Frank-SPrinces

by The Shadowed Princes [lit]

  Clennan toasted the imminent birth. To the rightful heirs."

  Vertram had insisted upon having a proper table set up in the room, sent for food from the kitchen, and sat gnawing on roasted goose leg. He waved the leg in acknowledgement of Clennan's toast, but did not reach for his tankard.

  Malthus stirred from his brooding and lifted his tankard of mead. To the rightful heirs."

  Then he sank back into his thoughts again. Clennan and Vertram had been doing their best to distract him from his worries, but could not quite manage it.

  "When I'm regent for your sons, there will always be a place for you in Red Wolf. Clennan took another sip from his tankard.

  "I'm grateful for your support, Clennan. And yours, Vertram. Malthus tried not to stare at Clennan's withered claw in its black glove. Stone must have battered Clennan horribly to cause that kind of crippling. Stone worries me ... the way he supports Kynyr."

  "Don't let it concern you. Vertram bit off another chunk of meat and talked around it. His time is coming."

  Malthus gaze wandered to Faerwald Davies standing by the window, watching another light snowfall descend over the yard. Lairgan Yates sat by the fire in the hearth, warming his hands. Clennan never went anywhere alone, and his most frequent companions were that pair. He found himself wondering if Yates was as good with his blades as Davies was. Lairgan Yates would have to be if that pair were going to take on Todd Sinclair. Without Todd and Stone, Kynyr would be nothing.

  "It was wrong of Claw to disinherit Merissa and her children."

  "They're your children also, Vertram pointed out. You have an investment there."

  Clennan snagged a sweet roll, his claw closing on it without bending his stiff fingers. The witan will reject Claw's will. Everyone knows he was in his dotage."

  The door swung open and Jocelyn fled into the room, shrieking. Stop it. Stop it."

  She rushed to Vertram and settled in the closest chair to him, eyes wide with fright.

  The door opened again and Lyncoln Wescot sauntered in. Ah, so this where you've all got off to. I was just asking your pretty bit about it, Vertram."

  "You have a peculiar effect upon bitches, Lyncoln, Vertram observed in a droll tone.

  "My late wife always said that. Lyncoln settled into a chair between Clennan and Vertram, grabbed an empty tankard, and filled it. Waiting for a birth must be thirsty work, seeing as you've got so much here. I never had the pleasure, you know. Terry was barren. At least, that's what the healers said. Lyncoln took a large swig of mead. That it was her and not me. You know what I mean? He winked at them. Won't know for sure until I get me another wife. A young, pretty one. I want a prettier one than the one you've got, Vertram. Her eyes are set too close together."

  "You're a nutter, Lyncoln Wescot. There's nothing wrong with my eyes."

  Vertram chuckled, earning him a glare from Jocelyn.

  "Tell him, Vertram. I've got pretty eyes."

  "They're pretty enough. Vertram waved the bone at her, having chewed off the last bit of meat. I wouldn't let Lyncoln's opinion get to you so much. Midlanders say the same thing about horses. Don't they, Lyncoln?"

  "We like our horses and our bitches with large clear eyes. Lyncoln grinned into his tankard. Not little beady eyes."

  Jocelyn let out another shriek. My eyes aren't beady."

  Clennan's gaze slid across the table in a frown. Leave her alone, Lyncoln. A Wescot will never marry into my family."

  "Wasn't looking to. It's a caber toss, you know."

  Clennan's frown deepened. What has tossing trees got to do with bitches?"

  "It doesn't. Lyncoln's eyes got a sudden canny gleam. The witan. It's a caber toss. The one who tosses their weight the farthest wins. You're sitting here, trying to toss your cabers, and it's nothing without the midlands votes. He gave them another wink, drained his tankard, and swaggered out.

  "He's a nutter. That's what he is. Jocelyn's eyes followed Lyncoln through the door.

  "Shut up, Jocelyn, Clennan snarled. Find another word for him. I'm tired of hearing it."

  "But he is, she protested.

  "I'm beginning to think he isn't."

  The room went quiet again. Faerwald left the window, prowling the study like a restless lion. Malthus watched him from the corners of his eyes. Trying not to stare at him, he remembered their practice match, and how he would have lost to Faerwald if he had not cheated.

