When they arrived, they found Sha at her desk, transcribing her notes. Do you need something?"
"Kynyr. Is he around?"
"He's talking to Vayle and Robert. She pointed down the aisle and went back to work.
Vayle Stewart sat with a bed table across his lap and a checkerboard. He had taken a bolt in the shoulder and another in the thigh the day of Belgair's purge. Afterward, Belgair's chastisemon had worked him over almost as thoroughly as he had Finn. Vayle was a cautious mon who had broken his custom and done a couple of incautious things out of loyalty to Kynyr. One of them had been telling Claw about Cooley catching Malthus with Larena. The other had been making it clear whose side he was on. He had craggy-features, a wary slant to his eyes, and a tight-lipped edge to his mouth that appeared to be trapped between a sneer and a grimace. The look was habit more than the present situation, which was losing to Robert Morcar sitting in the chair beside the bed.
A black lycan, Robert Morcar had light olive skin and raven hair. His blocky build and big bones, despite being only five eight in height, gave him a solid look. Five of Belgair's guardsmyn had beaten him into submission after he managed to kill one of them. Robert had tried to reach Claw and get his chieftain out of the manor. He had gotten within three doors of the Blue Room before they overtook him. The chieftain had been sitting in the doorway, watching what happened. Robert would never forget the look of fear and startlement in his late chieftain's eyes seeing Malthus and the others overtake him. Despite Kynyr telling Robert over and over that he should not blame himself for Claw's death later that night, Robert could not let it go.
Kynyr sat on the near side of Robert in his wheel-chair, observing the game with a pensive look that suggested to Finn that the three myn had been discussing that night again. It seemed like they were all still trying to piece the events together, asking themselves what they did wrong.
"Hey, Kynyr! Ugly cubs have more fun."
Kynyr's good looks had led his six sisters to treat him like a pretty toy that was never supposed to get dirty. As a result it seemed his homely spiritbrother got to go fishing far more often than Kynyr did growing up.
"What's up?"
"Darcy's having a bitches night out with Thunder and a couple of new friends from the manor. So I was thinking about how I promised you a race as soon as I could sit up proper and get me one of these things."
"This I must see. A spark of humor touched Vayle's worn face.
"The halls are crowded. Kynyr started to refuse, and then noticed the way that both Vayle and Robert perked up.
"There must be somewhere in this place with a straightaway?"
"Yeah, Vayle. Let me think a minute. Kynyr's brow creased. There's a hallway just off the West wing that isn't seeing much use yet..."
"So? Let's do it."
Phoebe appeared. Quite a gathering you have here, Brubs. What's up?"
"Finn and I are going to have a race. Kynyr did not care for the sudden glint in her eyes. Vayle and Robert are going to watch."
"In that case, Brubs, there are a lot of extra chairs on wheels out front."
Kynyr's eyes narrowed in suspicion. What are you up to, Phoebe?"
"Nothing. It would just be an awful lot of standing and them wounded and such. She put on her nicest smile, which made Kynyr all the more suspicious.
Vayle glanced at Robert. I have no objection, if you don't?"
"So long as someone pretty pushes them? Robert chuckled.
Phoebe favored Robert with a disarmingly sweet smile. I am certain that Leeny and Mary will want to help."
Kynyr thought that his sisters were taking far too much delight in the chairs. Maybe this isn't such a good idea...."
Phoebe wrinkled her nose at him playfully, and dashed out of the room.
"Don't you dare change your mind, Kynyr, Russa warned him.
Vayle and Robert laughed as a dubious look passed between Finn and Kynyr.
Phoebe soon returned with Leeny and Mary to push Vayle and Robert.
On the far side of the manor there was a dusty corridor where most of the rooms were currently being used for storage. The few tables scattered along the length of the hallway were soon moved into a room. With the corridor cleared for the race, Kynyr let the brake off and started. He had not gotten far when Russa seized the handles of his chair and took off at a run. Phoebe squealed, grabbed Finn, and raced after her. They careened along, bumping them together heedless of the myn's protests.
Leeny suddenly shrieked charge and snatched the handles of Vayle's chair.
Vayle swallowed a curse and gripped the arms so tight that his knuckles whitened. What are you doing?"
