Wolf's-own: Weregild

by Carole Cummings

  At least this time, Malick didn't seem to notice Jacin's internal twists. Malick held out his hand to Shig. “All right, let's have a look and see if we can decode it.” He shifted a quick look up at Samin. “You should probably find someplace comfortable. This'll likely take a while.” And then to Jacin. He held up the slate, waved it between them. “None of it's you. So, stop it."

  Jacin glared and sank back into the cushions of the chair.

  Damn it, how did he always know?

  * * * *

  Yori was getting a little sick of playing babysitter. She was getting really sick of cooling her heels while the others discussed... whatever they were discussing. And she was getting bloody sick and damned tired of playing messenger.

  "Another one?” She couldn't help that her tone was likely hostile and churlish. It didn't matter, anyway, because Ragi not only ignored it but topped it.

  "It can't wait,” he snapped, standing just below the last step on the attic stairs, not quite daring to broach the attic itself. All the staff and all the help had been threatened with immediate expulsion from the Girou and possible death—depending on Malick's mood—should they trespass, and Ragi was keeping to the letter of the warning, grudgingly, if not entirely the spirit. “I need to see him now."

  Well, at least it was a little excitement to break up what was otherwise a ridiculously monotonous morning. Not that Yori minded being “stuck” with Joori—even though he'd been annoyingly antsy and short-tempered—but she did sort of mind being “stuck” with Morin and Caidi, because their presence rather ruled out doing anything good to pass the time. They'd played cards—Suns and Moons because it was the only game Caidi could win once in a while—until they couldn't stand to look at them anymore, and then watched the rain until it stopped. In the lull, Morin and Joori had filled the silence by snarking at each other until Yori was ready to bash their heads together, and then did it some more until she actually threatened it. They'd been reduced to nursery songs before Ragi came along, so Yori had to concede that his annoying presence was at least distracting.

  Yori's mouth twisted, and she rolled her eyes. “What d'you need Mal for, anyway?” she wanted to know. “He's got nothing to do with the bloody kitchens. Go bother Lex or Umeia."

  "I don't need Lex or Umeia,” Ragi said, anger on his sour face as always, but there was a strange something else underneath it that, if Yori didn't know better, she'd have pegged as anxiety. What the hell?

  "Is the kitchen actually on fire?” Yori asked sarcastically.

  Ragi's mouth set tight, and his eyes narrowed. “I need Malick,” he bit out. “Now."

  Yori's mouth tightened too. Ragi was so not the boss of her. “Well, you'll just have to write him another note, because he's not to be disturbed."

  Ragi was not a huge man—tall, surely, and sinewy, no wider than Malick, really—but he seemed to expand right in front of Yori as his expression shut down into blank determination, and he braved the last step, took Yori by the arms, lifted her off her feet, and set her to the side. Yori was so stunned she almost didn't gather her wits before he'd started down the hall. Did the man not understand he was imperiously stomping his way right into the middle of a den of assassins?

  Then again, no, Yori supposed he didn't.

  "Hey!” she snapped, her pace a fast trot as she tried to catch up with Ragi's longer stride. “Hey! You can't—"

  "Malick!"

  A bellow, deep and clear, and echoing down the hallway at a tooth-jarring volume. Yori only just got her hand latched onto Ragi's sleeve before he snatched his arm away and opened the first door he came to: Malick's. “Malick!"

  Bloody hell, if he was going to try going door to door, and if she didn't stop him, he was going to end up seeing Joori and the children, and she couldn't allow that. Damn it all, Joori probably had his ear plastered to the other side of the door, and would end up with a concussion if Ragi threw that one open like he'd just done Malick's. Not for the first time, Yori rued the fact that her weapon of choice wasn't something she could handily tote around in a sheath at her belt or tuck neatly into a boot.

  "Malick!"

  "Ragi, you can't do this!” Yori warned. “You're not even supposed to be up here, Mal's going to kill you if you don't—"

  "Malick!"

