by J. C. Hendee
Kyne shuddered—“miss,” not “initiate.”
“I stay as well,” Corporal Lúcan said a little loudly. “This is now a matter for the Shyldfälches.”
Sykion frowned slightly but nodded once. Relations between the city guard and the guild had been strained since the time of murders, or maybe even before that. Amid such a horrible downfall, Kyne looked sidelong at the corporal in remembering something he had said last night.
Young female sages… and their wolves.
Wynn, Master Andraso, and Shade had been involved in the hunt for the murderer; in fact, if more rumors were true, those three had started the hunt. Obviously the corporal knew of Wynn and Shade, though by his comment in the alley, he didn’t know the difference between a wolf and… the pup.
People began filing out under Domin High-Tower’s gruff guidance. Kyne avoided looking at anyone, most especially Sirron. There were sharp glances from parents as they ushered Marten and Grim and Alshenísh’ìn out of the council chamber.
Kyne’s own father touched her lightly on the shoulder as he passed.
On a gentle push from Domin Ginjeriè, Kyne stepped in and heard the heavy oak doors thud closed behind her.
Premin Adlam, dressed in his sienna robe and larger than anyone present, flicked one big hand, and Domin Ginjeriè silently joined her immediate superior. Kyne was left standing alone before the high premin, but Sykion looked over to Corporal Lúcan.
“Has anything been learned of where the victim was first captured?”
It took a moment for Kyne to realize the high premin was asking about the pup.
The corporal shook his head. “Nothing, Premin. This Evakon Karlousk, if that is his real name, has said nothing about… the wolf, and likely never will.”
Though Kyne had never before heard that name, it had to be for the wolf-catcher. Corporal Lúcan then turned his gaze down on her.
“He will never bother you again, young miss,” the corporal assured. “That much is certain for crimes beyond trafficking in…” He seemed at a loss for an instant, and then, “… in wild beasts.”
That strange pause left Kyne wondering but not for long.
“As to you, young lady,” High Premin Sykion interrupted.
That pulled Kyne’s fearful attention, but after a long breath, the high premin was still silent.
“I… I will pack my things,” Kyne whispered, dropping her eyes. “And be gone… before… before the mid-morning bell.”
“And why would you do that?”
Kyne looked up to find the premin watching her intently. “I… when people know… everything… and you would have to tell—”
“How could I do that?” Premin Sykion interrupted again. “As far as anyone knows—or is to know—one initiate and her… accomplices… stole a mistreated wild animal. An animal that should not have been brought through this city to be sold.”
Kyne only stared.
“Even if,” Sykion went on, “how would I explain your dismissal without rousing more curiosity? After a rescue by the city guard, and public chatter to come from that, the less said of one little… wolf… the better. Especially for him.”
Kyne didn’t know what say, for there was not one thought left in her head for an instant. And then, what about Marten, Grim, and Floraile… or even Sirron?
“Certainly your methods lacked for good sense,” Sykion added, and then she turned her head for a sharp glance at Premin Adlam and Domin Ginjeriè. “Though we are partly to blame for that.”
“Kyne Erhtenwal,” Premin Jacque said suddenly, startling her. “You—and Marten Harrow and Grimmé Alvôrd—are banned from the public school program.”
High Premin Sykion closed her eyes with a tense scowl and an exasperated exhale, though she added nothing to words of her fellow council member.
Kyne might have been more stunned about being banned from ever accompanying Domin Ginjeriè again. That is, if she was not already numb. And really, being banned was not all bad, considering how boring the last session had been.
“Until further notice,” Jacque added, still fixed on Kyne, “you three will have other duties to fill that time. I believe the kitchens are shorthanded in wash-up after communal meals. There is also the laundry.”
That part was not good, but it held another relief. Marten and Grim were obviously not expelled if they, too, were expected to suffer such punishment.
But why were none of them being cast out?
High Premin Sykion didn’t contradict the head of Conamology, who ran the public schools. Instead, with another sigh, she stepped slowly toward Kyne, and her voice was softer than Premin Jacque’s.
“I assume you still understand why you were asked not to talk about… well, as you know. What should have also been made clear, is that you could have still come to us—to me—considering what you uncovered in the back of one wagon.”
At that, Sykion cast another fixed glare at Premin Adlam, who looked away in a grouchy frown.
“That you felt left without such a choice,” Sykion said, “was our mistake. For that, I apologize to you, Kyne.”
Kyne stared up into the high premin’s old eyes for too long before she nodded.
“And for now,” Jacque cut in again, “Domin Ginjeriè is removed from her instructor’s position.”
That stunned Kyne again, even more than the high premin’s apology.
Adlam spun on his fellow council member. “Do not try to put this on my domin!”
“Is there a choice?” Jacque shot back. “She is now another draw of unwanted curiosity, considering three initiates who too often accompanied her. Their absence might also bring questions that she dare not answer.”
Premin Adam’s big hands flexed as he spun the other way. “Sykion, I will not have likes of him telling any in my order what they can or cannot do for the public. Say something!”
“This is a matter for Conamology,” Jacque snapped. “We run the public schools!”
