Frank-SQuest

by Serpent's Quest [lit]

  * * * *

  Malthus concluded a deal with Shalto's father to buy two horses, a good riding animal, and a packhorse. Then the next day he rode into Hell's Widow to meet with Heironim.

  The town of Hell's Widow had prospered under the rule of the Sharani occupiers. Without the constant drain on their resources by their former masters who had ruled through blood, terror, and cannibalism, the town had expanded to twice its borders in twenty years. Malthus rode into Hell's Widow, and through the town, noting the presence of the Sharani women walking tall and proud down the streets. Waejontori peasant women wore shapeless black dresses and head scarves. The only sa'necaris dwelling in Hell's Widow lived in the shadows, hidden from the conquerors. They maintained the secret waystations.

  He turned into the yard of an inn called the Devil's Dance , which was a waystation to those who knew what to look for. Their rooms on the third floor catered to obscene appetites concealed from the Sharani. Malthus intended to spend the night here while he concluded his business, and start home to Wolffgard Village tomorrow.

  He dismounted as an ostler came out.

  Malthus tossed the ostler a handful of coppers. I'll be staying the night."

  Inside the inn, Malthus found the common room filled to capacity with locals and he spied Heironim sitting in the far right corner dicing. He strode up to the table and gazed at Heironim. You have some goods for me."

  "Yes, I have. Heironim picked up his winnings. You'll excuse me, but I have business to take care of."

  His companions grumbled, but Heironim shrugged them off.

  Malthus started toward the door to the back without waiting for him, and Heironim fell into step beside him.

  They reached the third floor where Heironim had his rooms and walked down the hallway. A nibari emerged from a room and greeted them. Her face had the kind of flush that came from being sucked after having gone too long without fangs in her flesh.

  Malthus raised his hand to halt her. Do you have more that are over ripe?"

  She curtsied. Yes, master. Two that are getting the blood-bloat bad. We haven't had many masters come through recently."

  "Light meat or dark?"

  "Both light meat, sir."

  Malthus extended his fangs and tongued them with a smile. I'll take your best room, and both nibari. He reached in his pouch and produced two silver coins, which he placed in her hands. Have them wait for me in my room. Send up a nice dinner also. He turned to Heironim. Now let's have a look at my supplies."

  Heironim's suite had a modest sitting room with four chairs around a square table, a divan, and two chests of drawers. A door to the right opened on a bedroom. The only guests who lodged on this floor were those who could not bear close scrutiny. Heironim seated himself at the small table and lifted a chest from the floor onto it. He shoved the chest into the middle, and Malthus pulled it the rest of the way across. Here's what your mother sent."

  Malthus opened the chest and smiled. Six bottles of exotic wines to tempt Claw's palate once the curses were laid upon them and Malthus had wormed his way into their household. Tucked into the other side of the chest were jars of powers and bottles of liquids in strange colors. His mother, Sidera Tyrins, had sent him a fresh supply of the various toxins Malthus enjoyed working with and three of her newest creations. Sidera currently served as Lord Daemon's toxicologist and bio-alchemist, creating deadly surprises for his enemies. Poisons and venoms, both arcane and natural, had been the family business for generations. Malthus had informed everyone in Red Wolff Valley, especially the people of Wolffgard Village, that he was the illegitimate son of the late Lord Estrobian, when actually he was the son of Sidera Tyrins and Lord Feodras who had gone missing after the destruction of the late King Baaltrystan's mountain stronghold.

  A large number of sa'necari nobles had gone missing after the palace collapsed, and only Malthus and his mother knew what happened to them. Sidera had betrayed them into his hands as they fled and he had rited them all, including his father. Each of his victims had carried mortgiefan legacies, increasingly powerful collections of soul fragments and stolen magic, that passed from parent to child when the child rited an aged or dying parent. As a result, his powers now rivaled that of the late Prince Mephistis, the most powerful sa'necari of all time, who had been slain by the Sacred King of Rowanhart.

  Malthus took a bottle of wine from the chest, sketched the spell onto the green glass side, and then added two more runes to triple the strength of the curse.