  Yori was just darting around Ragi, trying to get between him and the next door, which happened to be hers and Shig's, when Fen's door swung open across the hall, and Malick slammed through it, knife in hand and murder on his face. “What the fuck is—?” He stopped dead when he saw who it was, brow twisting. “Ragi. What are—?"

  "No time,” Ragi cut in, like he hadn't just barged in where he didn't belong and was not barking orders like he had the right. “We have to go."

  Malick was shaking his head, too obviously annoyed, but Yori was surprised to see no real anger. “We nothing,” he told Ragi. “I'm busy. Tell Hus—” Malick darted a look at Yori and pursed his mouth. “Tell your boss that it'll have to wait."

  "It can't,” Ragi snapped back. “Didn't you get my note?"

  Yori bristled when he looked at her accusingly, but she didn't have time to retort.

  "I got it,” Malick answered. His teeth were clenching, and his eyes were taking on that cool look they got sometimes when he was trying to decide which would be the easiest way to kill a person. “He's your boss, not mine. I told you, I'm busy.” With a narrowing of his eyes, he tucked the knife back into its sheath, then opened Fen's door behind him and turned to go back inside. “I'll come when I—"

  "Xari says the cards have changed,” Ragi said. Oddly, it sounded to Yori like it had an edge of desperation beneath it.

  Maybe it did, because it stopped Malick, made him snap his glance back to Ragi over his shoulder, gaze narrow and burning a little about the edges. “Which cards?” he asked, even but deadly quiet.

  Ragi held his gnarled hands palms-up in front of him, a strange twist of helplessness in the gesture. “All of them."

  Malick stared at him for far too long, like he could look right through him to bone, then turned an intense look on Yori. “Where's Umeia?"

  It was all Yori could do not to take a flinching step backward. She shook her head. “I don't know."

  Yori hadn't seen Umeia since before Malick had told her they'd be taking Joori and the others to Heldesan tomorrow. She'd tried—had herself a look about the Girou last night, sent three messages through Lex, and if Umeia had been in her rooms either of the times Yori had knocked on her door, she hadn't chosen to answer.

  Yori hated it. Umeia and Malick had obviously had a row, but it wasn't like they hadn't ever had one before, and Umeia had never stayed away from them then. It had only been a couple of days, but Yori missed Umeia, and the whole thing rather worried her.

  Malick was still looking at her, his expression perhaps not quite as gritty as it had been a moment ago, a little softer but by no means soft, then he turned his glance to Ragi. “Go. I'll follow shortly."

  Ragi shook his head, his jaw set tight. “He said—"

  "It's the best answer you're going to get,” Malick snapped. “Give me a fucking minute, will you? Tell him I'll be there within the hour."

  Ragi stared, obviously having some internal debate with himself, before he growled with a grudging nod. “Go to Xari's,” he grumbled. He turned a dour look on Yori then back to Malick. “And go veiled.” His usual scowl set firmly back in place, Ragi turned and left, his steps heavy as he made his way down the stairs.

  Malick glared at the stairs for a long moment, breathing heavily, too obviously very angry, but it didn't seem to be directed at Ragi. Clenching his teeth on a throttled growl, Malick took a long breath, muttered, “Shit,” under his breath, then turned to Yori. He glanced down at her feet and barked, “Go get some shoes on. You're coming with me."

  Yori barely had time to gape at Malick before Shig was poking her head out Fen's door. She lifted her eyebrows at Yori for a second, but only gave her a small smile before tuggi
ng at Malick's sleeve. “Mal?"

  Malick was staring down the stairwell again, distracted, but his fists were curling and uncurling at his sides, and he still hadn't unclenched his jaw. “She has to be told sometime, Shig,” he said quietly. “Everyone's got decisions to make and sides to choose.” He shook his head then turned around to look at Shig. “Do you know what's going on with Umeia?"

  Oddly, Shig couldn't seem to hold Malick's stare. She shot another glance at Yori then pointed her gaze to the floor. “I've said my goodbyes,” was all she said.

  Yori frowned, but Malick narrowed his eyes. “You want to tell me what that means?"

  This time, Shig met Malick's gaze squarely. “What d'you think it means?"

