He kept the satisfaction out of his face. “Maybe you know duty, but you don’t know life at all. Frankly,” he added deliberately, “I think you’re terrified of it.”
Her eyes narrowed. It wasn’t life that scared her, but the demon in her mind. She’d killed two men intentionally in the last six years, and although they were ghosts she saw in her sleep, the ghost that was worse was the accident, the man she’d almost killed. It was the lack of control of herself that she feared. It was being able to touch the energies of her mother-mother, the power that could erupt through her hands like a dozen knives in a whirlwind. The energies that were linked with the plague. It wasn’t meant for humans, and it wasn’t meant for wolves. That the Ancients had been able to control it at all was a miracle of the moons. In the end, it had nearly destroyed them.
To the Ancients with their partner wolves, to the Wolfwalker Dione, Ovousibas was a healing force. To Nori, with the Aiueven link within her mind, the energy was stronger, violent and less discriminating, and a wolf-bond might not save her. She feared it like flames in dry grass.
The Tamrani thought she was frightened of life? She was terrified she would destroy it. “You know nothing about me,” she snarled.
“Then we’re even,” he retorted. “Because you sure as the second hell don’t know yourself.”
He was fast, but she was faster, and it wasn’t some light-fingered, ladylike slap that she gave him, but the open-handed blow of a scout, trained and honed by years on the trail, with wolves gathering in her violet-grey eyes and not quite under control. He barely registered that she had moved when he felt the stinging blast, and it took all his will to keep his head from rocking back. He grabbed her hand and slammed it down on the table. Her left hand flew to his, and he covered it with an iron grip and jerked her forward so they were nearly face to face. “Once, with the wolves, because you’re still young. But not again,” he said softly.
Heads turned toward them, and several men and women seemed suddenly poised. Hunter ignored them.
“Release me,” she hissed. She almost vibrated with anger.
“Is that you or the wolf?”
Her lips curled back. “Release me.”
He smiled slowly without humor. “Then speak to me as Noriana Ember maDione.”
She jerked at her hand, but he was stronger than she thought. She couldn’t budge his grip. She felt the snarl crawl into her throat. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she would if he didn’t let go. He pressed down hard between two of her fingers and watched without guilt as she stilled.
Someone’s chair scraped back, and Hunter turned his head and looked at the man coldly. “This is personal,” he said softly. “Do not interfere.”
The man stood anyway, as did his friend, and Hunter looked back into her eyes. “We’ll take this outside, Black Wolf.”
“Aye,” she snarled. “That we will.”
“To talk,” he corrected.
Her teeth bared further.
His voice was soft. “We can do this two ways, Jangharat. I can yank you up into my arms, haul you out of here kicking and howling like a wolf in front of all these people, or you can walk out on your own two feet, if you swear, by the moons, to answer one question honestly.”
She hesitated.
He started to jerk her up, and she bit out, “I’ll answer.”
He released her. She sprang back, and he watched out of cool green eyes as she rubbed her hands where he’d pinched the nerves. He could see the conflict in her eyes: run, flee to the pack, or stay and honor her word. She stayed, but it was a struggle. He gestured toward the door, and she stalked in front of him, past the three tall men who eyed him as if they’d like to break more than his nose, past the table of burly chovas who watched him darkly, past the barkeep whose meaty hands rested lightly on the bat only half hidden by the bar.
“That’s far enough,” he halted her in the courtyard. She whirled, stared at him for a moment, then began to pace irritably on the stones. He watched for a moment, then asked quietly, “Do you want me?”
She halted. It wasn’t what she expected, and he startled the truth out of her before she thought. “I—I don’t know.”
He nodded once, more to himself than to her.
She licked her lips. “Do you . . . do you want me?”
“You really are an idiot.” He gestured at the ground in front of him. “Come here.”
She didn’t move. “Why?”
“Jangharat, come here.”
