Wolf Justice

by Doranna Durgin

  He let his hand drop.

  “First,” she said to him, and got stuck there, unable to do anything but hold his gaze, her light brown eyes full of so many unspeakable words that he got stuck there right along with her. “Reandn —”

  Arval stepped up beside Reandn and demanded, “Where’s Yanwr? What are you doing here?”

  Yanwr. The other wizard. Reandn gave Teya a fraction of a nod; it loosed her words. “Yanwr’s dead. I tried contacting the apprentice... I couldn’t. So I came.” She looked up at Reandn and her voice broke. “I’m the only one left who could ride. Hells, I’m practically — I mean, the rest are... most of them are —”

  Reandn closed his eyes. Dead. They were dead. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t say it. In that instant, the grief that always lurked in him, the black chasm from Adela’s death, loomed big enough to swallow him whole. His Wolves were gone, led into death by Arval’s man.

  He should have gone in spite of his orders. He should have done something, should have —

  “What happened?” Arval demanded. “Come on, woman!”

  Teya sucked in a breath. “They went out ahead, down between the hills... they were supposed to outflank the outlaws, and Yanwr was supposed to keep them hidden.” She stopped, gulping a hesitation. Reandn heard what she wasn’t saying clearly enough: because otherwise there was no cover at all. Arval’s strategist had trusted the magic, and magic alone. “I was supposed to keep the outlaw wizard’s attention, but he was strong — he was so strong... he felt Yanwr’s magic, and he stripped the spell away.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “They didn’t have a chance, they were caught at the bottom of the hill —”

  Her voice broke off in a cry of pain as Arval shouted, “You let the outlaw past your defenses? It’s your fault?”

  Reandn’s eyes snapped open; his grief flared into temper. Arval’s hand clamped around Teya’s injured arm; she had gone grey, unable to do anything but clutch at the pain. Reandn instantly slapped a hand down on Arval’s forearm, digging his fingers into the clenched muscle there as his voice went low and gravelly. “You sent my Wolves out to a slaughter.”

  Arval dropped Teya’s arm and turned on Reandn, florid in his anger. “Your wolves were supposed to be the best!” His finger stabbed at the Wolf Pack patch on Reandn’s shoulder, and at the lacings of rank below it. “They should have been able to handle these untrained outlaws!” Jab, jab, jab went the finger, hard enough so Reandn stepped back to maintain his balance.

  Barely audible, Teya half-sobbed, “Oh, no, don’t push —”

  “And this wizard of yours! She left them wide open to outlaw magic!” Jab, jab.

  Reandn’s anger surged; Saxe’s remembered voice whispered restraint at him. We need this man on our side.

  “No, please don’t push him —” Teya tried to put herself between Reandn and the minor.

  Arval turned on her. “You!” he said, and gave her a shove. “Mind your place!”

  Teya stumbled and fell, crying in agony.

