Wolf Tide

by Catherine Fox

  Her hands were scabbed with blood, like she was already a murderer. Blood everywhere. Too much blood. A smear on the parchment. She wrote her uncle’s name and direction over the stain. Added ‘urgent’. Underlined it. There. She put the letter in her pocket. Later I’ll be sure to find you, she thought. I won’t remember what you contain, but I will send you.

  Loxi stirred and whimpered in his sleep. The Fairy lay motionless, his fire all ashes. Anabara reeled to the pantry and fetched a jar of honey. She knelt beside him. One last moment to reconsider. The wind racketed down the street. It shook the houses, snatched slates off roofs. Knock-a-door, knock-a-door, Wolf Tide’s come! Where would this act lead? But you could never know for sure where any act would lead. You could only ever do the next thing. The act of kindness that lay to hand. And trust it was the right thing. Please let it be the right thing.

  She slid her arm under his neck and raised his head. It made her flinch, although she’d been expecting it, that sensation of lifting an empty husk. His mouth was smeared with Loxi’s blood. It gaped open. The fangs glistened red. She picked up the spoon and dipped it in the honey. Saw the slow amber drip down on to his tongue. A memory of the village: feeding baby cousins. Cradling them. She was appalled by a rush of tenderness for this thing in her arms. Then the haze over his eyes melted like frost on a sunny window. He reared up, like last time. Seized the spoon, devoured the honey. Set the jar aside.

  Then he turned his gaze on her. And smiled.

  Oh! What was happening? New shoes! My birthday! Waking gloomy, then remembering, Yay—holidays! Everything was fresh baked honeycakes and larks singing over the salt flats, and flying, flying up into an endless summer sky.

  ‘See?’ he said. ‘All is well. Your cousin lives. I tell you again: you need have no fear of me.’

  Yet there was something. Something terrible. Her mind groped towards it. She tried to speak but no sound came.

  ‘Ah yes, forgive me.’ He stretched out a finger towards her and she felt the charm click off her tongue. ‘You were saying?’

  Again, a memory—half a memory—of terror. And fire! ‘Oh God, you’re a…’ But what was he? ‘Paran, you mustn’t do it.’

  ‘Do what?’

  It was gone. She stared at him. Looked round the room. Loxi, sleeping on her hearth under a blanket. That’s right, he’d been beaten up. Blood everywhere. ‘What happened?’ she asked. ‘Wait, you healed him! But he was… wasn’t he dead?’

  ‘Maybe his injuries weren’t as grave as you feared,’ suggested the Fairy. ‘Head wounds bleed freely. As to the rest, don’t worry—there’ll be no scars. We Fairy artisans are all skilled in leech-craft and herb-lore. What is an artisan, after all, but a maker and mender?’

  She frowned. ‘But I thought… I’m confused.’

  ‘The shock, no doubt.’

  ‘Yes, the shock. Thank you for what you did.’ She looked again at her sleeping cousin. ‘Oh, Loxi. I warned him they’d beat him up. But I can’t believe they’d… mutilate him like that.’ She choked on a sob. ‘You’re sure there’ll be no scars?’

  ‘No scars. But this isn’t Gull work. Would a Gull use Commons? It’s a decoy. Did your cousin talk to the Guard?’ She nodded. ‘Ah, then I fear that someone in the Guard has betrayed him to the rivermen.’

  ‘What? But who’s talked? Butros told him to report only to Mooby!’ Not Carraman. The Guard. Then she saw why she’d been desperate to believe it was Carraman—because otherwise it had to be someone she knew. Knew and liked. At this, she was stepping into nothingness. Stomach in free fall. ‘No! Is it Mooby? Is Mooby the traitor?’

  ‘No. She passed my door charm.’

  ‘Then who did he talk to, the idiot?’

  ‘I don’t know. But this was a punishment beating. And a warning to you. That’s why they dumped him here.’ He reached out and stroked the hair back from Loxi’s brow. The intricate Gull tattoo was bleared by blood. He murmured in Fairy. My poor something. Anabara felt a squirm of revulsion. The Fairy sensed it. Withdrew his hand.

  Quickly she asked, ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘I surmise it. Some of it I saw, in the last remnant of his thought. I saw him enticed into an alley and set upon. His attackers were three old crew mates.’ He hissed. ‘I recognised their faces, oh yes.’

  ‘Then they’re here in Larridy already!’ Fear shuddered through her. ‘Is Golar here too?’