Mary shrugged and went racing off with Robert.
Cries of No, Stop, Wait, and Watch out for that wall, soon echoed through the corridor.
Kynyr and Finn stopped hollering first and simply held on tight. Vayle and Robert continued to shout until they ran out of breath. It was not until Russa managed to bump Kynyr into Vayle and overturn both chairs, spilling the myn onto the floor, that the mad dashing about ceased.
"That's why you call them the Dreaded Horde? Vayle asked ruefully, as Leeny uprighted his chair and Phoebe helped him back into it.
"Ayup, Finn and Kynyr chorused.
* * * *
Darcy had not been to the Difficult Horse since Hereward sold it to Juniperarrow and Starsilent. The two Fae had kept the name and the sign that featured a horse sitting on its rump while a mon tugged the reins before it, but otherwise the place had changed a lot since the first time that Finn brought her there. The tavern sat across from the town common on Main Street. The interior was warm and brightly lit, and pleasant compared to the snowy cold outside. Barrels with spigots jutting from them lined the rear wall behind a polished bar of walnut heartwood. Sturdy chairs circled the round tables placed throughout.
The main change had been the stage constructed on the far side. Juniperarrow had torn out the wall between the common room and a storage area to build it. A wintering minstrel had been traded a place to stay, meals, and tips to perform each night until the spring melt would allow him to move on. That night he sang a ballad about the Lycan Rebellion of 997 filled with the deeds of Todd Sinclair, Tarrant Redhand, and other heroes. Darcy grinned into her glass of whiskey, certain that the minstrel was pandering to the audience by reminding them that they had the last surviving hero of that conflict living amongst them.
Jennifer Sherbourne lowered her eyes, flicked a strand of saffron hair behind her pointed ears, and swirled her glass of dark violet wine. A spiritworker, Jenny served as Stone's Captain of Mages, commanding the magic workers as well as the swan mays and their gryphon units. She had known Stoneriver for nearly a century, and for a time they had been lovers. But Jenny had wanted marriage and childrenthings that Stoneriver could not give her. The romance had died, but the friendship remained strong.
"So what do you do, Darcy?"
"I was general to MacLachlan, but now I'm Todd's second. Darcy drained a glass of whiskey.
"She's a newlywed. StealsThunder wiggled her eyebrows. The tiny snowdrop of a Faehair, eyebrows, and eyes like icesat at Darcy's right hand across from Regina Devlin.
"I married Finn MacIver, Kynyr's spiritbrother."
"No wonder you're so protective of the family. Regina glanced over the edge of her glass and whispered. Here comes trouble. Clennan's bodyguards. Reist doesn't like them. Neither do I."
Faerwald and Lairgan sauntered across the room and flanked Darcy. Lairgan bumped her shoulder. Thane Clennan did not appreciate having an axe waved in his face."
The three females froze, eyeing the duelists. Darcy ignored them, drained her glass, and refilled it.
Faerwald leaned in on the other side. He suggested that you needed a spanking."
"Ayup. Sometimes I do. However, neither of you are dog enough to do it."
Darcy drained her second glass and reached for the bottle as if to pour again. Instead, she shoved her chair backwards and
spilled herself on the floor with the bottle in hand. The maneuver surprised them. Darcy slammed the bottle down on Faerwald's instep, causing him to jump back with a cry of pain. She shifted form as she moved, brought the bottle up between Lairgan's legs hard enough to double him over, and then broke it over his head.
Lairgan went down on his arse hard, clutching at his abused balls, whiskey running down his face.
Regina leaped to her feet as Faerwald realized they had a hellcat on their hands and reached for his sword. She smashed a chair across his back, staggering him.
StealsThunder jumped onto the table and somersaulted over Faerwald. Snatching out her fan, she grabbed hold of his trousers, and jerked them down around his ankles. Peekaboo!"
The proprietors, Juniperarrow and Starsilent, charged across the room to break it up. They tossed the pair of surprised duelists out in short order.
"Did you see the looks on their faces? Regina chuckled.
"Todd says if my sword skills were as good as my brawling, I'd be better than Finn. Darcy shrugged. I grew up brawling with my male cousins."
