"Yeah. Look, if there's anything we can do to help you, Malthus. You just let us know."
"Thank you, I will."
Malthus bought them a second and a third round. By that time the two youths were treating him like a long lost brother, including telling him about their problems with females: they couldn't get any. They had problems with some of the other young wolves, feeling that they deserved more respect than they were getting. Their jobs at the camp didn't pay well, since they came from donations to the shrine, but jobs were scarce. Malthus took their measures, probed their vulnerabilities, and explored their dreams. He purchased a fourth round and when they finished, the young pair staggered happily back to the compound with him.
* * * *
Kynyr watched Malthus and his drinking buddies leave. Nikko started to rise and follow them, but Kynyr touched his arm and nodded at the chair. I'll buy the next round, Nikko. I need to ask you some questions."
"About what?"
"Was that the new mon at the camp?"
Nikko settled back in his chair as Kynyr gestured at Hereward to refill their tankards. Yes."
"He seems to have cozied right up to your workers. Does that bother you?"
Hereward arrived with fresh tankards, set them smoothly in front of the two young wolves, and withdrew, taking the empties with him.
Nikko stared into his drink with a sigh. Yes, it does. I'm not certain about him."
"In what way?"
"Gut instinct, I guess."
"I never ignore one of those. Has Tempest had a look at him yet?"
Nikko nodded, his lips so tight they nearly disappeared. Tempest says he's human."
"But you don't believe that?"
"There's no reason not to believe it. And yet? Nikko made a palms up gesture of hopelessness.
"Gut instinct?"
"Yes."
Kynyr scratched at the yellow whiskers trimmed into a close-cropped thin line around his features. You ought to get yourself some apprentices."
"I don't feel ready."
"Some assistants then. Hire some assistants."
Nikko sighed. I guess I could think about it."
"Until you decide, Claw says to tell you that Finn, Ramsey and myself are available at all hours."
Nikko ran his hand across his neck, shifting in his chair with growing impatience. I will. Now I need to go. Really, I do."
"Don't bite off more than you can chew, Nikko. Remember you don't have to do anything alone."
"I'll remember. Nikko rose and left.
Kynyr dragged Nikko's tankard over and saw that the lawgiver had taken no more than a couple of swallows from it. Whatever gut instinct was riding Nikko; it was riding him hard.
* * * *
Malthus crawled into the sheeling and dropped his pack well away from the firepit. He withdrew a necklace of little crystal globes that looked like simple pretties. Holding them one at a time in the palm of his hand, Malthus decided which one he wanted. He laid the necklace on the dirt floor, and tapped it with a word of command. Two covered quivers and a long bow came out. He tapped another, which brought forth a bowl and several bottles of a silvery liquid. Then he began to dip the points in and stack the arrows against the side of the sheeling to dry. The poison worked best when it was fresh.
The mountain air of the high elevation valley always became dramatically cooler in the evenings. A small fire burned in the pit. Two reed beds lay along the sides with a quilt to contain them and a light coverlet over that. Ros and Lyrri crept in behind him. Ros appeared a bit peaked, and he knew she must be feeling the effects of not having had blood to drink in several days.
At his gesture the girls settled together on their bed. He stroked Ros dark hair. One more day, Ros. Then I'll have blood for you."
"Thank you, Uncle. I'm so hungry I hurt."
"I know how that is. I've had to go without a few myself."
Malthus put a finger to each of their foreheads and sent them to sleep. He studied them both with a deep fondness while he waited for Beth to arrive. Had he not needed them for this gambit, he would have sent them to his mother when he took them from their maternal relatives, who in his estimation had been not rearing them properlytimid sa'necari equally fearing both the queen and the Sharani, trying to pass for human, and running a dry goods store as a front for their existence. That was no fit life for his brother's children. Especially Ros, who was a prodigy among sa'necari and would be very powerful when she came into her own.
Beth scrambled through the opening, glanced back out to make certain she had not been seen, and sat on his bed. Nothing they did would wake the girls, only his command, or the sun in their eyes. She undressed without being told. Malthus smiled at that. Beth had proved very susceptible. Just one night and he had her trained this much. Tonight he would train her further. He needed Beth to feed both himself and Ros until other arrangements could be made.