  ‘That remains to be seen.’ He stared at her, blank-faced as ever. ‘I imagine by now your cousin’s attackers are drunk in some tavern. They will be easy enough to find. I won’t “go about killing people”. You don’t favour that, I know. But perhaps if you are agreeable, I might select one of the three, and coax him to confide in me?’

  ‘Coax—? No! Don’t tell me!’ He waited. ‘Look, couldn’t you just read his mind and find out that way?’

  ‘I could, of course. But where’s the pleasure in that?’ He stood. ‘Come. We need to clean the place up. I’ll fetch water.’

  Loxi was sleeping near the fire on her reclining couch. They had bathed him and made him comfortable. She grieved for his hair, a warrior’s pride and joy. But that was ridiculous. He was alive, for God’s sake! What was a bad haircut? It would grow back. She should be singing hymns of gratitude. So why did spasms of dread keep clutching her stomach?

  I’m forgetting something, she thought as she mopped the last patch of floor. I’m forgetting something really important. It was like going upstairs and standing there thinking, what have I come up here for? It was definitely something to do with Paran. Was there something she was supposed to warn him about? She leant on the mop and racked her brains. The slaves in the library? Golar? Or Butros and his vengeful plans to get the truth? Maybe that was it.

  ‘My counsel wants to see you again,’ she said. ‘He’s pretty pissed off. Look, I shouldn’t tell you this, but he’s going to hire some nasty ass mercenaries and find out—’

  ‘Stop. I know all this. Your thoughts chirp like a tree full of crickets. Spare me the chore of listening twice.’

  ‘Huh.’ She glared at him. ‘If you’re so clever, maybe you can tell me what I’ve forgotten. It’s scaring me. Like something bad’s going to happen and it’ll be my fault.’

  He was beside her in a heartbeat, staring deep into her eyes. After a moment he took the mop from her hands, ‘Leave this work, I’ll finish for you. You’ve had a lot to bear, these last days. And now, on top of everything, your cousin’s been attacked. Small wonder you’re scared. Why not stay by him tonight? You can keep an eye on him and nurse him if he wakes. Come, sit here beside him.’ She sank on to the couch. Her eyelids began to droop. ‘These are dark times. Though for all that, I think you’ll both sleep soundly.’

  ‘Whoa!’ She put up a hand. ‘Stop that right there, mister. Don’t fecking sleep-charm me.’

  ‘But sleep is a great healer.’ He tilted his head. ‘No? Don’t be afraid. You’ll be safe here while I’m gone. Nothing can enter here with ill intent, remember. I have deeds to do. Come, rest here by your cousin. Sleep well.’ She began to sway where she sat. ‘Enobar,’ he whispered. ‘You still love him?’

  She snapped awake. ‘What? Of course I do! Why?’

  ‘Oh, just checking. His folly led your cousin into danger. He got him drunk, then abandoned him for a pretty stranger. But you are inclined as ever to mercy, I dare say?’

  ‘Paran, don’t you dare lay a finger on him! Enobar counts as family! You can’t harm my family, remember?’ As she said this, the thing she couldn’t recall hovered again, just out of reach. What was it?

  He peered into her eyes again. Then he hissed. ‘Well, well. Clever!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You fear for your uncle, the Patriarch. You have a message for him. In your pocket.’

  ‘Really?’ She rummaged and pulled out a sealed letter. It was smeared with blood. Another surge of panic. ‘What? When did I write that?’

  ‘See here?’ He pointed to the underli
ned word. ‘It’s urgent. Why don’t you give it to me, and I will deal with it at once?’

  No, no! screamed a voice in her head. She hesitated. ‘Thanks, but I’ll deliver it myself.’

  ‘As you wish.’ He tilted his head again, placed a finger against his lips. ‘Curious. Your mind starts aside like a warped bow. There’s a kink of resistance in you, and it grows stronger all the time.’ He tapped the finger against his mouth. ‘You have no Fairy blood in your veins, I suppose?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous! Why do you ask that?’

  ‘No matter.’ He blew softly in her face. ‘Sleep now.’

  Oh, feck it. Here comes the velvet wave. The last thing she knew was the Fairy plucking the parchment from her slack fingers as she toppled over on to the couch beside Loxi.

  CHAPTER 18

  She was woken the following morning by a rapping at her door. Grey clouds scudded past her porthole window. The bossy knocking continued. I bet it’s Rodania, she thought. But what on earth’s brought her down here?