Only Jenny remained thoughtful as the others shared jubilant toasts to their victory. You got lucky. Just because a woman carries a weapon, it does not mean she knows how to use it."
Jenny's tone sobered them. Darcy inclined her head, listening in a manner new to her. What do you mean?"
"Had they known we could actually fight, they would have threatened Darcy with something more than a spanking. They approached us as bitches, rather than fighters."
"They will not do that again. StealsThunder looked as considering as Jenny. How good are they?"
"Very. Reist and I watched Faerwald in a practice duel with Malthus. They're both blademasters. Regina's gaze searched the rafters. Reist is good with his blades, but he said wouldn't want to fight them ... either of them."
* * * *
Faerwald and Lairgan sat on the boardwalk two doors down from the Difficult Horse sharing a rueful laugh. A full moon interrupted the velvet darkness of the midnight sky. Their breath made frosty little clouds in front of their faces.
"I wasn't expecting that. Lairgan grinned, rubbing his crotch. Should have. Bitches usually aim for the grapes. Jealousy, you know. His voice and expression went droll. Cause we've got them and they don't."
"I wonder what such an able brawler is like in bed? Does her husband have to tie her down first?"
"She probably ties him to the bedposts."
Faerwald sobered. Clennan wants her spanked, chastised, and in his bed."
"Not bloody likely."
"He's bored with Berneen. Faerwald stared into the night, thinking. They had been on a long roll, the dice of chance always landing in their favor; yet, Faerwald knew that sooner or later they get a bad throw. The debacle at Clan MacGregor had been one of those, and it had taken all of Faerwald's wits and skill to get them out of it. Having a patron as powerful as Clennan had kept them in both money and good times; getting away with all the hell they wanted to raise. They were running closer and closer to the edge all the time, which made it even more important to keep Clennan happy. He's even getting bored with watching us do Berneen. So the hellcat's caught his fancy."
"If wishes were horses."
"Clennan wants Darcy; Clennan gets Darcy."
"You really want to fight those Fae?"
Faerwald saw no need to answer that. They both knew that the closest Faerwald had ever come to dying was when he went up against a Fae armsmaster. We'll catch her somewhere else."
"What do you think? Try the Striped Dog next?"
"Nah. Belgair liked it. That's not a point in its favor."
Lairgan got a gleam in his eye and a turn of mischief to his lips. I heard a rumor..."
"Yes?"
"It could be just a rumor, mind you."
"Spill. Faerwald exhaled a breath of irritation. He hated it when Lairgan acted cagey.
"Malthus told me the humans over at that refugee camp will put out for free. They're hungry for dogs like us. Lairgan winked.
"Let's have a look."
They retrieved their horses and rode down the street. Main Street became Cheshire Road at the outskirts of town at a branch in the snow-gilded dirt path. Lairgan paused and considered before pointing at the right hand branch. That way."
A few minutes later, a half-finished gate appeared. Longhouses sprinkled the landscape, some built of stone, and the vast majority constructed from wood. A generous camp common spread out from a stone longhouse with a sturdy chimney. Evergreens dotted the common in little clusters and thickets. A few benches and tree rounds for sitting looked to have been recently swept clear of snow. Past the main house, stood a wealth of unused sheelings. Young rowdies moved through the shadowed places and knocked on doors, going to exaggerated lengths to not notice each other.
They tied their horses in a cluster of evergreens where the animals were unlikely to be seen. Faerwald moved into the long shadow thrown from a pine tree beneath the light of the full moon. His high spirits had returned during the ride. Grinning, he nudged Lairgan. Watch them trying to pretend it's a secret."
"Shall we pick a door?"
"Rather like a pot luck dinner. You can't tell if it's worth eating until you take the lid off and sample the contents."
"I suppose. Shall we do it anyways?"
They picked a house at random and sauntered into the moonlight heading for the door.
"You're not wanted here. Two young dogs stepped from the shadows beside a house.
They were townsmyn judging by their rough clothing, except that one of them carried a sword and the other a cudgel.
"All you foreigners are hogging the women, growled the taller of the two.
"We're hardly foreigners, are we, Faer?"