  Saxe’s voice of restraint disappeared in the roar of Reandn’s fury.

  ~~~~~

  “Danny,” Saxe said — Saxe’s very own voice, along with Saxe’s very own self, magicked from King’s Keep for the occasion, “you broke his nose.”

  Reandn didn’t answer. He’d waited for Saxe in the nicest of what might genteelly be called the Arval Keep holding cells. It was clean and not too clammy, and had a hole in the corner instead of an unemptied bucket.

  “Reandn.” Saxe leaned against the vertically barred cell door, his voice growing tight. Lines of fatigue etched around his eyes, and premature grey sprinkled his dark, short-cropped hair.

  Reandn shrugged, still distant, his shoulders moving against the chill stone wall behind him. His thumb rubbed across Adela’s ring.

  “Goddess damn, Reandn!” Saxe exploded, slamming the flat of his hand against the bars of the door. “When the Hells are you going to learn you can’t do this sort of thing? It’s not what Wolf Justice means.”

  Reandn growled, “He lived. Most of my patrol didn’t.”

  “And are you going to come after me next? It was my voice in Ethne’s ear — my call to keep you out of this one.”

  “It was a mistake!” Reandn snapped. “How did you think I would react when you set me aside? Those were my Wolves, Saxe, and you let Arval send them into slaughter!” He flung his words like a weapon, and they hit Saxe dead center, changing the anger in his eyes to something haunted.

  Saxe rubbed a hand across his face and took a moment before meeting Reandn’s gaze, his expression that of regret, and sorrow, and a certain resignation. “They’re not your patrol anymore, Danny.”

  Reandn snorted. “No, they’re mostly dead!” His anger turned into an anguished plea. “I haven’t even seen them yet, Saxe — for Ardrith’s sake get me out of here so I can see them. I don’t even know who survived.”

  “Dakina,” Saxe said, absently rubbing the hand he’d slammed against the bars. “Teya, of course. Sahan should live, though he’ll never work patrol again. Maybe Dreyfen... we don’t know yet. Same for Maccus.”

  Reandn waited a moment for Saxe to continue before he realized that was the end of the list. So few of them... And suddenly he wasn’t alone; he felt the soft whisper of a touch on his face, an equally soft whisper in his mind, murmuring comfort. Adela, drawn by his distress; how long had it been since he’d felt her presence? Closing his eyes, he set his jaw against the raw pain in his throat. “So few?”

  Saxe seemed to be searching for words and finally gave up, moving on to things more practical. Easier to talk about. “I really need to talk to Yanwr; it was his failed spell that exposed them all, and Teya isn’t sure just what happened. But of course Yanwr’s dead with the rest of them, so we may never know.” He looked straight at Reandn and repeated, “They’re not yours anymore.”

  “We do know what happened. Arval’s man put them in an indefensible position and then counted on magic alone to keep them safe. You should have given me approval over Arval’s strategy before you turned him loose with my Wolves, Saxe — you should have kept him on a leash!”

  “They’re not your Wolves anymore.”

  This time, Reandn heard him. He found the edge of the cell’s rickety cot and sat, stunned, staring blankly at Saxe. Former partner. Wolf Leader. Friend?

  Saxe didn’t seem to be able to meet his gaze. “How many times have I told you the importance of this region’s support for the Keep? Arval wanted you celled until you turn green with mold. Ethne and I talked him down to dishonorable dismissal.”

  “Ethne’s here?” Reandn said, though the shock of that barely left an impact after what he’d just heard. Not your Wolves...

  Saxe nodded. “I could hate you for this, you know,” he said, and Reandn looked at him in surprise, trying to match the words with the deep regret on his friend’s face. “We trained together, we rose through the ranks together... hells, we’ve been in this so long together that I’m practically in the habit of saving your Wolf neck after you pull something politically stupid. But... I can’t do it this time.” He shook his head. “You idiot. We needed you!”

  It had been years since they patrolled as partners, since they’d risen to commanding patrols instead of participating in them. It had been two years since Reandn had failed to prevent magic from returning to Keland, and had taken up leadership of a new Remote Patrol. But miles and years apart, they’d ever been tied to those early days of partnership. Reandn cleared his throat. “I... guess I...” don’t have any idea what to say, that’s what. He closed his mouth, tried to think about what it all meant, really meant, and failed.

  Saxe said wearily, “You shouldn’t have hit him, Danny.”

  Reandn tried to summon anger, and failed at that, too. He said simply, “Arval deserved what he got and more. Far more.”

  “That he did,” Saxe agreed readily. “Oh, that he did. But sometimes we have to make trade-offs. Think about it. How are you goin
g to protect them now?”

  Elbows on knees, Reandn rested his face in his hands. He was their patrol leader. He should have marched them off the grounds of Arval Keep, orders or no; he should never have let them go out under Seveyga and Yanwr.

  Saxe’s voice was quiet. “Hindsight is a wonderful thing, Danny. This time, damn you, learn from it. I won’t be around to smooth the ruffled feathers you cause. Not anymore.”

  Reandn smiled grimly, head still bowed. He knew what Saxe meant to say. Hold your temper. Think before you act.

  But Reandn would learn from hindsight, all right. His biggest mistake had been letting rank and politics override his instincts about what was best for the people he cared about. It wouldn’t happen again.