  "That's an interesting spell, Heironim said, watching Malthus finish with the first three bottles. It's a bit too subtle for my taste, but still interesting. Who's the wine for?"

  "A gift for the chieftain."

  "Ahhh, the chieftain. I can see why you'd want to be subtle."

  "I'm going to the heart of the matter. Malthus paused to chuckle at his joke. His heart."

  A knock came at the door as Malthus finished with the final bottle. He closed the lid and looked up as Heironim answered.

  "Tell the other master that his rooms are ready and his meals are waiting, said the nibari on the other side of the door.

  Heironim nodded, closed the door, and returned to Malthus, looking at the number hanging from the room key. Best room in the house. How do you rate that?"

  Malthus shrugged with a tiny smile that spoke of secrets. I've known the innkeeper for twenty years. He was having a bit of trouble when I first met him. So I went out and rited his trouble."

  Heironim laughed.

  Malthus pulled three small sheets of paper from his pocket and passed it across the table to Heironim. Have your people purchase all these things for me. My cover is that I'm running errands."

  "I'll do that."

  "Your first order of business, once I'm gone, is to buy up some of the whorehouses. Especially the ones the lycans frequent. Malthus pulled a pouch of gold from his belt and sat it on the table in front of Heironim. Some warehouses also. Preferably in a section of town that the Sharani do not frequent."

  Heironim nodded. And what am I doing with it?"

  "Watching for couriers."

  "I don't have that many myn yet."

  "Not on the road, Heironim. In town. They'll have to come through here. If they're using windfolk, then it's my problem. If they're using riders, then it's yours."

  "I'll make a start at it."

  "Good. For now, come to my rooms and have dinner with me."

  "You sure?"

  "Of course, why else would I order two blood-bloaters?"

  Malthus rooms were plush, from the carpets to the heavy drapes, from the overstuffed chairs and sofas to the claw-footed, elegantly carved tables.

  The two nibari, both female, waited on opposite sofas as Malthus and Heironim walked in. The nibari were in the late and most dangerous stages of blood-bloat, something that could kill them if the pressure and other symptoms were not relieved by being bled. The innkeeper, Dymier, could have bled them using leeches or have sliced their wrists and drained a bit off into bottles, but he generally let at least two or three of them go almost to the point of death because some sa'necari and vampires would pay high prices to drink from a bloater. The bloaters always released a pleasant rush of tasty endorphins when a master's fangs entered them.

  Malthus picked one and sat down beside her, savoring the symptoms of the bloat. Their normally light skinned faces were ruddy, their bodies bloated, and their skin clammy with sweat. She shivered as Malthus opened her bodice and pushed it back over her shoulders.

  "I'm Lona, what position do you wish, master?"

  Malthus played with her breasts. A long moan caused him to glance from the corner of his eyes, and he saw that Heironim already had his nibari on the floor in third position. Position six."

  Lona laid down on the sofa, draping one leg over the back, and placing her other foot firmly on the floor. She pulled her skirts up, exposing her slit.

  "Very good, Lona. Very good. Malthus opened his pants and mounted her.

>   She turned her head to the side, offering the best angle for entering her long neck.

  Malthus nuzzled her neck and then slid his fangs into her as he began to thrust.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MERISSA

  As Beth had told him he would, Malthus found the young female sitting upon an ornate bench in the gardens behind the chieftain's house with a child playing in the grass near her feet. A basket of crocheting sat on the bench beside her. Three suede pouches and a small utilitarian knife hung from her jewel studded belt, all of thempouches, sheath, and beltdyed a delicate rose to match her dress.

  She reminded Malthus of Dyllys, his last lycan paramouronly she was far lovelier than Dyllys had been. He had thought Dyllys the most beautiful of all. She betrayed him and he rited her for it. This mon had heavy ginger hair and fair skin, a delicate mouth and nose, large blue eyes. He imagined she must make a striking wolf, since the color of their hair reflected the color of her coat in wolf-form. The child was black-haired and dark-skinned; yet his eyes like polished turquoise marked him as hers. This jewel among wolves had to be Merissa.