Faerwald shrugged. We're from Heatherford. That's hardly foreign."
"You know what I meant!"
"Actually I did. An impish grin perched upon Faerwald's lips with a twist of venom. He enjoyed baiting wet-tailed dogs who thought they were tough. Neither of them could have been more than eighteen-years-old. They were mere youths clinging to their unproven self-myths of invincibilityan attitude that irritated Faerwald, and he took great pleasure in destroying it.
Lairgan gave a sidewise nod at his friend and a wink. More of the young wolves came from the shadowsdozens of them. I'm afeared they've got a gang, Faer."
"You have a problem about sharing? Faerwald's pleasant smile lingered as his eyes hardened.
"They're ours. Get off the grounds, filthy pig-pizzles."
"Not bloody likely. As always, Faerwald called it, snapping his fingers in the dog's face. A bunch of wet-tailed dogs are in no position to trouble us."
"Oh we'll trouble you, alright. The youth swung his sword at Faerwald.
The duelist glided to the side, avoiding the swing. Drawing his saber and main gauche, he backhanded his sword across the youth's throat. The younger dog's eyes bulged as he staggered back, clutching vainly at the gushing wound, and sank to his knees.
Lairgan gave his wrists a twitch and two knives appeared in his hands. He placed one in the chest of a lycan with a cudgel to his right and the other into the belly of the one behind him as he spun.
Faerwald gutted the next to reach him, stalking forward, and forcing a path from the clumsy encirclement. Each blow killed or crippled.
Some of them appeared to have had a bit of training, but not enough to keep them alive. The attack faltered to a halt in minutes. The youths broke and fled. The brevity of the skirmish left Faerwald feeling dissatisfied until Lairgan's laughter and hooting provoked a smile from him. Lairgan retrieved his knives, cleaning them off, as they sauntered toward their horses nudging and slapping each other like children who had pulled a devastating prank. Mounting their horses, they rode away, leaving behind them twenty odd youths either dead or crippled.
"Amateurs, muttered Faerwald. Hardly the lark I was hoping for."
"Entertainment's hard to come by. Wolffgard's mo
re of a backwater town than I expected it to be. You think those that got away will turn us in?"
"No. For one thing, they attacked us. For another, what they were doing here was illegal."
Lairgan acknowledged his friend's answer with a nod. I've been thinking about that bitch. Since Clennan wants her undamaged, we could try catching her alone. Maybe drop a net over her."
"A net sounds fine, Lairgan. Roll her up in it and then beat her with a friendly weapon."
Lairgan started laughing and Faerwald soon joined in.
* * * *
Jocelyn huddled down in her chair, arms folded tight against her middle, in Sorcha's Solar seething. It was empty at that late hour. She had thrown a robe over her nightdress and gone there to brood after cleaning Vertram's enthusiasm from her loins. He had muttered Regina's name at the height of their passions. Jocelyn had pretended not to hear and then gotten away from him at her first opportunity. She resented his wandering eye.
Lillian joined her. What are you doing here so late?"
"Thinking. Jocelyn pursed her lips in annoyance. I do know how to do that."
"Thinking's not good for you. It will give you wrinkles."
"Then what are you doing here?"
"Fuming. Lillian made a moue. That Gateshead slut is so annoying. She and Merissa, and poor little woebegone Emma and her ugly little newborn are using the Rose Room instead of the Solar. She turned me away at the door and said I wasn't welcome. So I came here."
"Fletcher's cubs are always ugly. Jocelyn folded her arms with a glare. And what are they doing up so late?"
Lillian snickered. Regina went drinking in the taverns."
"So? Jocelyn's interest perked, anticipating something juicy.
"Without her husband."
"Slutting around is she?"
"Sounds it. She had that pointy-eared half-breed with her."
Jocelyn flashed Lillian an irritated glance when the door slowly opened and Lyncoln Wescot strolled in. The rumor was all over the manor that Sedley had brought his widowed son along in search of a wife for him.
"What do you want, Lyncoln? Jocelyn settled deeper into her chair.
"I was feeling restless. Bed's too empty at night with Terry gone. Come up to see the portraits. Lyncoln leered at her. Didn't expect to find the place full of pretty bitches at this hour."
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