Malthus retreated. Since he had brought no weapons, the only way to fight the cat would be with magic and that would reveal him as sa'necari.
Noises came from the hallway. The door opened behind him and Claw came in with a lamp, followed by Aisha and Merissa.
"What is going on?" Claw demanded, casting an accusatory glance at Malthus.
"I heard the glass break," Malthus told them. "So I came to see and the cat threatened to attack me."
"Then the cat has better sense than some people," said Claw in his crustiest tone, throwing a glance at Merissa. "If he wants to stay with the cub that bad, then I say he stays with the cub."
"I don't think that is wise." Malthus said.
"I don't care what you think," Claw cut him off. "It's my house and my grandcub."
Malthus shrugged. "As you say, it's your house. I will not object again."
Damn the old wolf. I'll reach the boy yet.
Perhaps, it was time for Claw to die. Malthus considered his choices. He could quicken the process that he was already using. Or he could resort to a few poisons his mother had developed that were too subtle and unfamiliar for the Readers to detect. And then, there was always a viper in his bed. The weather was still warm enough for one of his mother's pets now housed in the cave to find its way inside without anyone questioning how it got there.
By the time that Malthus made his decision, Merissa had fallen asleep, curled on her side. He walked through the great hall alone at midnight. He went to the table beside Claw's chair where the little pipe rack and tobacco jar sat in the middle. One by one he renewed his spells on Claw's pipes. He smiled as he worked, sketching the spell on the bowl, watching it melt into the pipe and vanish from view. Each time that Claw smoked these pipes, another strand of the death magics would be drawn inside the old asshole's chest until it accumulated into enough to kill him. Malthus wondered if he was being too subtle. It had been nearly two months since the wedding, and he had seen little evidence of the effectiveness of his handiwork. If he did not see more soon, Malthus would increase the strength of his spells.
Claw had sent for a new healer, Sheradyn Kelly. Once Sheradyn got there, Malthus doubted that he would be able to get any more of the subtle poison into Claw's medicine. Baroucha was becoming expendable; however, her shop was useful. He would write his mother about finding the old crone an apprentice a pretty one; one who could easily compete with Cahira for business.
Claw kept a second small rack of pipes on his desk in his study. Malthus headed back upstairs to treat those pipes also.
He imagined what Claw would look like writhing on the floor, and smiled. They were bringing in the best healer in the valley to attend to Merissa's pregnancy, but Sheradyn would not be able to cure Claw's heart problems once they became obvious. No one would short of a master lifemage.
* * * *
Claw sat down on the side of his bed, breathing heavily. His chest hurt with a feeling of pressure in the center. Every time he allowed himself to become too angry, the pain started. It worried him, but he had not spoken to Aisha about it. Sheradyn would be arriving tomorrow. If it kept up, then he would speak to Sheradyn about it. He would find it easier to talk to a male healer, than another pushy female. Claw had spoken to Baroucha only once about it and then never gone back; sending Morcar to pick up the medicine she had blended for it.
Now the medicine seemed to be less and less effective, and Claw was both afraid of what Sheradyn would tell him, and dismissive of it. He knew that he was getting old. He and Aisha should not have waited so long to have Merissa. If it worsened, he would try again to find his brother Brock in Creeya. Brock had last visited when Merissa was twelve, and told Claw that should he have need of him to write to the Grand Master; that the Grand Master could find anyone in the realm. Their father, Suleahan Redhand had exiled Brock because of a family scandal. The first thing that Claw had done upon becoming chieftain ninety years ago had been to rescind that order of banishment; however, Brock had only come home once and refused to stay.
Malthus' behavior toward Darmyk's cat irritated him. Resentment flared. Claw had been Darmyk's surrogate father for three years, and now he had been displaced by Malthus. He had wanted Merissa to marry eventually, but had never really considered how that would affect his relationship with his grandcub. Malthus felt like an intruder to Claw whenever they disagreed about Darmyk.