  ~~~~~

  Teya sat on the floor in front of Dakina’s sick bed, carefully keeping her injured shoulder away from Dakina’s badly wounded leg. Dakina slowly ran a brush through Teya’s long, light brown hair, stopping to fuss at every little snarl she ran into. They’d quickly come to this temporary arrangement, and now Teya ran foot-errands for Dakina, while Dakina did two-armed jobs for Teya.

  At least for a while. The nurturing arrangement comforted them both, and Ardrith knew they both needed comforting in this makeshift sick house, with the remnants of their patrol fighting for life around them.

  Both women came from the eastern edge of Keland, a swampy land of hunters and fishers and a great many recipes for frog meat — not to mention poisonous snakes and hidden spots of swamp sludge so soft and deep that few ever escaped its grip. The very land had a way of making one slow and careful, and prone to deciding decisions twice.

  Teya a’Apa and Dakina a’Pael were years apart in age; Dakina had made her adjustments to the ways of King’s Keep and its Wolves several years before it had occurred to Teya that being a Wolf meant making the snap decisions of folk who fought and stalked their way through life. She’d been fortunate when the magic came along and swept her away to Solace for a new kind of training.

  Reandn’s ability to act and react so swiftly inevitably startled her, and inevitably reminded her of her failure to do the same. If she’d been faster on the hill, could she somehow have stopped the slaughter? All she remembered was confusion and chaos, the sense of being battered with visual and magical input. She was, deep down, certain that if it Reandn had been wielding the magic that day, the patrol would have survived.

  Then she snorted. Reandn, wielding magic. Now there was a likely thought.

  “What?” Dakina asked. She’d separated Teya’s hair into sections and placed them here and there and back again, experimenting with the braid.

  “Just thinking,” Teya said. “Just... thinking.”

  “I try not to do that,” Dakina said dryly. “At least for now.” She pulled the hair up high on the back of Teya’s head and began braiding it from there. “Ribbons. We need ribbons, don’t you think?”

  Teya snorted. “I’d get laughed out of what remains of our patrol.”

  “Maybe. It’d give us something to laugh about, at least.”

  Huh. “Maybe we do need ribbons.”

  From the doorway of the small shed, Reandn said, “I’ll see to it.”

  Both women jumped. “Ow, ow,” Teya complained as Dakina twisted, taking her hands — and Teya’s hair — with her.

  “Sorry,” Dakina muttered. “I wish I knew how he can be so damned quiet.”

  “It balances out the rest of the time, when you can’t possibly ignore him,” Teya muttered back.

  Dakina swiftly finished off the braid as Reandn entered the roughly finished outbuilding, and Teya’s first glance at him inspired another, more narrow-eyed assessment: Fatigued, unshaven, the short, thick scar along the angle of his jaw standing out more than ever. He’d obviously slept in his clothes, and his short but persistently disarranged hair had fallen into place without the benefit of brush or comb. As ever, she looked to his eyes to gauge his mood, the grey eyes that were so compelling beneath the contrast of dark brows against dark blond hair.

  This time, she couldn’t read them. Neither, to judge by Dakina’s look, could she. And the others... well, Sahan was dosed into a stupor by Arval’s healer. With any luck he’d stay that way for awhile; his mangled arm kept him in agony otherwise. Dreyfen and Maccus were unconscious, fighting for their lives. A young woman sat between them; not the healer, but a sensitive — someone without much power to wield magic, but enough perception to sit vigil, and to call the healer if anything went wrong. At the moment she was watching Reandn, her expression guarded.

  Reandn nodded acknowledgment to her, and moved closer to the wounded men, regarding them silently for a moment. Give the man some privacy, Teya told herself — but she watched anyway, seeing at first only a callous lack of reaction — and then seeing how his thumb worried the plain woman’s ring on the little finger of the same hand. His dead wife’s ring, his worry stone. The thing that always gave him away. His breath caught in his throat, just like hers had done so often in the last day.

  That’s all it had been. One day.

  When he turned back to the women, Teya suddenly realized how weary he looked. Not just tired, but worn down, almost... defeated. He shifted his jaw sideways ever so slightly — the unconscious habit that meant the magic was troubling him. She wanted to say something to him, anything... but nothing came to her.

  After all, what could she say? Nothing but the same hollow words she’d tried on herself, and she wasn’t used to casual conversation with him at all.