  Regina came to the study. You have two healthy lycan sons, Malthus. Merissa is asking for you, so you ought to go to her."

  "Regina, do you think my eyes are"

  "Beady? Yes. Regina turned on her heel and left.

  "Lyncoln told her to say that. I know he did."

  The males ignored Jocelyn, turning to Malthus with a hearty round of congratulations. Malthus excused himself and went to his suite. Apparently, his spells to conceal the true nature of his sons had worked even better than he expected. He congratulated himself as much upon that as on the birth of his sons.

  Merissa looked worn out, laying in bed with her newborns beside her. He kissed her cheek, opened the blankets that the midwife had wrapped them in, and stared.

  "No."

  His twin sons were fair-skinned, blue-eyed, with wisps of blond hair on their headsand their bodies were covered in a soft coat of what the lycans called babyfur. He touched them, Read them, and sucked in a disbelieving breath. They were lycan.

  All these months he had Read them in the womb and they were sa'necari. This was not possible.

  A ghostly laughter echoed through the room. Malthus head shot up and he shivered. Ghosts avoided sa'necari. They were souls that still walked the land; while the sa'necari shattered and devoured souls in their rites. He could not be hearing a ghost.

  The laughter came again.

  "Did you hear that?"

  Merissa gave him a puzzled frown. Hear what?"

  "Laughter."

  "I didn't hear anything."

  Then he remembered the disturbance in the ether when Aisha told him she had cursed him. Could she have cursed my sons out of their heritage?

  "This isn't happening. It isn't."

  Malthus retreated from the room and the laughter followed him.

  * * * *

  Faerwald Davies applied a small whetstone to his blades, whistling a tune he had heard at the Difficult Horse. The boring weeks of bodyguarding had ended that morning when Clennan finally let them off the leash to do their real jobs. For the next several days they would work their own hours, study their prey, and close in on it. Clennan had given them two assignments: snatch Darcy MacIver for a bedroom lark he hankered for; and kill Todd Sinclair.

  He fancied having a ride on that feisty little Missus MacIver, certain she would probably cuss him out the entire time he was getting his wagstaff wet. The thought tickled him. He guessed that Darcy must know every word in the book to call him. She went to the taverns a lot; too much for a decently married bitch.

  Testing the edge of his blades with his thumb, Faerwald decided that they were satisfactory, and slipped them back into their sheaths. He heard Lairgan laughing as he emerged from his bedroom buckling them on.

  Faerwald Davies and Lairgan Yates were a practical pair. Clennan paid them well and most of it was banked for their old age. Faerwald always sold their services to powerful myn who could shelter them from the wrath of the Bane Shepherds. Renegades from a battle-clan, they moved on whenever the Shepherds came nosing too heavily along their trail. Faerwald had a knack for disappearing and emerging somewhere safe with a new patron. However, he had staked a lot on Clennan. When the thane became regent, they would be safe from the Shepherds.

  He heard Lairgan laughing again and poked his head into his friend's room. Lairgan sat in the middle of the floor with a heavy fishing net across his lap, braiding spellcord through it from a pile beside him.

  Faerwald sauntered into the room and toed the spellcord. Where'd you get all that?"

  "The manor's armory. I can't wait t
o see the look on that bitch's face when I drop this over her."

  Faerwald snickered at the image it conjured in his mind, and remembered the brief humiliation he had endured when Thunder yanked his trousers down in the tavern. I'm going to pull her trousers off and flash the town. Carry her bare arsed all the way to the manor."

  "The trolleymog deserves it."

  The two of them completed the job and rolled the net up. Then they carried it out to the stable and saddled their horses.

  * * * *

  The day started bright and early for Darcy. Wolffgard seemed like a city to her; twice the size of any place she had ever been before, except for Hell's Widow in Waejontor. When her cousin, Fergus, led the punitive invasion of Hell's Widow last autumn, she had been impressed by the size of the place.

  For the first time in her life, Darcy had friends who weren't part of her extended family. That was another novel experience that she savored. She had plans to meet Regina and Jenny at the Difficult Horse in the afternoon, and decided to get in some shopping for solstice gifts ahead of that.