Claw pulled off his boots, set them to the side of the bed, shrugged out of his robe and tossed it on the floor. He paused for breath, wondering how so little exertion could set off another round of discomfort. Yanking the string on his trousers, Claw shoved out of his pants and small clothes. He threw the blankets back and slid between the cool sheets, wishing Aisha had got here first and warmed them.
Aisha came in and disrobed. Claw ran his eyes over her and forgot his troubles. Despite the white hair, she was still a fine looking bitch, and he always looked at her with the eye of memory.
"You shouldn't fuss so with Malthus." Aisha settled next to him and put her head on his shoulder as she stroked his hairy chest. "It upsets Merissa. The mon is only trying to be a good father as he sees it."
"I don't like him," Claw grumbled, digging his hand into the muscles of his left arm in an attempt to relieve some of the pain. "Something about the mon just doesn't ring true."
"You're judging him by his race, Claw. I know you'd've liked it better if Merissa had married one of her own kind, but love is love."
"Kiss me, old bitch, and I'll show you love."
"Stop snarling and I will."
* * * *
Caimbeul stood before the full-length mirror in the Lawgiver's House that had been given to him. He rubbed his hand over his stubbly chin. Not even Pandeena knew about this freakish talent of his that he had inherited from his fireborn granddam. Eirian and her lycan husband, Clachmund, had been unable to have children because their genetics were too far apart. So they went to Ishla's temple for the potions that would allow them to produce a child of their joining. However, such potions generally contained an arcane mutagen, and odd talents cropped up now and again in their children and grandchildren.
The lawgiver had one of those actually he had a handful of them, but he only intended to use one tonight.
Studying himself more closely in the mirror, Caimbeul stroked his face with his forefingers. His broad, squared-jawed face thinned. The stubbly beard vanished. His grizzled hair turned a light golden brown and hung to his waist. He gained height and youth. He could not completely lose the breadth of his shoulders, but his body was now narrow hipped with a nice waist. He looked less like a bear, and more like a fireborn. But he would still smell lycan. Caimbeul went to his closet. Nevin had left a lot behind and some of it would fit this form.
He chose through things that were nice, but with nothing that might have identified them as having belonged to Nevin such as the formal blue robe with the red wolves embroidered on it, although he would have loved to have worn it. That lawgiver had had many fine things, but then villages liked to see their leaders lawgivers, priests, and chieftains in fine clothing, so most of it had probably been solstice gifts. Caimbeul pondered on why Nevin had left so much behind so willingly. But he knew the rumors that Nevin had been in love with Isranon, and love made myn do strange things.
Then his thoughts strayed to Pandeena. Love I know its strangeness well .
Once clothed in a black silken robe, Caimbeul placed a handful of seed crystals in his pocket. It would not do for him to get one of the females pregnant if his suspicions were correct. Pandeena would be unhappy with him for what he was about to do, but he had to test his hunch. He would go to at least three of the women tonight, a sa'necari, a human, and the only lycan, Clodagh. Finally, he belted his knives on. These were not the ones he had carried when his son was alive these blades had never taken a life. They were the ones that Pandeena had insisted upon buying him after the incident with the Waejontori patrol.
He found his way back to the
compound, and stood for a moment, studying the houses, from the shade of an oak cluster. He heard someone approach him from the side.
"Have you come for some?" the young male whispered.
"Indeed." Caimbeul put a sneer in his voice. "I didn't expect to find a place like this among my country cousins, although I frequented them often enough in the cities."
Caimbeul turned and faced him. He tried to remember where he had seen this one before, to place his name, but it wouldn't come.
"You're new here, aren't you?"
"I just rode in yesterday. I'm most recently from Cherdon'datar. Since news of the rebellion got out, a lot of us are drifting back. I was talking to a friend at Hereward's and he said to come here."
The younger male muffled a laugh with his hand. "Yes, this is the place. Just be discreet, we don't want the priest or that stuffy lawgiver catching us."
Caimbeul smiled. "No, we wouldn't want them spoiling a bit of fun. I've never known a lawgiver or a priest who didn't have a prude's tail up their ass."