  Her next thought was: What the FECK? She was in bed with Loxi.

  ‘Anabara!’ Tap-tap-tap. ‘Are you in?’

  She lay frozen like gull chick who’s spotted a sea eagle overhead. Loxi?! Did we—? She peeped under the quilt. Naked! But no—she was dressed. She fell back with a moan of relief. Auntie Laitolo would not be banging their heads together and dragging them by their ears to the altar.

  Something had happened, though, hadn’t it? Why couldn’t she remember? Deep sigh. Paran again. He’d presumably charmed them halfway to Tara-doodle, then brought them both up here for reasons best known to himself. This was getting beyond a joke.

  She slid out from under her covers. Loxi looked pale and ill. He’d cut his hair off! With a breadknife, it looked like. Woo, was that boy drunk last night or what. Auntie was going to marmalise him. Memories flickered like a deck of ruffled cards. No time for that now. She hurried downstairs to let Rodania in.

  ‘Weren’t you awake?’ Her cousin bustled in with a bake-house bag. A waft of hot honeycake. ‘Honestly. It’s gone nine, Anabara. Some of us have—Oh dear Lord! Is that blood?’

  Anabara looked down at her clothes. ‘Oh God!’

  Back it all came. There was Loxi, bleeding on her hearth, Paran tending him. Herb-lore? Fairy artisans were skilled in leech-craft and herb-lore? No, that didn’t seem right. There were gaps in her memory, like pictures missing from a wall. She slumped into a chair.

  ‘Eat.’ A honeycake was put into her hand. ‘Now then,’ said Rodania after Anabara had finished. ‘Do you need a doctor? Where are you injured?’

  ‘It’s not my blood.’ She drank some hot chocolate. ‘Loxi was beaten up last night.’

  Rodania’s hand flew to her heart. ‘Is he all right? Where is he?’

  ‘Upstairs.’ She frowned. ‘He’s fine. Head wounds bleed freely. Maybe his injuries weren’t as bad as I feared?’

  ‘Thank God for that! Enobar was convinced some students had jumped him.’

  ‘Students? Why would—’

  ‘However, we made enquiries, and heard that a pair of Gull bruisers were searching the bars for him—which was even worse, as you can imagine! So Grandmama informed the Guard and sent to the Infirmary, but—Well, thank Pelago he wasn’t badly hurt.’

  ‘Yes, thank Pelago.’ But suddenly an image unfurled: Loxi, with bloody letters hacked on his chest. ‘No, it was bad! My God, he was half dead! Beaten up and… and mutilated. Not by Gulls, by old shipmates. And then… I think Paran healed him.’

  ‘Hmmph! How, exactly? Incantations? Did he have any high-tech paraphernalia? A paran, for example?’

  ‘Y—no.’ Something blinding white? ‘Not sure. He’s been messing with my memory.’

  ‘You do realise that’s extremely complex charmwork? To say nothing of illegal. Frankly, I don’t like the sound of this, Ana. What is he?’

  ‘No idea. Butros thinks he’s using a cloaking charm.’

  ‘What? That’s illegal too! It’s your duty to report him. Where is he now?’

  ‘Who knows. Off murdering Tressy boatmen? It’s his hobby. He likes to eat their tongues.’ She gave a bright smile. ‘I’ve got a confession to make: he was a slave till I freed him. I bought him on the market like a sack of potatoes.’

  ‘Ana, you’re raving.’ Rodania got up and edged towards the door. ‘I think I’d better send for a doctor.’

  ‘No, wait.’ Anabara pulled out the glass tablet and flourished it. ‘Look!’ That did the trick. Back across the room, like a cat after a bobbin. ‘Sit. I’ll explain what’s going on, then you can play with this little dwidget.’

  ‘Dwidget? That’s not some dwidget, you looby, it’s a psych-tab!’ She bounced up and down in her chair. ‘I’ve read scientific papers about them! How did you get it?’

  Anabara fended her off. ‘Uncle Téador gave it me.’

  ‘That’s so not fair!’ squeaked Rodania. ‘Why didn’t he give me one? I’m the scientist! Plus I’m six months older than you!’ Then she caught herself, recalled she was a grown up.

  Anabara told her tale. There was a long silence when she’d finished.

  ‘Slaves?’ whispered Rodania. ‘In our library?’ Tears gathered in her eyes. ‘And a Breaking Camp? No. Such things can’t still exist. Not in this day and age. They just can’t!’