  Darcy strolled down Locust Street with a burlap sack of purchases swung over her shoulder. She had bought candy for the cubs at John Donegal's shop, scented creams for the bitches at Cahira's Potions and Notions, and new boots for Finn who would soon be getting out of the wheel-chair and be about on crutches. Finn's old boots had looked entirely too worn out for her taste. She expected him to laugh when he got them and make remarks about the fact that, while she was not the cubs and cookies type, she still managed to function with a wifely attitude.

  "Hello, Darcy."

  She turned and saw the duelist who had threatened Todd standing there. What do you want?"

  "A full serving of payback for that little incident a few days ago. Faerwald Davies leered at her.

  Without stopping to think, Darcy swung her burlap sack of purchases in his face.

  Faerwald swayed aside, grabbed the sack, and jerked her forward. Apologies can start with a kiss, I think."

  His lips covered hers, and Darcy punched him in the stomach.

  "Woof... Faerwald stepped backwards, gasping for air. His fist shot out and connected with Darcy's face, bloodying her nose.

  He eluded her responding jab, laughing between gasps.

  "What the hell are you laughing at? Darcy snarled.

  Lairgan Yates net sailed over her head. Startled, she pulled at it, trying to get it off, and only became tangled worse.

  Faerwald pinned her arms, dancing a bit as she tried to stomp on his feet. Lairgan slid a rope around her, binding her arms to her sides. Faerwald hoisted her over his shoulder, grabbed the top of her trousers, slashed the lacings, and jerked them down around her knees.

  "Payback is a three fingered whore. He slapped her buttocks. This spanking was overdue."

  "We've got some friendly weapons just itching for you. Lairgan chuckled.

  Darcy let out a shriek of rage and indignation. Stupid buggering bastards! You're cheating."

  Faerwald gave her another series of quick swats.

  "Put me down, you god-fecking cockwhores! Put me down!"

  "When we're ready."

  They headed for the alley where they had left their horses. A lycan stepped from the alley mouth before they could get there, unclipped a crossbow from his belt, and loaded it.

  Lairgan's eyes widened. He paused and swiveled about. Trouble, Faer. Lawgivers."

  Ossian O'Reilly moved to intercept them, his crossbow leveled at Lairgan who was closest to him. Put her down."

  "I don't appreciate having that pointed at me. Lairgan's smile never wavered as he stared past Faerwald at Ossian's two brothers coming up behind his friend with their claymores ready. He scratched his nose, tapping it twice in the process.

  Faerwald caught the signal, and turned to see Waid and Ultan standing there. He dumped Darcy into the muddy snow. Just a lark, Lawgiver. No harm done."

  "Attempted kidnapping with intent to commit rape is punishable by fifty lashes, Ossian stated.

  "It's just a lark. Thought she deserved a spanking for bottling Lairgan in the grapes."

  "I heard about that. I still say it looks like a kidnapping."

  Faerwald shrugged and held his hands out, palms up. We're just a pair of good old dogs, Lawgiver. Just ask Thane Clennan of Heatherford. He'll tell you we've never ever hurt a bitch in our lives."

  "No one is above the law. What're your names?"

  "I'm Faerwald Davies and that's my spiritbrother, Lairgan Yates. I'm captain of Thane Clennan's bodyguards. We're law-abiding folks."

  "I'll only give you one warning, Davies. I catch you doing something like this again, and I'll have you flogged."

  "Does that mean we can go, Lawgiver?"

  "Get out of here."

  The two myn from Heatherford sauntered away, laughing.

  Ossian relaxed the tension on the crossbow and hung it again from his belt. He drew his knife, knelt, and began cutting Darcy loose.

  Darcy fumed in silence. She should have known that Lairgan was about when she saw Faerwald. No one had ever bested her beforeunless she counted her endless childhood skirmishes with her cousin Fergus. Figuring that he was the one to beat, she had gone after him hammer and tongs, swinging her fists fast and hard. The outcome never changed, even when she faced off against him as an adult in a flurry of temper. Fergus knocked her down and sat on her, patiently suggesting that she cool off. She missed him.

  She amended that thought. Finn had beaten her repeatedly with practice swords. That and his easy-going manner had attracted her to Finn MacIver.