"I love you, Malthus, she said, her voice filled with eagerness for him. I didn't let anyone see me. I've been good, Malthus."
"I know, Beth. He looked at the healing bruise he had left on her breast last night. Lycans healed more quickly than humans and it would be gone by tomorrow. It would already be gone, if he hadn't torn her more than he originally meant to.
Malthus kissed her cheek and slid into her mind again, turning and knotting the trigger tighter. He began the first layer of commands that would become a coercion. You want to protect me, Beth."
Once more he used repetitions of her name to strengthen his hold upon her.
"More than anything. Her earnest expression pleased him.
"Good girl, Beth. He gazed at her throat. Bellocar's Hells, how he wanted to put his fangs in her neckbut that would showit was all that he could do to hold himself back. You don't want anyone to hurt me."
She raised concerned eyes to his face. I don't want them to do that."
"They would kill me, Beth."
Her eyes widened like a small creature trapped in the sudden glare of a lamp. No. I can't let them do that."
"You know what you need to do then, Beth, Malthus murmured into her ear, kissing her head.
"I need to protect you."
"More than that. I need the freedom to come and go from this place. You will cover for me, lie for me... Malthus knotted the edge of the coercion. Kill for me."
Tears abruptly appeared in Beth's eyes and spread a river across her cheeks. Malthus knew that she had finally realized what he had done to her, but he was in too deeply for her to break free. Her psyche squirmed. She needed to be disciplined.
He touched a single finger to her chest, with a tiny spell of muscular disruption, which sent a fiery lance of pain through her. She gasped sharply and grabbed at his finger. He brushed her stomach with his other hand, repeating the spell, and Beth doubled over with a cry.
He licked her tears away and kissed her breasts, dressing his threats in a lover's soft tones. Don't fight me, Beth. Don't make me hurt you."
"I won't, she sobbed.
"That's a good girl. He put another knot in the coercion. The more firmly he placed his controls, the more aware of them he could safely allow her to be, enabling him to enjoy the taste of her fear. Do I frighten you, Beth?"
She trembled. Yes."
"Good. Lie back and spread your legs. Which vein shall I open tonight?"
"Any you wish."
* * * *
The two young boys, eight and nine years old, stole up to Malthus sheeling in the dark, and squatted down listening to the grunting and moaning. There had been some words earlier, but they had not heard them clearly.
"See, I told you Beth is finally getting some, Rory said.
"I never thought fat, old Beth would ever get any, Hamish replied.
"I doubt she's more'n a waystation to him. He'll drop her when he gets a prettier sheath for his sword."
"What are you two doing out here this late? Nikko asked, emerging from the darkness beneath the trees. He had been on his way home
from counseling one of the human women in the compound.
Hamish started to run, but Nikko was quicker and had him by the collar. Rory escaped, running for all that he was worth. Nikko sighed, wishing he had been faster and gotten them both. The two Scott boys were not troublemakers; just underfoot more than Nikko thought they should be. He would have to talk to their parents tomorrow. That was part of his job as the lawgiver.
Nikko lifted Hamish onto the tips of his toes. What are you doing? he repeated.
"Listenin to it."
"What? Then Nikko's sharp lycan ears were drawn to the sounds of two people coupling in the sheeling. For a second he wondered if Malthus was molesting his nieces.
"Beth, Hamish hissed. It's old Beth. We were goin home from playing with those Hansley kids and saw her go crawling into there. Then the sounds start up. Oh, they been loud."
"Listening to it is rude. You go home right now, Nikko admonished him, reconsidering his initial decision to speak to their parents, and deciding to wait and see if he caught them here again. If I catch you again, I'll be forced to inform your parents."
"Yes'm, Master Nikko."
"And you tell Rory that I said it."
"Yes'm."
Nikko released Hamish, and the boy raced off in the direction of his home in the middle of the village. Well, maybe the admonition will be enough .