  Malick seemed to know, because he growled again. He looked like he wanted to deck Shig, or maybe just whoever happened to be nearest. Instead, he just glared and turned back to Yori. “Shoes,” he snapped. “And get Little Lord Pain-in-the-ass and the others and bring them back here with you."

  Yori already had the door to her room open when she heard Malick mutter, presumably to Shig, “Fen's going to fucking kill me,” but Yori didn't stop or look back. If Malick's mood was anything to go by, speed was highly recommended. She'd seen Malick really pissed once or twice, but it was usually because some target hadn't died as quickly and easily as assumed, or he'd lost more at cards downstairs than he thought right and proper. He'd never been angry with her. She didn't want to find out what it felt like. She threw open her wardrobe and shoved her feet into stockings and boots, and herself into Shig's waxed duster. Her bow and quiver stood in the back corner, and her hand paused as she reached for them—only briefly—then she followed her instinct and shouldered them.

  Malick's order to collect Joori and the others turned out to be wasted breath. Joori was already hanging on Fen's doorjamb, leaning into the room, when Yori emerged back into the hallway. Caidi and Morin were still hovering at the door to their own room, eyes a little anxious, so Yori gave them both an easy smile and a little push down the hall. “What's going on?” Morin demanded as Yori planted them behind their brother outside Fen's door, laying a brief squeeze to Joori's shoulder as she pushed past him.

  "Nothing bad,” Yori assured the boy, though she had no idea, in truth, and the tableau she walked in on seemed to belie her assurance all too plainly.

  She was fairly surprised to see Fen standing, with only a hand braced to the back of the chair for support. He wasn't putting any weight on the bad leg, but he was still upright, which was fairly astonishing. Yori would've thought it would take at least a week or so, considering. Fen was glaring at Malick—nothing new—but Malick wasn't answering it with his usual smirk or leer; he was glaring right back.

  "I'm not doing this again,” Malick was saying. “If we can still do it tonight, we will, but I'm not—"

  "That's not what I was talking about, and you know it.” Fen's voice was venomous, filled with anxious anger. He shot a quick look over at the doorway, his mouth crimping a little at Joori's unabashed smirk—Yori had to roll her eyes—then he leaned in and lowered his voice. “I don't care about any bloody paradox, or any key. We agreed.” He reached out, took hold of Malick's sleeve, fuming and... bloody hell... why did he look so scared? “You promised."

  Malick dipped his head, sighed heavily. “I know. I was there. And I'll deal with this when I get back."

  "From where? What are you plotting now, and what—?"

  "I can't fucking do this now, Fen!” Loud and strung far too tight. It stopped everyone. Malick looked at no one but Fen, who met his gaze with as much fire in it as Yori had ever seen. Gently but firmly, Malick took hold of Fen's arms and pushed him back into the chair. Fen had no choice but to buckle his good leg and make the descent as pain-free as possible, growling all the way down. “This is important,” Malick told him, still leaning over Fen, keeping his hold on his arms. “I wouldn't be going, else, damn it, you think I want to go? Now?” With an annoyed grunt, he straightened, turned to Shig and Samin, and waved at Joori in the doorway. “Whatever else Umeia's doing, she's still veiling them, and all of you. But watch. No one is to be left alone."

  Odd. It sounded like Malick was warning them against trouble here at the Girou, which was... ridiculous. Obviously. And odder still, it sounded like he was warning them against Umeia.

  Malick turned back to Fen, hands out, palms-up. Yori was sure she'd never seen him so close to begging before. “I'm not taking it back, all right? I swear. Just... give me ‘til I get back, and we'll figure it out. Please."

  Fen's scowl was fierce as he waved angrily at his leg. “I haven't much choice, have I?” he snapped.

  "The only thing that's gone halfway right today,” Malick muttered irritably then turned to Yori. “Let's go."

  Yori jumped a little, shot her glance to Shig with a lift of her eyebrows, asking. Shig only gave her an unhappy smile and a shrug, but she nodded in reassurance. Yori breathed a tiny bit easier. Her normally calm and pleasant life seemed to be erupting into doubt and chaos with every passing moment, but Shig knew things, and that nod told Yori that it would work out in the end.