  And then there was Todd.

  A touch of rue twisted the edges of Darcy's mouth. She began to calm herself and assess what had happened to her, analyzing it as Todd and Finn had taught her.

  She felt a jerk on her trousers, started to spit out an imprecation, and saw it was just Waid. The blush of embarrassment on his quiet face disarmed her.

  "I figured you'd want to be covered up."

  "Thank you, Waid."

  * * * *

  Todd shook his head in disbelief as he watched Kynyr going through his forms. Sweat beaded on Kynyr's forehead. Arms up! Arms up, Todd barked at him. That's better."

  Kynyr adjusted his form. I hope so."

  Trevor stood with his shoulder leaned against the wall. I never expected it to work this fast when you told me about it."

  "How do you feel, Kynyr?"

  "Tired. Why? Kynyr glanced from the corner of his eyes at his grandfather.

  "Good. Trevor, knock him down."

  Kynyr's eyebrows shot toward his hairline. Wait, I'm not ready."

  Trevor bowed to the mat, stepped onto it and attacked with a left jab. Kynyr swayed away from it straight into the path of a right cross that sent him staggering backwards.

  "You're forgetting to widen your vision, Kynyr. Trevor, your shoulder twitched. You're getting into bad habits."

  "Yes, Dad."

  Kynyr swallowed.

  "Now, my children, let's start over. Best two out of three. Let's see who hits the mat first."

  As Kynyr kept refusing to take the offensive, Todd grew worried. Kynyr's body was back in perfect condition, but somehow Kynyr continued to think of himself as crippled and not give his all to the fight.

  "You're thinking too much, Kynyr. Todd realized that he had to provoke Kynyr to force him past that block. You've lost your nerve, Kynyr."

  Shock showed on Kynyr's face. Todd had never been ugly with him, just blunt and to the point.

  "Stop being a wuss, Kynyr!"

  As Todd continued to berate him, Kynyr grew angry and began to fight more seriously.

  Instead of swaying or dodging, Kynyr dropped into a low squat letting Trevor's punch go over his head, his hands went to the floor, and his leg shot out in a full sweep that took Trevor's feet out from under him.

  Todd exhaled heavily. He gave a quick bow to the mat, stepped onto it, and pulled Kynyr into a hug, pounding on his back. Now, on
e more round. And control it, Kynyr."

  Kynyr won the next round, but not as easily as he would have a few months ago. He was still being too cautious. Kynyr had lost his confidence, and Todd feared that if he did not get it back fast it could cost his grandson his life.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  AMBUSHED

  No matter how often the Maguires and the Sinclairs admonished Rory Scott to remain at the mansion and not go into Wolffgard alone, the ten-year-old cub continued to sneak into town. He had left Hamish behind to tell people that he was home somewhere so that they would not decide to search for him there.

  His widowed mother, Lynette Scott, had worked as a laundress, supporting herself and her two young sons, until trouble with Belgair Doherty cost her all her customers. Kady's generous heart went out to them and now his mother worked for the Maguires as a lady's maid.

  The day before winter solstice had arrived, and Rory had not managed to earn enough money to buy his mother a present. His only choice was a foraging expedition into town. Haired over and wrapped in a warm cloak, he sauntered down an alley between Locust and Main streets, digging into the trash behind the shops, filling his gathering sack with bottles, jugs, jars, and anything else that had resale value. In the past, Rory would have whistled contentedly as he foraged; however, a few months ago he had been attacked and nearly killed by a mon who was gilled up on White Fire. The experience had made him even more of a sneak than he had been before.

  Rory dipped into a crate of discards behind the Raging Lizard Inn and straightened at the sound of voices approaching. He ducked around the crate and squatted low out of sight. The two duelists, who had tried to snatch Darcy and threatened to kill Todd, led their horses around into the alley. Rory tensed, ready to run if they spotted him, and glad that he had hidden himself. They were always talking like they were nice fellows, and then they did mean things that scared the cub.

  "Todd rode out a few minutes ago. He'll be making a lot of stops, so we shouldn't have much trouble getting ahead of him. Faerwald Davies mounted his horse, a big sorrel gelding.