He periodically went into the town of Hell's Widow to meet with his contacts there. So far, none of them had been Sergei. His bow case hung from his side. It had a double chamber for his arrows, the shafts with the blue and white fletching were hunting arrows, and those with the black and red were for killing myn, which he had poisoned in the night.
Nikko's reluctant permission to hunt on clan lands had resulted in frequent visits from the suspicious lawgiver to make certain that Malthus was sharing his catch with the others at the sanctuary. Malthus sensed that the lawgiver mistrusted him, but had no evidence to back up his feelings beyond the fact that Nikko appeared to be watching his every move. If Nikko became a problem, Malthus would give him a taste of what he gave the priest. The lawgiver was too young, inexperienced, and uncertain of himself to prove much of a challenge.
Beth came up to him with a basket of food. You'll get hungry, she said.
"You didn't need to do this, Beth. Malthus knew that everyone was saying she had fallen in love with him. Just as many were saying that Malthus was chasing Merissa. If they expected to see sparks fly between the two bitches, they were sadly mistaken. Malthus had his psychic hooks into Beth too deeply now for her to object to anything he dideven sticking a knife into her plump body. She brought him all the gossip, spied on those who distrusted him, and covered for his absences.
So far, except for Beth, no one knew he was also jacking Kandaishee and the other four sa'necari. He resorted to them rarely, and only when Beth's bed was already occupied. He had no desire to bed the humans because he did not like the way that human females smelled, among other reasons. So far the only use he had put them to was in trying to kill Kynyr. Although he found the failure of his plot disappointing, Malthus experienced a small gratification at just having Kynyr out of his hair for the nonce.
"I just wanted you to know I care, she said.
Malthus blinked, realizing he had let his thoughts drift. I know, Beth. You're sure it's not too much trouble for you to watch the girls for a few days?"
"No trouble at all, Malthus. I enjoy having them."
"Good. Now I must be off."
Malthus rode along the path through the Sanctuary that connected up with Cheshire Road, which ran north northwest from Wolffgard, heading for the mountains where he had been told there were caves. As he reached the entrance to the camp, Malthus saw Nikko standing at the side of the path talking to three large wolves who were driving marker pegs into the dirt at the entrance. There had been talk of fencing the Sanctuary in and putting a gate across the path there.
The small dog, Moss, danced around Nikko's feet, wagging his bushy tail and watching Nikko for signs of having been noticed. Nikko scooped Moss up and stroked his head. Hunting again, Malthus?"
"Lot of mouths to feed, Lawgiver."
Nikko said something else, but Malthus pretended not to hear as he nudged his horse into a canter. He followed Cheshire Road until it petered out into country lanes, and finally into a spider web of hunter's traces. At that point Malthus left the road and kept deep in the forest, making his own paths, traveling through shadowed places where he was unlikely to be seen. Glimpses of the distant mountains, seen through partings in the thick vegetation, served as landmarks to keep his bearings.
After riding for two hours along a hunter's trace, Malthus caught a flash of orange moving through the trees above him. More and more of his watchers began to come out of hiding. Imps scampered through the trees on every side of him, through the brush and briars, and up in the trees leaping like wizened orange-skinned monkeys. He had been promised the service of dozens, under the leadership of the imp-warlord Gahni. Malthus and Gahni had worked together many times over the years. Yet it had taken substantial promises of food, gold, and booty to persuade Gahni to bring his people from the West Bank of the Hillora to Waejontor.
Lord Daemon had promised that to make Malthus his agent here if he could infiltrate the lycans; and he had. In return, Lord Daemon had kept his promise, and given Malthus all that he asked for: substantial forces at his disposal, a wide range of units, and enough dark creatures to encompass all possibilities.
The trees gave way steadily, thinning into a rocky fell. As Malthus horse topped the first treeless rise, he saw the northern border of Claw's lands, the Place of Boulders. Huge rocks, which had fallen from the mountains rising above it, broke up the landscape like the remains of a giant's scattered toys. It looked like a good place for an ambush and Malthus rode cautiously through them.