"What's your name?"
"Patton."
"Nice to meet you, I'm Shalto. What flavor cock-niche do you favor? We have human, lycan, and sa'necari."
"Well, Shalto, I'm a mon who likes them all, partial to whatever I can stick mine into. I'm a well-traveled mon. What do you suggest?"
"The sa'necari. We've got five of them, lovely holes they have and very cooperative."
"Don't they bite?"
"Nah. They're corded. They don't bite unless you're into that stuff. I know some that are, but I'm not."
"So which house do you recommend I try first?"
Shalto pointed at Kandaishee's home. "That one. She's the best. And she sucks and swallows too."
"Sounds like my kind of bitch. Have a drink with me tomorrow so I can give you a proper thanks?"
"Certainly. Meet me at the Difficult Horse around noon."
That I will, Shalto. That I will. Caimbeul went to Kandaishee's door and knocked.
"Who is it?" Kandaishee asked.
"A friend told me you could see to my needs," Caimbeul replied.
Kandaishee opened the door and stepped back. She wore a lycan style robe and immediately started opening it. The sa'necari had fine, delicate features, dark-skin, and long black hair.
Caimbeul noted that she appeared to be nearly four months pregnant. She looked tired and worn.
"Do you want to do it here, or in the bedroom?" Kandaishee asked him.
"I like it in bed."
"You're a new one," Kandaishee remarked as she led him to her bedroom and stretched out to wait for him with her legs opened.
"I only arrived in Wolffgard today."
"Is there a position you prefer?"
"What ever is comfortable for you with that belly. When's it due?
"Late winter."
Caimbeul climbed onto the bed with her. He stroked her body for a long time, turned her on her side, and took her from the back when his fingers told him she was ready. As he moved inside her, enjoying the way she moaned with sensuous pleasure, Caimbeul discreetly slid his Readers gift through her in a low level scan too gentle to be noticed. Someone had been in her mind, but if he went deeply enough to find out more, she would become aware of his presence. Not even sex would mask that intrusion.
He expanded slightly, focusing on the child, as the approach of orgasm threatened to drive all thought from his mind. Caimbeul found traces of psychic scarring in her womb and surrounding the child. The pregnancy originated from a violent rape. Revulsion washed through him and he nearly lost his erection. He withdrew his awareness from Kandaishee's body, forgot everything but the way her warm, wet sheath clutched at his cock and exploded inside her.
Caimbeul rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. His hand idly stroked her.
A knock came at the front door. Kandaishee sat up. "You have to leave now."
She followed him to the door without bothering to put her clothes on. He caught the glint of tears in her eyes as the door opened. She let in a young wolf that could not have been more than fifteen. The youth immediately put his hand between her legs as if Caimbeul was not even there.
"Let your fangs down," the youth ordered her. "You know how I like it."
The old wolf slipped past them and out the door.
He stood in the darkness, with his fists tightening and relaxing only to tighten again. Part of him said that he should not care what happened to a sa'necari sa'necari had murdered his son. Yet something about the weary helplessness of Kandaishee touched him. Caimbeul pushed the thoughts away. He had come here to investigate, not lose himself in pity.
He considered which way to go next, watching the youths and a few older wolves sneaking through the compound, most of them pretending not to see each other. Caimbeul headed for the main longhouse.
His chest constricted, wondering if Clodagh was part of this, certainly Shalto had said there was a lycan slut, but what if there were a lycan living here that Caimbeul did not know about? Did he give the words or not?
Clodagh answered his knock in the nude. Her young face had lines of exhaustion that Caimbeul had missed the day he met her. Either that, or she had been roughly handled for a few days. Her blue eyes held the haunted ghosts of nightmares past and present lurking in their depths.
"On the floor or in the bed?" Clodagh asked without waiting for him to speak, weary resignation underlined her words.
Had her mind been touched also, like Kandaishee's? Kandaishee's could have been old damage from an encounter with one of her own kind before reaching here, but Clodagh? No, that made no sense. "Bed."