Sykion flinched amid another frown, not looking at either of them.
For the first time, Kyne felt unexplainably sorry for the often stern and reserved high premin. Not as sorry—or guilty—as she felt for the kindly domin.
Domin Ginjeriè said nothing in her own defense; not that she had anything to defend.
“I must agree with Premin Jacque,” Sykion answered tiredly, “at least until all public curiosity fades.”
Domin Ginjeriè finally said something. “I need to see the victim to assess his condition.”
“Absolutely not,” Jacque countered. “That would be more cause for attention.”
Adlam’s face reddened even more. “She is the most qualified, considering.”
“And for those outside these walls who might know so,” Jacque shot back, “that would draw that much more attention… considering.”
Kyne looked from one to the next and the next. Considering… what?
“Then I resign from the guild,” Domin Ginjeriè said firmly.
The council chamber went horribly quiet as Kyne’s panic and guilt choked her. Losing the kindly domin was the next worst thing to not knowing what was going to happen to the pup. Before anyone overcame shock, the domin looked to the corporal.
“I can now approach the Shyldfälches privately,” she added, “to offer my expertise without interference.”
Kyne stared from the domin to the corporal. What expertise?
“It will be accepted, either way,” Corporal Lúcan answered flatly.
High Premin Sykion rubbed one temple as if her head had suddenly begun to ache.
“The captain—and the king and queen—have been informed,” the corporal went on. “Anyone who can help settle this quietly will be welcomed by the Shyldfälches.”
Again, Corporal Lúcan nodded to only the domin. The briefest, barest smile passed across Domin Ginjeriè’s beautiful face. More curious to Kyne was that the corporal didn’t appear confused by any of this careful talk.
Did he now know about
the pup? Had someone told him?
Premin Jacque hissed under his breath in turning away as Premin Adlam folded his thick arms with a smug snort. All High Premin Sykion did was close her old eyes with another long breath.
“That is enough talk of reassignments and resignations,” she said tiredly, and when her eyes opened once more, she fixed upon only Kyne.
Sykion reached inside her robe and drew out a folded sheet of paper with a wax seal impressed with the guild’s official emblem.
“Give this to your parents,” she said, holding it out.
Kyne slowly took the document, but before she could ask what it was, the high premin looked to the Corporal Lucan. Without a word between them, the corporal stepped in at Kyne’s side, perhaps to usher her out. But Kyne looked up at the high premin with the document still in her hand.
“It explains what must come next,” Sykion said. “For safety’s sake, I suppose you must remained involved. I think you will find it not as unpleasant as laundry—which can wait a while longer. But hopefully instructive as well.”
Worse was the slight smile on the premin’s narrow, lined face.
Kyne was almost dizzy with confusion over all that had just happened, and she didn’t like not knowing what would come next.
· · · · ·
Before Kyne arrived at home, escorted by Corporal Lúcan, she had dared to ask him if he knew what was in the high premin’s document. The corporal had been more than reluctant, and after a long hesitation….
“I think it best, young miss, that you wait to speak with Domin Ginjeriè. I will take you to her at the garrison, once your parents understand what’s involved.”
Even after arriving home—after her parents opened the high premin’s letter—not much more became clear to Kyne.
“Oh no you won’t!” Mother snapped, slapping the document straight into the corporal’s chest, who actually flinched. “Since when does the guild take children off from home? And don’t you give me nonsense about royal favors. I’ll give them the same as you, if they dare come to me!”
Even Father looked less than pleased.
The berating the poor corporal took was unpleasant and worse. After what Kyne had seen him do last night it the alley, it was almost painful to watch him fidget under the ire of her parents.
Father finally gave in a little at the corporal’s assurance of personally guarding their daughter at all times until she returned home. That was surprising to Kyne, though she was more caught on the notion that she was going… somewhere.
The parental assault ended with Mother still in a fury and Father admonishing the corporal—repeatedly—about what would happen if he failed in the slightest. When Kyne finally stepped out of her home, she heard Corporal Lucan take a very slow breath.
“Sages!” he exhaled, shaking his head.
She didn’t know what that meant, but at least he had remained polite—more than polite. Likely, he would have preferred another encounter in an alley.
“Sorry,” Kyne whispered.
Corporal Lúcan looked down at her. “It’s nothing, young miss. Your parents are admirable… good people.”
And they were off to the garrison, which was actually the second castle of Calm Seatt, given over to the military when the third and final royal castle had been built over two hundred years ago. The part of it to which Kyne was taken, the part used by the Shyldfälches, was a place she hoped never to see again.
Below their offices, she grew sick inside as she peered into another cage.
Inside one holding cell, the pup lay upon a prisoner’s bunk with his head on his forepaws. Inside as well, but at the cell’s far side, Domin Ginjeriè knelt on the stone floor, watching him intently with a strangely sad and puzzled frown on her face. Beside the domin were a wooden box, a small pile of folded white cloth scraps, and a flask and a bowl filled with fresh water.
“I will return shortly to take you home,” the corporal said, and in exchanging a glance with the domin, he left up the stairs.
Kyne didn’t really have to ask, but, “Could you help him?”
