scratched his ear and thought for a moment. "I guess the Striped Dog would be next. The Dog and the Partridge. The Hunt. The Sheep's Clothing."

  They reached the Lawgiver House without incident. Caimbeul dismounted and stood in the yard, staring at it and scratching his head while Odhran gave him the history of the place. He only listened with half an ear, but figured that he had gotten all the important parts.

  The Lawgiver House was an eccentric pastiche of various styles of human architecture designed by Maldwyn Softpaws, Nikko's father, with too much interference from Claw Redhand. As a result it stood four stories high with a basement equally divided into store rooms and dungeons. It had balconies, parapets, gargoyles, towers and dormer windows, as well as other architectural nightmares that made Caimbeul wince just to look at it. He could see why Nikko had preferred to live with his mother.

  Rivaling the manor for size, it had taken ten years to complete. Rumor had it that Claw had built this house as a way of relieving the sense of emptiness that had plagued him after the deaths of his sons, turning it into an obsessive hobby and Maldwyn's artistic bane.

  Caimbeul dug his fingers into the inner corners of his eyes as Odhran imparted that last bit of information to him. He had never had more than passing contact with Logan, the younger of Claw's twin sons; but he had known Tarrant well.

  Odhran led Caimbeul inside and gave him the keys to the various doors.

  The short, broad foyer led into a sitting room to the right hand and a hallway directly ahead. Nibari bustled about, cleaning and dusting.

  Odhran gestured at them. "Claw sent them to get the place in order."

  "Are there any servants attached to this monstrosity?"

  "Not since Nevin Scarface left. However, I'm certain that Claw would be willing to give you some."

  "I'll think about it." Caimbeul spied his packs piled on a table in the sitting room. "I'm not used to having company." He sauntered over and sat down on a sofa, propping his feet on the table beside his packs. "You!" He gestured at one of the nibari, a shapely brunette. "Get me two glasses."

  Caimbeul thumbed at the sofa where he sat. "Sit down." He leaned forward and snagged one of his packs onto his lap, taking out a bottle of Dragonsbreath. The nibari returned with the glasses and he ran his eyes over her body as he poured whiskey for Odhran and himself. Nibari, the genetically altered humans, were the most docile and compliant of creatures. The best thing about them, to Caimbeul's mind, was that having sex with a nibari slave was not considered a stain upon a lycan's reputation among the clans. It had been decades since Caimbeul had made the bottle his only companion. He studied her. "What's your name?"

  "Dulcinea, if it pleases you, Master."

  "Are you in season?"

  "No, sir."

  "You'll warm my bed tonight?"

  She favored him with a sweet smile. "As you wish."

  Odhran gave Caimbeul a long, sidewise glance.

  "I ain't had any in thirty years, I'm entitled to it," Caimbeul growled.

  Odhran lowered his head and chuckled. "I guess so."

  Caimbeul handed Odhran a glass of whiskey and took a swallow from his own. "Maybe I'll see about buying some nibari of my own."

  "They're expensive."

  "I can afford them." Caimbeul took another drink, contemplating the luxuries he had not had in far too long, and which were now his again. "I want to ask you some questions, Odhran."

  "Ask."

  "Tell me about this Kynyr Maguire to start with. What does he look like?"

  "Tarrant Redhand. That's what everyone says. I wouldn't know myself. He'd been dead nigh on sixty years before I was born."

  Caimbeul scratched behind his ear in an attempt to hide his irritation. The more people that said Kynyr looked like Tarrant; the more tempted Caimbeul became to hit first and ask questions later the moment someone introduced them.

  * * * *

  Sunlight lanced through the windows, glinting on Kynyr's golden hair as he sat on the edge of his bed, pulling on his boots. Ramsey and Finn had already carried their gear down to the stable and were getting their horses saddled and the team hitched to the wagon. Eideard lingered, staring at a knothole in the wall with a pensive air that made Kynyr wonder if his friend was trying to muster the courage for words.

  Kynyr glanced at Eideard time and again. "Something you want to tell me?"

  "What would you say, if I told you" Eideard's voice dribbled off to a coarse whisper and he lowered his head until his chin nearly rested on his chest. He swallowed and his eyes searched the floor. "If I told you I know who killed Cullen?"

  "I'd ask how you got the information." Kynyr finished with his boots, stood up and walked over to stand in front of Eideard while he buckled his blades on.

  "What if I didn't want to tell you that?"

  "Then I wouldn't trust the information. Where were you last night? I waited up past midnight."

  "Walking."

  "So, you were just walking around and someone on the street decided to whisper the name in your ear? Not bloody likely. Where did you go? Who did you talk to?"

  "Walking! I was just walking." Eideard's face flushed and he clasped his hands together. "Just walking."