When he reached the far side, he saw a stone bleeding table with a tool table sitting next to it almost beneath the cliff. Remembering Nikko's admonitions about no rites on clan lands, Malthus had not expected to find one just inside the clan borders. He rode closer and could now see that a cave with a shaggy overhang of moss and briars opened beyond the tables.
He dismounted and dropped his reins, knowing that his horse was well enough trained to not wander far unless something spooked it, which was unlikely given that it had learned at the hands of an irrfelghau. Lord Daemon had sent this one to him, bringing his mounts to three at the compound. The lycans assumed he had purchased it in Hell's Widow. He fastened his pack horse to an oak sapling and headed for the table.
Malthus approached the bleeding table obliquely, extending his awareness in a low level scan of the area, keeping it trained in a narrow focus that only the most sensitive would detect if it brushed across them and make it difficult for anyone to get a fix on his location if they did detect it. He reached the table and ran his hands over it, feeling the deaths lingering on the auric surface. No rites had been performed here inhe estimatedclose to four or five years. Which would place the last rite around the time that his brother vanished. He sensed human, lycan, and a single sa'necari death there. That last one disturbed him. Could it have been his brother?
He shook the thoughts loose and ducked into the cave. No one had been here in several years. The air smelled stale. There were two interlocked caves, and they were roomy, around the size of a bedchamber. The first one had a dusty cabinet, a table, and two chairs in it. He ran his fingers across the table, trying to pick up any vibrations that might linger and identify who or what had last lived here. All that he accomplished was to leave tracks in the grey dust covering the table's surface. Dust flew in his face when he opened the cabinet's doors and he sneezed hard. Wiping his face on his sleeve, he raised his eyes to the contents. He found blood in the magical preserving bottles crowding several shelves. Why would anyone abandon such a well-stocked larder?
One by one, Malthus turned all the labels to face him. Several of them read vengeance. That sent a rush of adrenaline through him. He reached for one and hesitated, uncertain that he wanted his answer in that way: sa'necari bottled the blood of their own kind and always labeled it vengeance in some form. Instead he opened a drawer and found his answer there: two of Troyes blades and the empty hilt of a third. The blades only shattered when they were used to kill their makers. Beside the blades lay the crest of their family carved into an ivory round, painted, and attached to a golden chain.
Malthus closed the drawers after pocketing the necklace. Then he took down one of the bottles of sa'necari blood, pulled the cork out, and smelled it. He recognized his brother's blood: Troyes was dead. A cold rage shivered through the icy nerves of the sa'necari mercenary.
He lifted the bottle, as if in salute, For remembrance! Then he drank from the bottle. I will punish them, Troyes. I will see that they suffer. He spoke between swallows, carrying the bottle outside where he sat down and finished all of it. I will send Beth here soon and make an offering of her to Bellocar in your name."
* * * *
Late in the evening, two riders showed up. They dismounted and approached Malthus, throwing back their hoods so that he could see their amaranthine eyes glowing in the darkness.
"Malthus! A tall mon hailed him, extending his arms for Malthus to grasp them in greeting.
"Egidius. Malthus smiled, ignoring
the mon's arms, to drag him into a tight embrace. They parted, and Malthus regarded the shorter mon, wondering where he had seen him before. It is good to see you. What have you brought me?"
"You remember my cousin Laetus?"
"Laetus! Of course, I do. It's been years, hasn't it? Malthus turned and clasped the shorter mon as well. You hadn't grown into your fangs yet."
Laetus grinned, baring his fangs. You realize it's been fifteen years since I was blooded?"
"You must be what? Twenty-five now? Malthus slapped him on the back.
"Twenty-six. Laetus glanced around from the bleeding table to the cave. You wouldn't happen to have some vein-juice? Or a lovely piece of flesh I could sink my pleasure spears into? I'm absolutely famished."
"I have plenty bottled. So far nothing but imps have shown up. Malthus led them into the cave and took several of the bottles down. For the sake of his memory, share this with me?"