She took one reluctant step forward. He raised an eyebrow. She stepped again, a smaller step, more warily. He waited. It was like convincing a wild animal to come close. He waited again, and she stepped forward until she stood within arm’s reach, but she was balanced on the balls of her feet as if she would flee at any moment.
“Put your arms around me,” he said softly.
“Why?”
“Gods, you’re like a child. Just do it, Noriana.”
She seemed to fight with herself. Then she reached out and rested her hands lightly on his waist.
“I said around me. Around my neck. Like a hug.”
For a moment, he didn’t think she would. Then she reached up tentatively and rested her hands on his shoulders.
“Around me,” he commanded.
“You’re too tall,” she said defensively.
“This should help.” He grasped her by the waist and lifted her against him. Instinctively, her hands locked on his shoulders to take some of her weight, and she stared down into his cool, green eyes. Then slowly he lowered her along the length of his body until her breasts pressed into his chest, and her thighs rubbed at his waist. Her heart was pounding, and her breath feathered on his lips.
He said softly, “Should I worry about my finger bones going to feed the wolf pack?”
She stared at him out of violet eyes. Mutely she shook her head, one short, slow motion.
“Then kiss me.”
“No,” she whispered. But she didn’t draw back.
“Kiss me, Noriana.”
Her eyes greyed.
“No harm,” he said softly. “No harm to you.”
She stared at him.
He waited.
When she finally touched her lips to his, it was the faintest pressure, there one moment, then gone. He felt the grey in her and something else, as if she was almost sparking.
He said nothing, just watched her. Slowly, she leaned in again. This time her eyes closed, and she took in his scent. She could sense the life on this world, through the Aiueven in her mind. She could sense oldEarth life, through the wolves. This man, she sensed on her own. His energy beat at her pulse. She could breathe him in, and he was smooth to her, a clean musk only faintly clouded by the odors of the tavern. She could feel the heat in his thighs, his chest, his hands. It made Rishte growl in her mind, as if the yearling could feel her reach out toward someone else. She hovered above his lips, then touched hers to his. His hands tightened on her waist. It was enough, and she stiffened. Firmly, without haste, without letting her struggle, he set her down, and she stepped swiftly back.
“What am I to you?” he asked softly.
She looked up at him. “Big,” she said dryly.
He chuckled. “Alright, I asked for that. But what could I be to you?”
Kettre’s teasing popped into her head, and she said without thinking, “A good source of tesselskin boots.”
“If that’s what it takes to get you to ride with me, I’d consider it fair trade.”
She lost her smile and stepped back again. “I told you once, Hunter, that you were pursuing, but that I wasn’t running. Find what you want somewhere else.”
“I have what I want right here.”
“You have nothing, Hunter. Don’t presume more than that.”
“You do want me.”
“And that should matter . . . why?”
He studied her. “Because wolves mate for life.”
Her voice was dry. “I’m not a wolf.�
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He reached out to touch her cheek, and watched her flinch back. “Close enough,” he murmured.
Her lips stretched into a feral expression. “It makes no difference, Tamrani. That mating for life? It’s a myth. Wolves mate for years, sometimes a decade or more, but there’s too much turnover in the pack for the Grey Ones to mate for life. Most of the animals the oldEarthers thought did that just didn’t live long enough in the wild to have their two or three mates during any given study.”
“The wolves mated long enough for the myth to form.”
“Why does it matter? Are you asking me to ride with you or Promise?” she challenged in turn. “Because we’ve known each other for barely half a ninan.”
He smiled sardonically. Women learned early that they could make a man run by bringing up the Promise. “If I thought it would snare you, perhaps.”
“Breaking the Promise isn’t lightly done, even for Tamrani.”
Anger flickered in his eyes. “Tamrani do not break the Promise.”
“Neither do I,” she shot back. “Nor any others. I’ve made oaths, Tamrani. You’re not part of them. Find some other wolfwalker. Find some other scout.” She stalked away without looking back.