Domin Ginjeriè shook her head slowly, still studying the pup. “He would not let me close enough, but I believe he is overall well.”
Only then did Kyne notice the token bookmark as the domin blindly rubbed its braid with a thumb and finger.
Kyne suddenly rushed the bars. She pressed her face between them and reached out to the pup. When he didn’t even lift his head, she dropped her hand.
“Where are we going?” she whispered.
“To take him to the Lhoin’na lands,” the domin answered. “He can join the packs there and be with his own kind.”
Kyne had to lean back from the cell’s bars to see the domin clearly.
“I assume you are up to the journey,” Domin Ginjeriè added, “considering you may be the only one he will allow close to him. It will not be easy, I think, though not just in the journey itself.”
Kyne finally knew what the journey was about. No, it was not going to be easy for the pup… with the pup… but she could finally take him home, where he belonged. That was what she had intended from the beginning, when she had first sought help from Marten and Grim.
At the thought of them, she blurted out another desire.
Domin Ginjeriè instantly stared at her. It was another long moment before the domin said anything.
“Kyne! Have you not caused enough trouble already?”
“Please,” she begged. “After everything, maybe they will finally understand what all of this means.”
· · · · ·
In five more days, Kyne was dressed in too many layers of old clothes by her mother as she stood on the great docks of Calm Seatt… with Marten and Grim. She didn’t dare ask how Domin Ginjeriè had managed fulfilling her request in letting her two closest friends come along. For an instant, she had almost thought to ask for Alshenísh’ìn to be included as well. Aside from him not being a part of the guild, having to face him for a whole journey had given Kyne second and then third thoughts.
Including just Marten and Grim was something she would hear more about upon returning, considering that it required approval directly from High Premin Sykion.
Later was better than now.
Kyne, Marten, and Grim were excited though more than a little uncertain of what lay ahead. None of them had ever been beyond the farmlands outside of Calm Seatt, let alone on a ship. All of their parents were present on the docks except for Master Alvôrd. Only Grim’s stout, fussy mother came with him.
Kyne’s mother glared at Corporal Lúcan in such a way that he politely kept his distance. Yes, the corporal was coming on the journey, though it was a puzzle how he was freed of duties to do so.
As to Kyne’s father, he would not stop “instructing” Domin Ginjeriè—now dressed in canvas pants, high felt boots, and a shorter travel robe—about supervising his daughter. The domin warmly reassured him, again and again, while the corporal avoided that conversation by dealing with loading meager luggage. And then it came time for the last trunk.
That was left to Kyne—and Martin and Grim.
The pup was silent inside of it, and Kyne had checked on him at least half a dozen times already. Goodbyes were quickly said, as that last passenger needed out of the trunk as soon as they reached their cabins. When the ship drifted out of port, excitement remained, but that was the last good part for a while.
Kyne had heard much from Wynn about the places the journeyor had been and the things she had done. Wynn had left out the “getting there” part.
Kyne didn’t realize until the second day that Grim had eaten nothing at all since the first day. That was a first for him. Mostly she didn’t notice because she was too seasick herself… or dealing with the pup’s retching… or sick of listening to Marten moan and wail about being sick. It was more annoying that neither the domin nor the corporal appeared the slightest bit affected whenever they regularly tended their younger cabin-bound companions.
There came a moment—well, more than one—when Kyne almost wished she were doing laundry instead. That was gone by the fifth day, but the trouble was far from over. She had to deal with the pup’s—and her own—“cabin-fever,” as the sailors called it. His was worse than hers.
Chasing him around the deck, either to clean up after he did his “business” or to keep him out of nasty encounters with the crew, became her whole days. More than once, Domin Ginjeriè faced an irate ship’s captain and leaned heavily upon her status as a sage. At a loss for what to do about this, Kyne tried something desperate.
It was a bad idea from the start.
She found a bit of rope and fashioned a crude leash. Putting it over the pup’s head was the end of that. She barely opened the cabin door when he took the rope in his teeth, ripped it out of her grip, and bolted off.
Kyne reached the deck in time to spot him atop a barrel near the rail. Somehow, he pulled the leash off, and he dropped it over the side. Whatever else he had done, Domin Ginjeriè, this time reinforced by Corporal Lúcan, was facing down more irate crewmen.
Marten stood leaning by the hatch door and glowered at Kyne, while Grim stared wide-eyed at everyone over whatever else Kyne had missed.
All of the pup’s fuss and havoc left Kyne dropping exhausted in her bunk each night. That also brought another change.
On the eleventh morning, she awoke to find him on the end of her bunk instead of on the floor. Perhaps he had been doing so before then, and she only realized that morning because of the way she awoke.
Corporal Lúcan stood frozen in the cabin’s open door, likely come to check on her, for she had slept too late. The pup was up on all fours on the end of her bunk, his hackles raised and tail bristling twice as thick, as he snapped and snarl if corporal tried to step in. Likely the opening door had startled him, when only he and Kyne were alone in the cabin.
Kyne hated to admit that Marten was somewhat right; the pup was a very nasty little person. Just the same, she never tolerated anyone blaming him for this. He had been through enough to make anyone nasty.