  "You went to see Ellie, didn't you?"

  "No!" Eideard jumped to his feet and headed for the door. He paused with his hand on the knob. "I didn't go anywhere
near Ellie last night."

  "If I find out otherwise, there'll be hell to pay and it won't come from me. It will come from Claw."

  Emotion flickered across Eideard's face and vanished before Kynyr could decipher it.

  "What did you do?"

  "Nothing! I went for a walk. That's it."

  "Get your gear together we're going home."

  Eideard plunged through the door as if a demon had him by the tail. Kynyr exhaled heavily, his brow furrowing. Something was bothering Eideard. Kynyr had half a mind to drop by the Crimson Lady, but doubted that anyone would be up this early and he did not want to spend another day in Hell's Widow. He had one of those itches, which Todd called a gut instinct, that the longer they stayed in town, the more danger he and his companions were in.

  * * * *

  Pandeena had been postponing introducing herself to Cahira Sinclair as long as she could. She doubted that Kynyr realized yet that she was chasing him, but he would if he caught her hanging around his grandmother all the time. She glanced back every few blocks to be certain that Caimbeul had not followed her. The last thing she needed was to have a jealous ex-husband making a scene in Cahira's shop.

  Main Street in Wolffgard dead-ended at Cheshire Road in the north near the path that led down from the refugee camp that Pandeena lived on the edge of. Heading from the camp into the village, her long legs ate the distance with an easy, swinging stride. Kynyr was due back that afternoon and she planned to accidentally-on-purpose encounter him at Cahira's. He reminded her of Tarrant Redhand in ways that made her mouth water and her loins grow damp.

  She strode down Main Street, nodding to the myn who greeted her in passing. Most of the villagers had welcomed her with open arms. As she neared the center of the village, near the broad green common, she spied three coming out of the Difficult Horse Tavern that had been a constant source of aggravation: Preece Malloy and the two Beggins cousins, Shalto and Oswyl. They lived and worked at the camp. Those three were scum of the worst order, and if she could have found a way to get rid of them she would have. In fact, she had tried to persuade Clodagh to dismiss them and gotten nowhere.

  There was something off-kilter about Preece that Pandeena had trouble defining. For one thing, his dead, jaded eyes and indolent smile bothered her. The second was far harder to identify, but she could sense a deeper rot in his soul. He went bare-chested in the heat, his drawstring pants slouched around his lanky hips. If they had been any looser his pants would have slid to his yard. 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. Years of working in the sun had weathered his fair skin to a nut brown. A length of leather held his long, mustard brown hair in a tail at his neck. Pandeena knew that many of the younger bitches found him attractive in a bad wolf way. She had given up on arguing with them to stay away from Preece.

  She saw nothing remarkable about Shalto and Oswyl. However, they had attempted to forcibly seduce her a few months back. It had taken them weeks to fully recover from the beating she gave them.

  Preece Malloy spotted her first and punched his companions. They all glanced at her. Shalto grinned and said something that Pandeena could not quite catch. Then Preece lowered his hand, palm up, and made a sexually-suggestive poking motion at her with his middle finger.

  Pandeena ignored it, although it made her hackles rise. She turned down Elmind Street south of the Difficult Horse, and walked two blocks further to Cahira's Potions and Notions. The shop was only a month old. Cahira had arrived in Wolffgard a little over two months ago to look after Kynyr, who had been wounded by an unseen assailant during a riot at the camp. Pandeena's inquiries as to what had caused the riot had so far produced nothing.

  Baroucha, the other healer in Wolffgard, had been steadily losing business to Cahira. Rumor had it that there was an old rivalry at work there. Pandeena could understand why as she stood in front of Cahira's brightly painted shop. The windows with boxes of flowers along the bottom had a welcoming look that Baroucha's dingy shop lacked. She had briefly known Baroucha eighty years ago; an unpleasant young healer who had become involved with one of the most infamous lycan mages ever to exist: Alistar Weems, notorious for his alleged power of the Evil Eye. Alistar had been summarily executed by Tarrant Redhand and his mentor, Todd Sinclair.

  Pandeena stopped in her tracks with her hand on the door knob, frowning. "Todd's dead. This can't be the same Todd Sinclair. Todd, Cahira, Baroucha it's too much coincidence."

  She pushed the door open and a bell rang as she entered. The bright interior equaled the outside for welcome. Cases lined the room, polished wood halfway up and glass the rest with neat wooden shelves behind them. A long table sat at the rear with chairs around it. Two cubs stood on ladders stocking the shelves, while a third handed things up to them. She recognized Cooley Sinclair on one ladder and Rory Scott on the other. Rory's younger brother, Hamish, was the one handing jars and bottles to them.

  They all turned to look, pausing in their efforts to restock the shelves.