The sounds coming from the sheeling sent an odd shiver over Nikko, like the skeletal hand of presentiment. Something wasn't right, but he was almost afraid to touch it. Nevin would have known what to do. Nikko stared at the sheeling for a moment. He shook himself. If it was not all right for the boys to listen, then it was not all right for him either. So he walked home, wishing Nevin were there to counsel him. More and more he went to Tempest with his doubts and uncertainties, but Tempest was not lycan and failed to understand all of their ways.
He thought of Kynyr Maguire's offer and then shook his head at it. With no proofs to offer, all Nikko had was possibly groundless suspicions. He was supposed to be the lawgiver, not some uncertain, paranoid, wet-tailed cub. It was easier to admit that he might be wrong to someone older than he was, than to someone his own age ... he could not do it.
CHAPTER THREE
CULLEN
Cullen perched on the tall sorrel mare like a stocky pit dog in dusty brown leathers and a nondescript chambray shirt, his stirrups drawn up almost to the saddle skirts to allow for his short legs. The leather patch over his dead left eye and a day's growth of stubble on his weathered face lent him an unsavoriness matched only by his dour expression as he reined Larkspur to a walk entering the courtyard of the manor.
Larkspur recognized that they were home at last and whickered softly.
Cullen patted her neck. Seventeen hands at the shoulder, lean and leggy with a deep chest, Larkspur could outrun nearly anything on four legs: she was Cullen's prize possession; a gift from Claw Redhand whose herd of fine racers were the envy of all the clans.
"Yo, hostler! Get yourself out here!"
Cullen adjusted the strap of his nondescript black satchelcommon to many tradesthat crossed his compact, muscular chest, swung his leg over the saddle, and dropped to the ground.
The hostler, Georgie Rogan, emerged from the barns at Cullen's left and hurried toward him, grinning at the manner in which the short wolf had disengaged from his large mount.
A harsh glance from Cullen's cobalt eye banished the smile from Georgie's face. Although Georgie had several inches in height and forty pounds over the mon, something in Cullen's face and manner discouraged trifling with him.
"Brush her down good, Cullen barked at Georgie. Give her some oats. Mind my words. I'll check later. If you ain't done it right, I'll have the skin off your back."
Georgie swallowed, making his Adam's apple bob like a cork in a stream. Yessir."
Cullen strode to the front door and pounded on it, speculating on which of the servants would answer. He could have just walked in, but he liked making his presence known whenever he returned from a long trip with a packet of letters for the household.
Kissie answered the door and stared at him with reddening cheeks.
Cullen's eyes went straight to Kissie's ample bosom, their shape revealed by the hang of her drawstring-necked blouse that she wore tucked into her skirt. His hand shot out and he gave her his usual greeting: he pinched her nipple. He walked past her brusquely as if he had done nothing untoward. After all, Kissie was a nibari, a slave, although the Redhands like to call them servants. Where's Claw?"
"The Great hall. Kissie trailed him, drying her hands on her apron. Is there something I can get you?"
"You. Naked. My bed. Cullen patted his crotch. I ain't had any since yesterday."
Kissie's flush deepened. I'm in season."
"Pity that. Ya liked it last time, didn't ya?"
Kissie's voice dwindled to a murmur and she ducked her head. Yes, Master Cullen."
Cullen scratched at the stubble on his chin, uncertain whether she meant it or was just being polite. That dinged his ego and he did not say anything else until they reached the Great Hall. There were three things he considered himself a master at: riding, fighting, and fucking ... especially fucking.
Claw glanced up from his whittling as Cullen and Kissie entered the Great Hall, noted the color in Kissie's face, and growled. Cullen, keep your paws off Kissie."
The courier settled into a chair opposite the chieftain. The dour look he had given Georgie returned to his face. As you wish."
"I damn well do wish. Kissie, is Tulah out of season?"
"Yes, Master Claw."
"Good. Tell her she's got Cullen duty."
"That what you're calling it now? Cullen duty? Cullen removed his pouch and slid it across the intervening table to Claw.