He almost missed the grey shadow that detached itself from the barrier bushes and slunk along beside her. He didn’t miss the hand that reached out and brushed the edge of Rishte’s ruff. Her eyes would be unfocused, he knew, listening to the wolf. He’d roused her enough that she would be deep in the Grey Ones, her lips curled back and the violence close to her fingers.
Payne straightened from where he had been leaning against the stable. “It’s amazing how well you bring out her temper. Rather like poking at a lepa with a stick.”
Hunter barely glanced at the younger man. He had prodded the wolfwalker deliberately, just as The Brother accused, and she had reacted just as she had with her uncle. Touch the wolf in her, and she turned feral, defensive, ready to fight. “We seem to rub each other the wrong way,” he said mildly.
“Agreed.”
Hunter studied Payne. “She’s on the edge of the grey, you know. She shouldn’t ride alone.”
“I don’t intend to let her.”
The implacability of Payne’s tone made Hunter’s green gaze sharpen. “Moons, neBentar, you’re like twins joined at the intestines. Haven’t you ever wanted to be on your own? Don’t you want to be known as something other than The Brother?” Payne’s violet eyes shuttered, and Hunter knew what The Brother hated most. “She doesn’t have to be glued to your side. She could ride with someone else. Someone who would look out for her like you do.”
Payne regarded him for a moment, then began to smile, then grin. To Hunter’s startlement, The Brother started laughing hard enough to draw looks from the cozar who left the tavern and were walking across to the stables. “Oh, aye, I look after her. And you think she’s just waiting for another man to do the same?” He gestured helplessly after his sister. “Tell that . . . to Black Wolf. I want to watch the back blast.”
The young man spurred his dnu after his sister, chuckling to himself.
Perplexed, Hunter looked after the two. He would swear by all nine moons that Payne wanted to Journey on his own, to be out from under his cozar name. But the Tamrani had just given Payne the perfect opportunity to pass the responsibility for his sister on to someone else, and even though it should have been like sweet tea on the tongue, the young man had turned him down without hesitation. He’d laughed when Hunter offered.
There was something not right about either one, Nori or Payne, he realized. It was as if they projected an image that did not fit their persons. They joked and spoke lightly when among the cozar, yet he’d caught them uncharacteristically sober when they thought they were alone. They seemed too informed to be as repelled by the elders as all the rumors stated, yet they refused to kowtow to the council requests for taking on duties. And although Payne had finally scheduled to Test, Nori still refused. He’d heard it again when she was teased ungently by one of her uncles, and Hunter did not think it was out of fear that she refused, but for some other, deeper reason. She was too skilled, too capable, too interested in finding out what he knew. The children of legends. Either they were as shallow and dissolute as the rumors suggested, or—and this he thought more likely—they were subtly and secretly becoming legends themselves.
He stared after the young man, his green eyes cold and distant as he fingered the belt at his waist. They held secrets, those two, perhaps not unlike his own. Whatever they were, they frightened the wolfwalker more than worlags, more than raiders, more than Harumen. By the First House, the woman needed to be on her own. Payne, Wakje, Ki—they were making her afraid of life itself by hovering so close. For someone who professed to be a scout, it was an odd way to take the trail, with so many chaperones.
His jaw firmed. Whatever duties she thought she had, they could be assigned to someone else. He’d make her see that. He’d dare her into it if he had to. There were lives at stake, and someone with her skills could make the difference between tens rather than hundreds, even thousands, lost. Moons willing, he’d have her riding with him by the end of the Test ninan, or she’d find out just how much power a Tamrani family wielded.
XXXI
“Do you really want the wolf to lead?”
—Drendon, in The Hidden Night
Nori caught up to Wakje and Leanna and Kettre, and a few blocks later with Payne. After that, Hunter and Fentris joined them. The spiced ale hadn’t been as smooth as what the slim Tamrani was used to, and he belched, flushed so badly that they saw it in the dark when they turned and stared at him, and apologized profusely. In the front, Kettre hid a grin.