  She let Malick take her arm and all but shove her through the door, but stopped when Joori stepped back a little, all smirks gone now. His hand came up but didn't latch on, too obviously wanting to reach out and stop her, but resisting the urge. Yori peered up at Malick, quirking an eyebrow. Malick only rolled his eyes, let go of her arm, and pushed past her.

  "I'm going to get my coat,” he grumbled. “You've got thirty seconds."

  Yori didn't wait for him to stomp across the hall and disappear into his room before she reached out for Joori's hand and clamped onto it.

  "What's going on?” Joori asked, anxious and trying not to be scared, real caring in his gray gaze.

  Yori could only shake her head. “I don't know. But it appears I'm about to find out."

  And about bloody time too. She hadn't realized exactly how much had been going on just beneath her sight until now, and it wasn't like she could blame anyone else for it—she'd been smitten and enjoying herself, and letting everyone else pick up the slack. If she'd demanded answers the moment she'd realized she didn't have them all, they would have stopped and given them to her, but she hadn't. For the first time in her life, she'd had a real lover—not someone who used her body because they could, and not someone she'd paid to be nice to her for an evening and pretend she mattered. Joori liked her, wanted to be with her, and it seemed like it had made her brain go a little wobbly.

  No more.

  Yori straightened when Malick slammed back out of his room, stalked past her toward the stairs, and gave her a brusque wave over his shoulder without looking back. He grunted something that sounded like, “Come on,” and kept going.

  Yori gave Joori a reassuring smile, squeezed his hand tight before letting it go, then took off after Malick. “I'll see you when I get back,” she told Joori. “Don't fight with Shig while I'm gone!"

  "Be careful!” Joori called, just as Yori's foot hit the second step on the stairs.

  She paused, then turned around to give him a grin. She'd heard it hundreds of times from Shig, from Malick, from Samin, from Umeia, but from Joori... it just sounded different. Made affection bloom in her belly and warm her through. “Yes, seyh,” she told him, thumping her fist over her breastbone, then she took off again, taking the steps two at a time to catch up with Malick.

  She had no idea whatsoever where they were going, nor what they were going to be doing once they got there, but she was with Malick, and Malick would make sure everything turned out all right. He always had. Yori leapt the last three steps down to the third-floor hallway, pushing past a few of Umeia's lads and ladies loitering outside their doors. She gave Umeia's door a brief glance as she passed it then quickened her pace and trotted after Malick.

  "All right,” Malick said as she caught up to him, and they started down the stairs to the second floor. “Let's get you up to speed on what's been goin
g on."

  * * * *

  Joori only watched with a tight set to his jaw as Jacin hobbled from the chair over to the clothespress, because Joori had tried to help before, when Jacin had moved from the bed to the chair, and Jacin hadn't let him. “Hasn't anyone even thought to get you a crutch or something?” Joori asked with a pointed look at Shig, who merely looked back at him with a blithe little smile and no comment whatsoever. Samin turned and frowned at him, surprised and not happy about it, like he hadn't thought of a crutch and was annoyed with himself that he hadn't.

  Jacin merely shrugged as he hitched up against the clothespress, breathing heavier than he apparently wanted to show, face set into stony lines, and a light scrim of sweat on his brow. “They don't want me up yet,” he said. “And I don't need a crutch."

  Samin snorted a querulous little grunt, but said nothing.

  A strange man, Samin. Big and blocky, and yet still strangely approachable. He looked like he could either pick you up and snap you in half or sling a thick arm over your shoulders and grin his jackal's grin, with equal ease. Predator or protector, and he slid between the two without so much as a hitch in demeanor. Edgy and on watch now, but he'd quietly and casually been helping a resentful and embarrassed Jacin into a pair of trousers when Joori had herded Morin and Caidi through the door, sliding the fabric up over the heavy bandages with a matter-of-fact gentleness that somehow didn't seem out of place. And the way he doted on Caidi was just... cute.

  Joori shook his head. Had he really just put “Samin” and “cute” together in the same thought?