  Anabara watched her cousin try to take it in. Everything she’d believed to be honorable, pure, noble—built on a lie. ‘I’m sorry, Rodi.’

  ‘No, you did the right thing. It can’t be hushed up. It mustn’t be.’ Rodania got out a hanky and pressed it to her eyes. She always had a hanky, never had to use her sleeve like Anabara.

  ‘But after this is over, you have to report that Fairy, Ana.’ Rodania tucked the handkerchief back into her cuff. ‘You simply can’t let him rampage about Larridy wielding perception charms! I know you meant well freeing him, but this is precisely why slaves have to be handed over to Border Control.’

  Time to play her ace: ‘Uncle Téador knew what I was planning, and he approved.’

  After a brief inner struggle, Rodania sniffed. ‘Fine. Well, I came down here to tell you I’ve got the override password for the Stacks. Totally redundant now, but you may as well still have it, I suppose.’ She handed Anabara a slip of parchment with a string of numbers and letters on it. Anabara pocketed it. ‘I had to dis-encrypt the security charm vault to access it.’

  ‘But that’s illegal!’ gasped Anabara. ‘I may have to report you.’

  ‘I know it’s illegal!’ Rodania clenched her teeth. ‘But you seemed to think it was important!’

  ‘Kidding.’ She gave her a hug. ‘Thank you. You’re a star.’

  Rodania nodded and jiggled in her chair like she needed to be excused. ‘Now can I look at the psych-tab? Please?’

  Anabara warned her of the dangers, then left her to it while she took some breakfast upstairs to Loxi. He was still asleep. His right hand rested on the quilt. Bruised knuckles. He’d tried to defend himself, then. Landed a couple of punishing punches. That was something his pride could cling on to.

  He woke when she sat on the bed edge. Gave her a sweet sleepy smile. Then he stretched and ran his hands through his hair. Felt the hacked off ends. Froze. She saw the truth drench him like a bucket of water. He pushed back the quilt in horror and squinted down at himself. Froze again.

  ‘No way!’ He rubbed his hand over his chest. Disbelief, panic. ‘But they held me down and cut me!’

  ‘I know. Babe, it’s all right. Paran fixed you, good as new.’ She patted his leg. ‘It’s going to be fine, eh. No scars. Here, I brought you breakfast.’

  But Loxi lay back with an arm over his eyes. She watched a tear trickle out. His lips moved. She leant close. ‘Didn’t catch that.’

  ‘But it’s still true, eh? I still am one,’ he sobbed. ‘It’s never going to be fine, Nan. Never.’

  Ah shit. SHIT. Aw, Loxi. No more kidding herself he was just the sensitive type, interested in Gale
n philosophy. She rocked him while he wept. Crushed his head against her chest. Ground her teeth. She could stomp up to heaven right now, like some whopping Gullmother, and smack God’s chops. What the FECK were you playing at, making him this way? You must have known he’d never fit in, never be happy. Why this pointless fecking waste of a life? She was crying too. She wiped her eyes. Well, I’m not standing for it.

  ‘Listen, you.’ She shook him. ‘We’re going to make it fine. You hear me?’ She gave him another shake. ‘Look at me.’

  He raised his head.

  ‘You’re still you, eh. You’re still a man.’ She raked his raggedy hair, pushed it out of his eyes. ‘And I still love you.’

  He nodded, but his face twisted in grief. ‘Thanks, Nan.’

  ‘At least it wasn’t our own folks who beat up on you.’

  ‘Yeah. This time.’

  ‘There won’t be a next time. Not if you get yourself into that combat room and learn to fight,’ she cuffed him, ‘like I told you.’

  His gaze slid away from hers. ‘Yeah, I should probably do that, eh.’

  Now what was eating him? She decided not to press it. Things were bad enough as it was. ‘You went to the Guard, like Butros said?’ He nodded. ‘Someone’s stitched you up. Who did you talk to?’

  He hesitated. ‘Nan, don’t be mad, you. I know Butros said talk to Mooby, but she was busy, and I just wanted to get it over with, eh, so I found Charlie. I thought, he’s on Anti-Trafficking. Man, he’s one of us…’

  Her head jerked, like someone had slapped her. Charlie Rondo. Please no. Not a fellow Gull. Back, you stupid tears. But it had to be true. The message on the psych-tab. Not from Carraman—from Charlie. ‘Aw, Loxi, what have you done? It’s him. Charlie’s the traitor.’