Egidius frowned. Whose blood?"
"My brother's. Troyes. They killed him."
Laetus shared a glance with Egidius and waited for his cousin to speak.
Egidius nodded. Of course we will. In his memory. Troyes was a fine sa'necari. A powerful mon. A good friend."
Malthus handed each of them a bottle and led them back out. When they finished there would be no more of brother's blood left. What about the units I was promised?"
"They're camped north of here, just outside clan lands. Our scouts have found evidence of another force moving in the valley."
"Lycans? A battle-clan?"
"No. We don't know what they are yet, but we can tell you what they aren't."
Malthus took a long drink of his brother's blood. So what aren't they?"
"They're not Sharani, not lycan, not human. One of our Rakshasha scouts was found ripped to shreds."
"That doesn't sound like sylvans. Could it be Shivari?"
"That's the best guess we've come up with. But if so, they're traveling like humans at least."
"How so?"
"Horses and boot prints. But the scent is all wrong."
Malthus pulled at his moustaches, stroked his oak-leaf beard, and asked the inevitable question, Yuwenghau?"
"What the hell would yuwenghau be doing up here? Laetus asked. They've never cared about what happened in Waejontor before."
"Just because it hasn't happened before, doesn't mean it can't happen now, Malthus said. We need to be cautious. Locate and assess every village in the valley. When the time comes, I'll eliminate the chieftain ... and his family."
"I hear there are some battle-wolves in the eastern villages."
"Kill them first. I will meet you back here in seven days or send you a present."
"A present? asked Egidius.
A smug smile touched Malthus lips. Yes. A lycan bitch I'm tiring of. I made her my tool the first night I arrived. But now she's getting in the way. Rite her here, if you wish. However, I want her remains so torn up she's unrecognizable and left on the east side of the valley."
Egidius slapped Malthus on the back. You always knew how to welcome a friend. You send her along and we'll take care of the details."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
OLD WOUNDS
The Lawgiver House was an eccentric pastiche of various styles of human architecture designed by Maldwyn Softpaws, Nikko's father, with too much interference from Claw Redhand. As a result it stood four stories high with a basement equally divided into store rooms and dungeons. It had balconies, parapets, gargoyles, towers and dormer windows, as well as other architectural nightmares that made foreign visitors wince to look at it. Rivaling the manor for size, it had taken ten years to complete. Rumor had it that Claw had built this house as a way of relieving the sense of emptiness that had plagued him after the deaths of his sons, turning it into an obsessive hobby and Maldwyn's artistic bane.
Claw had lent Cahira twenty of his Nibari to get the dust and cobwebs out and render the place somewhat inhabitable after four years of standing empty. Cahira made do by limiting their efforts to a single small section of the House and pretending the rest did not exist.
Kynyr sat propped comfortably by a pile of goose-down pillows, eating from a bowl of roasted mutton cut into chunks that sat on the bed table across his lap. His bruises had cleared up and the scabs of his wounds had vanished, leaving unblemished skin beneath. A bandage still covered the blade wound, to keep the stitches from catching on his clothing.
Company had arrived and encircled him. Nikko, Finn, and Cahira. His friends came by at every opportunity.
Kynyr chuckled. At least Mary's letting me feed myself now."
"You still don't remember? Finn leaned closer.
"What's to remember? I remember beating Malthus. Then nothing until I woke up here. Gram calls it concussion."
"And that's what it is. Cahira gave a authoritative nod.
Kynyr touched the back of his head gingerly. Hell, my head's still sore."
Moss nestled in Nikko's lap, dozing in doggy contentment. I don't like what is happening at the camp. I've questioned everyone and they act as if nothing happened. No one will talk to me."
Finn frowned. Place gives me an itch. It ain't been the same since that Malthus moved in."
Nikko gave a weary nod. I know."
"You should toss his butt out."
Nikko shook his head at Finn. I'm supposed to be enforcing the laws and customs ... not breaking them."
"Laws and customs change, Nikko, Cahira said. When I was young they would have stoned Merissa to death for sleeping with a sa'necari ... much less bearing his cub."