  Rory Scott climbed down and approached her. "Can I help you?"

  "I'm here to see Cahira. Is she around?"

  "In the back." Rory pointed at a door behind the table, and returned to his ladder.

  "Thank you." Pandeena walked into the back room. She stared for an instant at the old lycan bitch grinding herbs with mortar and pestle, seeing something familiar about her just peel away the years and "Cahira Maguire."

  "Pandeena!" Cahira looked up from her grinding, her eyes widened into saucers. "Oh my gods, you haven't changed at all." Setting aside the mortar and pestle, Cahira sprang to her feet, rushed around the table, and threw herself at Pandeena.

  "Long-lived blood I've got long-lived blood." Pandeena wrapped her arms around Cahira and they held each other for a long time. "Now I know why Kynyr looks so much like Tarrant."

  Cahira started shaking. "You mustn't tell anyone. I'm begging you, Pandeena."

  The terror in Cahira's voice moved Pandeena. "I won't. Does Claw know?" She walked her over to a sofa along the back wall.

  Cahira shook her head and leaned back. "He thinks Branduff is Todd's."

  "The last time I saw you you were sixteen and so swollen with Tarrant's child you could hardly move."

  "Let's not talk about Tarrant. It still makes me cry."

  Pandeena hugged her again. "So be it. But you must tell Claw."

  "No!"

  "But Kynyr is the rightful heir. He's Red Wolf's prince."

  "No. Branduff's a bastard. He doesn't count." Cahira pushed free of Pandeena. "I never wanted Kynyr to come here. He's so stubborn."

  "Hello, am I interrupting?" Todd came in, buckling his blades on as he walked; a pair of long knives at his hips and two broadswords at his shoulders. "I thought we might go for a walk."

  Pandeena's expression brightened in a mix of pleasure and surprise. Age had put lines in Todd's face and a sprinkling of gray in his red hair, but she could still recognize the mon she had known during the years of the tragic Lycan Rebellion eighty years ago. She bounded across the room and grabbed him. "Creation! They told me you were dead killed in that ambush when Tarrant was taken."

  Todd blinked. "Do I know Pandeena? By the gods, Pandeena! You haven't changed at all."

  "Long-lived blood. You look so well. I can't believe it."

  "If it hadn't been for a peddler named Dyna and her grandchildren I wouldn't be here."

  "Dyna" Pandeena half-choked on the name. Suddenly, she saw the Trickster's signature written over everything.

  "You know her? Our attackers left me for dead. Her grandchildren found me. Bodi and Lilac."

  "I'm surprised it wasn't Sugar and Pie." Pandeena hugged him again. "They're coming to Wolffgard."

  "But"

  "Long-lived."

&nb
sp; A smile curled across Todd's face. "We have a lot of catching up to do. I'm a grandpa several times over. Have you met Kynyr?"

  Pandeena's cheeks reddened. "Met him? I've been drooling over him for weeks."

  Todd laughed.

  * * * *

  Caimbeul drew every eye as he entered the Difficult Horse with his lawgiver runes showing. There were not many wolves his size. He stood six foot five inches and weighed three hundred pounds. Except for the beer belly, Caimbeul was not fat.

  Hereward Wiggins came out from behind his bar with two tankards of mead, grinning. "On the house. Welcome to Wolffgard, Lawgiver."

  Caimbeul settled at a table with Odhran and accepted the offering with a nod. "I'm liking this place already."

  "That's good. I can't stay much longer. I have bridge duty today."

  "What do you do exactly?"

  Odhran cocked his head to conceal a glance at table near the back of the common room to the far right of them. "Odd jobs mostly. I'm a tinker by trade; however, I share the civilian watch on the bridge. I've been doing it since our lawgiver, Nikko Softpaws, died. There's three of us. I also help out around Sanctuary four days a week."

  Caimbeul's eyes tracked to what Odhran had glanced at and recognized the same five wolves who had made the risqué comments to him earlier. A dark-skinned mon sat with them. The only dark face in a sea of fair ones made it impossible to miss him. "Does Malthus come here a lot?"

  "Yeah." Odhran downed the rest of his tankard and pushed back from the table. "Those young dogs sitting with him they're the Lycamornots. Rumors cling to them like spider silk on a fly. I don't have time to talk now." Odhran rose to his feet. "I'll come by this evening after work, if you've more questions."

  "I'll have plenty."

  * * * *

  The closer they got to home, the more Kynyr found himself thinking about Kady Wiggins. He had a promise to keep. Kynyr intended track down Cormic Parry and beat him bloody for what he had done to Kady. One thought led to another, and Kynyr found himself wondering if Kady knew how to dance. The Autumn Eve Faire was only three weeks away. Kynyr decided that this year he would ask Kady to go to the Faire with him.