"You're new," she said, leading the way and pointing at her bed. "How do you want me, on my back or on my knees?"
Caimbeul shrugged, and slipped out of his robe. "On your back will be fine."
He felt dirtier with Clodagh than he had with Kandaishee. She lay back and he straddled her on his knees. Her nose wrinkled and she sniffed his erection. "You've already been with one of us?"
"Is there some rule that says I can't have more than one in a night?"
Clodagh shook her head. "You can have as many as you like."
He straightened out on top of her, his heavy body pushing her deep into the rushes filling her mattress.
Clodagh whimpered and turned her face to the side to breathe. "Stick it in and get it over with."
Caimbeul smelled the reek of despair clinging to her, and he sat back on his haunches. He fumbled in the pocket of his robe and took out a flat circular, and highly polished crystal.
"What's that?"
"You've never seen one before?"
"No," Clodagh said, watching him closer.
"It's a seed crystal. It absorbs and stores the fertile parts of my seed so that I cannot get you pregnant. They're fairly common in mage communities, and cities with them."
"I can't believe you're one of them. You're too considerate."
"Them?"
"The wolves that run this compound by night. Now please get it over with."
She spread her legs and parted the lips of her womanhood with her fingers. Caimbeul fitted the crystal inside her, gently, yet firmly against the mouth of her cervix while working the bump of her clit with his huge thumb.
"Just stick it in," Clodagh moaned unhappily. "Don't play with me."
Caimbeul had never met a slut as distressed to be on her back as Clodagh. Pandeena had always been right when she called him a lecher yet he had never felt filthier in his life than when he once more stretched out on top of Clodagh, and pushed his sword into her sheath. Clodagh's vagina was small and tight and barely able to take him in. He moved slowly and cautiously inside her, worried that he might tear her. He humped without lifting his weight from her so that as much of his body was touching hers at all times as possible. His Readers gift spread through her delicately to match his thrusts. He found her pregnancy. She appeared to be about two months along. It had to have happened around the time that the previous
lawgiver vanished. The same psychic scarring was present in her womb. This was another child of a violent rape. He found something odd, however, about the genetics: they were blurred. He had no way to tell if the fetus was lycan or not.
His milk spilled into her, and he rolled off, preparing to break the link, as he drew the crystal from her body.
Clodagh's eyes widened. "It's you! It's you. You've finally come for me." Then she doubled up, clutching at her head. "Get out of here, Padruig."
Caimbeul fled, snatching up his robe, and walked across the yard in the direction of a human's sheeling. When he reached it and lifted his hand to knock, it hit him: he had not told Clodagh his name.
He repeated his actions with the human, Ethne, and found that her child was lycan. He wondered how many more of the women were pregnant as he walked wearily home, feeling every bit the old lecher that Pandeena so readily accused him of being. They had to do something without tipping their hands off to Malthus.
When he returned home, Caimbeul found the lights on in the Lawgiver House and went in cautiously, wearing his proper form. Pandeena sat on his sofa, drinking his whiskey and staring into the flames of the fireplace.
"What's wrong, Pandeena?"
She lifted her face to his and he saw a distant flame in her gaze. "The wedding arch has been taken down. The myn at the taverns are all toasting and celebrating Malthus' potency." Her shoulders slumped. "I knew I knew I knew this was going to happen. I knew it. But I never dreamed it would be so soon."
"This complicates matters." Caimbeul had wanted to tell her about his discovery, but now he held back. "You're still certain that he's the Serpent? A sa'necari of his years should not have been able to." Caimbeul searched for a proper word, not wanting to offend Pandeena, and still feeling dirty from what he had done. "A sa'necari who was clearly approaching forty, should be sterile, or nearly so."
"It confounds me," Pandeena said. "Where have you been so late?"
"Investigating a few things."
"What?"
"I'm not ready to talk about them. Can you get me a list of the houses and sheelings on the compound? And the names of all the residents and those who work there?"
Janrae Frank - [Lycan Blood 02] - Fireborn Law Page 25