  The garden was a simple affair of low hedges, rose bushes, and several rows of herbs. A psychic nudge through the links he had placed in his nieces minds sent them running far ahead of him. They rushed laughing into the garden. Malthus trailed them with a doting expression. The girls rounded the hedgerow nearest Merissa and her son, and stopped with a squeal of fright. Malthus blinked, wondering what they had seen. Then, as he came into view, Malthus hesitated. A half-grown maned hunting cat, a mountain chekaya, rose from behind the bench. He had not seen it until then. Malthus grabbed his nieces and pulled them close to him.

  Merissa sucked in a surprised breath, saw his reaction, and caught the cat by the scruff of the neck. Don't be afraid of Kenly. My son is wilderkin. She indicated the toddler. One day the mother cat appeared and gave him the kitten. Merissa gave Kenly a pat and the cat settled again by her son.

  Malthus wondered how dangerous that might make the child, whether the boy might be a simple wilderkin, or the more rare and deadly predator wilderkin. Caution, caution, caution. Take this one step at a time . Have I permission to sit with you? I'm still learning the ways of this place."

  Merissa smiled pleasantly up at him. Of course. Are these your daughters?"

  Malthus lowered his head as he shook it, allowing Merissa a brief, fleeting glimpse of his inner sorrow at the loss of his family. Nieces. Their parents are dead."

  Always the more daring of the two, Ros crept up to Kenly and touched him tentatively, just brushing her fingers across his forehead. He's soft. Come on, Lyrri. He won't bite. Will you, Kenly?"

  Lyrri hesitated and Ros went back, bringing her forward. Soon both of them sat petting the huge hunting cat.

  Kenly started to purr and then gave an odd cough.

  Merissa directed a startled glance at Kenly before frowning at Malthus. She's sa'necari. Are you? She looked at his wrists, which wore no spellcords.

  "Me? No, of course not. I thought you were not allowing any adult sa'necari into the valley now."

  "We have a few. They are all spellcorded, sealed, and watched. It is the only way we would allow them to seek refuge here. They must repudiate the old ways."

  The thought of spellcord made Malthus stomach clench, but he forced himself to relax. He would rather die than allow himself to be corded and cut off from his powers. It had happened once, but only once and he would never forget the burn as the cords were twisted into his flesh, and the empty sickness of being blocked from his dark inner core. What could possibly have driven his people to allow themselves to be bound? But the other sa'necari here, besides the children, were all women, and women were all soft in the head when it came to their children.

  What fools these lycans! No one who has tasted the rites ever truly repudiates the old ways. Malthus decided not to point that out to her and thus endanger his own kind. Instead, he inclined his head to acknowledge the soundness of her statement. Which is exactly as you should."

  Merissa smiled again. She bent forward and lifted her boy to her lap. This is my son, Darmyk. He's two and a half. He'll be three at mid-winter."

  "A handsome boy. Is he sa'necari born? Is that why you brought him here?"

  Merissa hesitated before answering. Sa'necari, yes. However, Claw is my father."

  "Then you are the Princess Merissa!"

  Merissa blushed. We're not that formal here."

  "May I call you, Merissa?"

  "Yes."

  "I am Malthus. He extended his hand and she placed hers into it. Malthus gave a short bow and kissed her fingers. He lingered over her hand a moment too long and she pulled away from him. My half-brother was sa'necari as was his wife. I was not born with that stigma. Ros is seven and Lyrri is six. I thought we'd never reach here safely."

  After watching Darmyk rolling over the huge kitten, the two girls joined him, petting and laughing.

  Merissa sighed, her lips tightening a fraction. It's hard. Especially with this rebellion against the Sharani claiming so many lives."

  "I hope your husband has chosen to remain here in the valley."

  "I'm not married."

  "Widowed?"

  "My son was born on the wrong side of the blankets. Not that it's any of your business... Merissa said, lifting her head to a proud angle, and her eyes flashing with anger as if daring him to say something.