The pub had been on the back outskirts of town, and they made their way as a group back into streets that were dark and nearly empty. A few people stood on corners or walked down sidewalks as if going home, and one ring-runner clattered out of the stables a moment after they left the pub, but the rider turned south, not west toward the cozar circle.
“Not much traffic this late,” Kettre murmured.
“Aye,” Nori nodded. “Good night for raiding.”
The woman shot her a sour look. “I was thinking that, but I wasn’t going to say it, especially not at the dark end of town.”
They turned off onto a shortcut to avoid the spillover from another tavern, and then went down one of the more shadowed streets to go around the brawl. Nori glanced back as a pair of riders appeared in the intersection behind them. “Something up?” Kettre asked in a low voice.
She shook her head. But a few moments later, the riders followed them onto another street, and Wakje caught her eye. The ex-raider jerked his head toward an alley. She guided them into it without question, down the narrow length, around the empty crates, and onto another side street. No one came out behind them.
Nori didn’t relax. She didn’t need Wakje’s direction to lead them across the street toward a dark corner. She didn’t need Rishte’s growl in her head to stay tense. Hunter started to ask a question, but she made a sharp gesture almost absently. The Tamrani fell silent, but his hand crept to the hilt of his sword and loosened the thong. Fentris and Kettre followed suit. All but Fentris were dressed in dark colors, and Nori frowned at the way the light glinted off the Tamrani’s buttons. At least Hunter had convinced Fentris to leave off his House ring. The glint from that massive stone could have blinded a dozen raiders.
Nori hesitated before rounding the corner. She could smell the laundry, the yeasts of the night bakeries, and the dry dust of the brick ovens, two blocks down. There was an occasional burst of noise from a nearby tavern, and the distant chock-chock of someone chopping wood. A dog barked far away. She could hear the night women singing as they wrung out clothes and hung them on the lines. She felt hemmed in by the village buildings.
Rishte called her from the edge of a whittiny field, and Nori tried to answer. Can you hear them. Are they behind us?
Worry, he seemed to send b
ack. Wariness, and a confused impression of man-things.
She shook her head, unable to understand without the eye contact. Worry—trackers? Man-things—the Harumen behind them? No, man-things were simply the sense of other humans around her, like Wakje and Hunter and the others. She was sure of only one thing: that he wanted her to slide into the shadows and slink away from the town.
Payne moved up beside her, and even under two of the moons, she could see the worry in his face.
No one followed them as they zigzagged through two more blocks. But as they trotted out onto the main road, two riders appeared behind them. It could have been anyone, a couple of cozar or late taverners going home. It could have been a pair of ring-runners readying themselves to ride the black road. But Nori glanced at Payne. The Brother nodded silently, and they urged their dnu to a slightly faster trot. No one questioned the pace.
The riding beasts felt the tension and their muscles bunched more as they trotted. Still, nothing happened. The two riders behind them continued to keep their distance until they were halfway back to the circle. Then a third rider joined the pair. Wakje told Leanna sharply to move forward into the middle of the group. Hunter and Fentris automatically flanked the girl, while Wakje pulled back to the rear.
A few minutes later, a fourth rider joined the other three.
Payne’s voice was low. “Nori-girl, we’re in trouble.”
“I see them,” she answered softly.
“Should we run for it?”
She shook her head. “No. There’s only four behind us.”
“Only four?” Kettre asked dryly from behind.
“Aye.” Nori glanced back at the other woman. “That means the others are up ahead.”
“Can you—?” Payne let the question hang.
She knew what he meant. “He’s off to the left, back of the fields. I can sense him, but I can’t tell what he’s seeing or hearing except that there’s man-scent in his nose.”
Payne looked at the dark mass of trees, then at the faintly glowing road. They would be dark targets against the light if they stayed where they were. “You know the trails here better than I do.”
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