  “They’ll get you out of here soon,” Reandn said, as if he hadn’t been breaking an awkward silence. “As soon as the men are strong enough to take the wizard’s road, you’ll be sent to King’s Keep, where you’ll stay somewhere better than an emptied storage shed.”

  “King’s Keep?” Dakina said carefully. “What about...” She trailed off and looked at Teya, who looked at what was left of their patrol and finished asking the question.

  “What about the remote? Are we being disbanded?”

  “Arval pretty much saw to that,” Reandn said, and his face hardened. “If you heal well enough, Saxe’ll save a place for you in the remote. They’re going to add a second remote to the Maurant-King’s Keep road — you’ll get priority for placements in either of them.” He eyed Teya. “I’ve been told you’ll be going to Solace for a while.”

  Teya glanced up at Dakina, feeling herself close down into cautiousness. “I can learn while I heal.” It wasn’t like they’d pronounced her a fully trained wizard when she’d left the school there, after all — they’d been quite clear that she’d been chosen for her particular strengths, and that she’d be expected to continue schooling at every opportunity. “But... will you... want me back?”

  There — it had happened again. Another swift expression that Teya just couldn’t decipher, abruptly replaced with a layer of the assertiveness she’d come to expect from him.

  “Teya, what happened was not your fault.” This time, she knew the edge in his voice wasn’t for her. “Have any of Arval’s people said anything to you? Because if they have —” he stopped suddenly, ducked his head a moment. “Well, I guess I won’t break any more noses. But I will have Saxe set a guard on you all. In fact, I think I’ll do it regardless. There’s no need for Arval’s people to have access here, aside from the healer.”

  Teya frowned, trying to understand the undercurrent of his expressions. There was something going on here that she didn’t know about, and it was as if she didn’t quite know him anymore — or as if he didn’t quite know himself.

  He watched her for a moment, and let out a breath. “I couldn’t get here any sooner. It’s taken this long to get things settled with Arval.”

  Saxe and Ethne had arrived the evening before, Teya knew. They’d come to talk to her, and had asked her the details of what had happened — which had turned out to be a good thing, because she could tell from their faces that what she was saying was considerably different from Arval’s report. “S
axe told us it might be a while before you made it here.”

  He relaxed a touch. Relief. Now that, she could recognize. “I’ve given him the patrol’s personal gear. He’ll make sure it goes to the right families, along with the commendation pay you all earned. Tomorrow...” he hesitated only an instant here, but Teya knew what was coming. “Tomorrow in the main hall, there’ll be a ceremony honoring our dead. I’ll make sure you get there if you want to, but... I won’t be there. Obvious reasons. Saxe and I are holding Binding come nightfall, a private one. If you want to come...”

  “Oh, yes,” said Dakina.

  “Yes,” Teya whispered. She couldn’t care less about Arval’s empty ceremony. But she wanted to light a torch for each of her fallen pack members, to be part of the ritual binding — each fallen comrade represented by a torch; each torch bound to the others as an offering to Tenaebra. If the goddess listened, it would be that much easier for the fallen Wolves to find one another in the many layers of Tenaebra’s heavens.

  Wolves seldom went to Ardrith, who gathered the souls released by old age and disease; she left those who died in violence to her sister.

  Reandn looked away. It was a deliberate evasion, and Teya felt her old exasperations coming to the fore. He wasn’t telling them something, and she was halfway to blurting out a demand to hear it when he said, “After the Binding... I’m going to over Little Wisdom. It’s best if I don’t stay on here.”

  “But what about those outlaws?” Dakina asked. “We took a bite out of ’em, but not enough to stop them.”

  Reandn shook his head. “If Arval is smart, he’ll ask Solace for help — that’s what he should have done in the first place. Cut the wizard out of that crew, and the rest’ll be as easy to take down as any band that’s gotten too predictable.”

  “We could have done it,” Teya muttered, smarting a bit over that one. Either he was saying he hadn’t trusted her to handle them from the start, or he was saying the remote wasn’t up to handling wizards in the first place.

  Dakina looked at her, puzzled. “Of course we could have done it — if Arval had just let us go in there like we always do, with you checking it out for us and Reandn calling the orders.”