"You're a slut. My servants aren't your harem. Claw laid his whittling aside, filled his pipe, and lit it, showing no sign of having noticed the pouch. He puffed for a minute. If you weren't the best ... I'd've dismissed you forty years ago."
"There's that. Cullen took his own pipe out and leaned back in the chair, smoking. It's getting tough to get through. Lord Daemon routed the Sharani at Torment Lake. I had to slip past their pickets and they almost caught me."
"Sharani?"
"Waejontori."
"I'll go through the dispatches and then you can brief me tomorrow."
"Will do."
They smoked for a time in silence.
Claw gestured at Cullen with the stem of his pipe. You've done well for me, Cullen. I've been thinking of rewarding you."
Cullen's interest perked up. How?"
"Isn't Larkspur coming into season soon?"
"Yah. That's why I didn't stop along the way. Don't want some two-bit, mongrel stud covering her."
Claw nodded. He suspected that Larkspur was the only female Cullen had ever loved with his whole heart. I'd like to breed her to Stormsong."
"Woof! Cullen's eyes saucered at the thought of Claw's current top stud. But, what will I ride when she gets too far along? My route is a tough run."
"I'll loan you Shadow Orchard."
"He's risling, ain't he?"
Claw nodded again. He didn't sire the kind of foals I expected."
"Ahh. Now about Stormsong. He won't hurt her, will he?"
"Not at all. Tell you what, Cullen. You can come and watch and see that Stormsong doesn't get rough with Larkspur."
Cullen beamed. I'd like that."
* * * *
Cullen considered going into Wolffgard and spending a few hours relaxing at the Difficult Horse with a tankard of mead and some of Claw's guardsmyn as companions. He decided instead on a hot bath in his rooms and a hot nibari with her legs open. It had irked Cullen when Claw called him a slut, even though the courier had never denied it. Cullen scratched at his head, and continued along his line of thought as if Claw were there and they were arguing, muttering to himself the things he did not dare to say to his chieftain.
"Yeah, yeah,
yeah. I'll settle down ... right. And get stuck with a single bitch for the rest of my bloody existence. Horde of cubs whining at me. Yeah. And be bored as hell. I got too much to offer not to spread it around a bit."
He did not have the social status to rate a harem like some of the clan chieftains and richer merchants maintained. On the other hand, Cullen had been socking away the gold he won racing Larkspur at various country shindigs to purchase half a dozen nibari when he retired. With his reputation, no self-respecting lycan wanted him anywhere near their daughters, so that was out. However, there was a sweet little lycan whore at the Crimson Lady whom Cullen had become fond of. He could always marry Ellie and thumb his nose at lycan society. Being a whore, Ellie probably would not rub his nose in it if she caught him in a few indiscretionsso long as he did not catch her in one all would be well.
A big tub sat in the middle of his outer room with water steaming in it. Cullen felt grateful that his status in the household was such that he didn't have to use the Barrack's bathhouse to soak the road dirt off him. He dumped his clothes on the floor and slipped into the water with a loud Ahh."
His large cock bobbed for a moment and he winked at it grinning. I know what you want."
Cullen's genital endowments were impressive and he took great pride in them. He was still grinning at himself when Tulah came in and laid towels on a chair near the tub.
"Hey, Tulah! Whatcha think a that? He pointed at his cock.
The nibari came closer and looked.
A naughty boy grin spread over his face and he dragged her into the tub. Water sloshed onto the floor and Tulah gave a startled shriek, squirming around in the hot water. Cullen got her skirt up, shoved his hand into her slit, and winked at her.
Tulah settled against him. Nibari, the genetically-altered humans created by the vampires and sa'necari as slave cattle, bred for thousands of years for complete docility, were the soul of complianceunless directed otherwise by their masters.
She giggled as he shifted her around until she sat on his lap, facing him with her legs around him.
Cullen thought back to Kissie and the hint of doubt she had caused him. I do it good, don't I, Tulah?"
"Yes, Master Cullen. Tulah shrugged out of her wet blouse and dropped it on the floor beside the tub.
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