Kynyr winced inwardly. Every time someone mentioned changing customs, the first example they gave was always Merissa. Isranon was a good mon."
"Was he? A wisp of irritation crept into Cahira's voice. I wouldn't know. I've always stayed away from the sa'necari ... including the Dark Brothers. What freedoms we have, we gained from the Sharani conquest. Thirty years of Sharani rule. If not for them, the sa'necari would still be demanding a ritual tithe of our young. Cahira threw a hard glance at the young wolves, as if daring them to disagree with her.
"Gram... Kynyr tried to derail it, but could not think of what to say.
"No. You listen to me. The Rebellion was Claw's dream. He paid for it with the lives of his sons. And it got him nothing."
"The clans would like to be rid of both of them, said Finn.
"If not one, it will be the other. I, for one, would rather have the Sharani than the sa'necari."
Nikko ruffled Moss ears. I agree with Cahira. After all, the secret histories..."
Cahira made a disparaging noise. The secret histories are just the wishful braggadocio of the elders and the clan chieftains, claiming responsibility for the deeds of others. You should know better than to take them seriously, Lawgiver."
The door opened and female voices filled the air. Moss gave a yelp, made a flying leap from Nikko's lap onto the bed, and clambered over Kynyr to the pile of pillows behind him. Then the little dog spun about barking and snarling with astonishing ferocity.
Merissa halted with Darmyk by the hand and stared at Moss. Her gaze dropped to Kenly and she grasped the big cat by the collar, turned him about and put him out of the room. Darmyk, tell Kenly to wait outside. He's scaring Moss."
Darmyk slipped his hand from his mother's grasp and hugged his cat, making growly noises in the cat's ear. Kenly gave an unhappy rumble and settled on a rug beyond the door.
Aisha, Fianait, and Searlait, who had been following her, stepped over and around Kenly. Cahira got to her feet. Her eyes met Aisha's briefly as if in silent objection. Then she straightened her skirts and went to the door. Please, excuse me. I have things to do in the kitchen."
Finn jumped up. I got things to do. I'll be back in a bit."
He went after Cahira.
Merissa settled into the chair that Finn had vacated. Your grandmother doesn't like us."
Moss calmed down the moment the door closed, and began licking Kyny
r's ear.
"Cahira's just a bit... Kynyr groped for a word that would not cost him in hurt feelings. Odd. She's a bit odd."
"She always was, if you ask me, Aisha snapped.
Silence descended and remained until Darmyk broke it by crawling onto Kynyr's bed. He planted a wet kiss on Kynyr's cheek and said something he could only have gotten from his grandfather. Crotchety bitches. Don't listen to them."
Everyone stared at Darmyk for an instant and then laughter erupted all over the room.
Kynyr hugged Darmyk. Smart cub."
"I know it. A pleased smile of childish superiority spread across Darmyk's face, and he nestled against the injured guardsmon. His robe gaped open and Kynyr's eyes went to the wine-stain birthmark on the cub's chest that had given Darmyk his nickname. Kynyr stroked the birthmark and chuckled with a wink at the assembled females. You are so right, Little Bear."
* * * *
Finn sat across from Cahira at the kitchen table. I saw how you looked at them."
Cahira took the tea kettle from the stove and poured hot water over the little ball in her cup. The fragrance of mint tea filled the room. She let it steep and fetched sugar and fresh cream before answering Finn. You're far too observant, Finn."
"I guess. Comes from growing up with the Dreaded Horde. Ignore the warning signs and get thunked with a hair brush."
"Do you dislike them so much?"
Finn shrugged, an impish smile stirring the corners of his lips. Nah. I love em all. But I'm much happier without them."
"Why did you follow me?"
"You made me a promise and I've been waiting a week for it. Finn ticked the days off on his fingers. Nah, week and a half."
"You're not going to let me off?"
"No. If I'm gonna keep my promise to the Dreaded Horde, there can't be secrets when it comes to Kynyr."
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