  Malthus nodded. Considering the age of the boy, Beth was right. He wondered whether it had been Troyes or Isranon who had gotten her pregnant. They had stayed at this farm together. Troyes orders had been to ride on after leaving Mephistis young catamite here, but if he had, no one knew it: Troyes had never been seen again. I meant nothing. I too was born on the wrong side of the blankets . My father was married to someone else."

  Merissa sighed more deeply. I apologize for reading more into your question than you intended, I'm sure. It's just that so many people look askance at me. I just assume everyone I meet already knows. My lover rode off to follow his prince and left me. At least he was honest. He told me from the beginning he didn't love me."

  "I am sorry. Malthus almost laughed. Isranon, for certain, had rejoined Prince Mephistis after the fall of the Lord Hoon's City of the Dead three years ago. Could Troyes have done so as well? Which one fathered this little boy? He suspected Troyes. The half-a-mon had never seemed masculine enough to attract a woman like Merissa, nor possessed of the boldness to force one. Troyes had been both.

  "At least he wishes to know his son and has promised to come when he can."

  "I cannot understand how a man could not love a woman as beautiful as you."

  Merissa shifted uncomfortably and stood up with Darmyk. You are kind, but I think I should go in now."

  "Will you be out here tomorrow? Maybe the children could play together. My nieces haven't made any friends yet."

  Merissa smiled again, relaxing. Of course they can play together. Darmyk will like that."

  Malthus watched her go. She was exactly his brother's type. Troyes would have certainly tried to bed her. When Troyes chose a woman, he always got her. Then Malthus thought of a third possibility. Could the lycans have killed his brother and hid his body if he had managed to bed her and get this child? Lycans generally abhorred having a sa'necari child born to one of their own. Beth's words came back to him : we should have stoned her .

  What a waste that would have been. Merissa was the loveliest piece of flesh he had ever encountered.

  Had Merissa been anyone except the clan chieftain's daughter, no doubt she would have been forced to abort the child rather than bear it. Malthus needed to discover the name of the child's sire.

  Malthus continued to consider it as he returned to the sanctuary with his nieces. Two sa'necari with their wrists spellcorded and sealed carried buckets of water hanging from a pole across their shoulders. They looked tired and worn out. A tickle of anger started in his middle. Sa'necari women should not look like that, nor
work like that. The sanctuary owned only a dozen nibari, all cast-offs donated from other lycan households. So feedings for those women were scattered and few. Fools. Fools all .

  "Go play with the other children, he told his nieces and went into the longhouse. Beth stood at a tub, rising off the dishes from dinner. She set the last one aside and went to Malthus, throwing her arms around him in a hug. He stiffened, but Beth failed to notice it.

  "I'm so glad you're back, she said.

  "I will be glad of some time alone with you, Beth."

  "Do you like my dress? Beth asked.

  Malthus finally stopped thinking about Merissa for a moment and stared. The neck of Beth's dress was unbuttoned almost to her nipples. His hand tightened on her wrist. Come, Beth. Let's find a place to be alone together. I need to adjust your triggers otherwise everyone will know I'm plowing your field. When the time comes, you'll scream nicely on my altar. It's Merissa I want.

  He took Beth to his sheeling and they crawled inside through the low entryway. The girls would not be back until dark. They tended to stay away as much as possible, leaving him to his business once he dismissed them. The lycans had no nudity taboos, yet being unclad always made a female feel more vulnerable before a dominant male. So he started each of his sessions with Beth by having her undress for him.

  She sat on his bed, her plump breasts resting on the firm roundness of her belly, and her heavy thighs opened. The overhang of her belly partially concealed the tuft between her loins. Malthus liked them slender, but his friend Egidius liked them fat. He would introduce Beth to Egidius when he arrived.

  "I love you, Malthus."

  "Yes, I know, Beth. He wondered if he had chosen the wrong first command by making her fall in love with him. There were other approaches he could have used that might have worked as well. Putting his hands on her breasts made her tremble. Initiating rapport, Malthus wrapped himself through her awareness, tied another knot into the compulsions regarding her devotion to him. You must not be so forward in showing off your body in public like this. People will get the wrong idea."