That undertone had become a permanent part of his life the day Rethia retrieved the unicorns. Untreated, it grew into a disorienting, dizzying roar, while his chest tightened and his lungs labored — until eventually, he could no longer breathe at all. It had happened once — once he’d almost been in the Heavens with Adela and their adopted son Kavan. Reandn fingered the fine white line that slashed diagonally across his left palm, a reminder of that day. For a while, he’d sought a death that would reunite him with Adela — Tenaebra’s death. Life had eventually recaptured his attention... but death no longer scared him, and it made him more reckless than he might have been.
Rethia gently appropriated his hand, tracing her finger along the scar. “She doesn’t come back so often any more, does she.”
Reandn didn’t even ask. Of course Rethia knew. She always knew. He took his hand back and curled it around the warm tea mug, feeling the clink of Adela’s ring against the fired clay. “Not so often, no.” She’d warned him it would be like that, during those last few sweet moments together when he hadn’t quite died.
Kacey shifted on the bench seat opposite him, never comfortable at the thought of Adela’s presence. Her face had gone red with warmth, though she’d already stripped off her extra layers — as had he. Tendrils of hair curled damply on her cheeks.
She was pretty, Kacey was — though Reandn didn’t think she knew it. It was the sort of pretty that had crept up on him slowly until one day it suddenly seemed obvious. But she was always too busy glaring at her short stubby fingers, and hiding her figure — well-padded, but hardly shapeless — under oversize shirts and loose trousers, and he doubted it had ever seemed obvious to her.
Rethia was watching him, watching as if she knew... something.
“Better get me before your laundry boils to mush,” he suggested.
She gave him a wiser look than he liked before cupping her hands around either side of his head, fingers touching above his nape. Reandn closed his eyes for the moment when the world gave a sudden little lurch, and then the noise retreated to a faint whisper he heard only if he went looking.
He opened his eyes to Rethia’s inquiring expression. “I don’t think you can do that often enough. Especially now... I’ve gotten too accustomed to a patrol wizard who can shield me from things.” Even now, he felt the spell on the cauldron working against him — and it was only then he noticed that the thing was boiling without a fire beneath it.
And then he saw the look on Kacey’s face, and realized that she hadn’t missed the import of his words. “I knew something had happened,” she said. “I knew it. Is she dead, Dan? What was her name, Teya?”
Reandn gave a short and bitter laugh. “No. She’s one of the very few left alive.”
Kacey stiffened. Back by the cauldron, Rethia dropped the claw-footed clothes ladle, ignoring the fact that it immediately sank into the steaming garments.
“Tellan,” Kacey called into the house, not taking her eyes off Reandn. “Come turn this heat off.” In a more normal tone, she added, “I have the feeling we’re done with laundry for the day.”
~~~~~
The cook arrived, was introduced as Lydda, and promptly set about cooking a bland supper for the sickroom occupants. Neither Kacey nor Rethia seemed to have reservations about speaking freely in front of the woman, but Reandn found himself watching her until he realized she was simply too absorbed in her task — and making too much of her own noise — to care what they were saying at the other end of the long kitchen.
And so he told Teayo’s daughters what had happened. Rethia simply watched him with the even, unnerving blue and brown gaze to which he’d finally grown accustomed; Kacey frowned most of the time. She’d met most of the patrol — though not Teya — when Reandn brought them in to get rid of the lice with which they’d managed to infect one another. That had been midway through winter... not so very long ago.
When she frowned over Arval’s broken nose, he knew what that was about, too, though she forbore to say anything out loud. And as the kitchen filled with the smell of baking bread and the cook propped open the back door to let the heat out, Reandn told them he was no longer a Wolf, and let the statement settle into silence.
After a moment, Kacey narrowed her eyes at him. Big and brown and often full of sparks, those eyes were entirely too perceptive. “You’re just sitting there,” she said. “I’d have thought I could’ve predicted how you’d feel about this — about losing them all, and about Arval, and about getting kicked out of the Wolves. But you’re just sitting there, and I can’t tell. How do you feel about it?”
Trust Kacey not to make the obvious assumption, but to ask the same question he’d been asking himself all the way from Arval’s keep. Rethia just smiled her quiet smile, and that figured, too.
They’d both know if he was lying, so he gave them the only truth he had. “I’m not sure.”
Rethia nodded as if it made perfect sense to her, and got up to join the cook. For her, the conversation was over; she knew what she needed to know. Whatever that was.
Not so Kacey. “You don’t know?”
Frowning, Reandn stared into his empty mug. Escaped tea leaves plastered themselves to its rough glaze, giving him something to look at. No. I don’t know. His life as a Wolf had changed so much since those days in King’s Keep when he’d had Adela and Kavan, his rank as Wolf First, and a predictable pattern of days and seasons. When Adela had once challenged him to imagine what it would be like if he suddenly lost his place in the Wolves, and he’d been unable even to consider it.
Kacey made a hmph of a noise, and Reandn only then realized he’d ignored her entirely.
Well, perhaps not entirely. Just out loud. “I... “ he said, and then got lost again, unable to find words he was willing to say.
“You.” Kacey repeated dryly, half-mocking him but mostly just giving up. “Fine. What’re you going to do now?”
For the first time Reandn realized how he’d come to take Teayo’s little haven for granted. “I was hoping... I’ve got some thinking to do, and it’s safe here.”
From the magic, he meant, for even if he inadvertently ran into it, he’d have Rethia’s healing touch nearby. Besides, he’d lay odds they had another round of chores heaped up and waiting for him.
Kacey did roll her eyes, then. “Of course you can stay here,” she said. “Rethia’ll sleep with me, and you can have the loft — considering how full the sickroom is, and what it’s full of. That’s not what I meant.”
“No,” he agreed, understanding that, now. She was asking another one of the things over which he hadn’t been able to gather his thoughts.
“It’d be natural enough to hire out at a private keep, I suppose. If you could find someone who didn’t mind blunt words.”
He showed teeth in a not-smile, an expression that had once taken her aback but to which by now she was well accustomed. “I’m more concerned about finding someone who hasn’t been seduced into flinging magic around.”
She scowled, but it wasn’t at him. “That... won’t be easy.”
Rethia dipped into the conversation from where she stirred what smelled like bean soup. “People with your allergies used to be a great asset, Farren told us once.”
“That was in court, Rethia,” Kacey said, tucking her hair behind her ear again, her face less flushed now that Lydda’s open door had eased the heat. She glanced at Reandn.
He looked away, feeling an unaccustomed chagrin. Born of a camp-follower, shoved in as King’s Keep kitchen help as soon as he was old enough to turn a spit... he’d been teased and scorned until he’d proven he could fight back. And then he’d been ignored — at least until he’d earned his way into the Wolves — a happenstance rare enough to be called unheard of, for the Wolves came from higher born blood than that.
How was he supposed to feel about the Highborn? And, more importantly, how was he supposed to change those feelings now, when he was a man grown?
He wasn’t. He couldn’t
. And Kacey knew it just as well as he did. He glanced at her, finding exasperation — but finding it tinged with affection.
“I know,” Rethia said. “But still...” And then she tilted her head, looking toward the sickroom as if she could see through walls. “Kacey,” she said, putting the long-handled soup spoon aside.
Kacey stood up. No one was surprised to hear Tellan calling for her an instant later, his adolescent voice breaking mid-way through her name and holding an urgent tone. “You’ll stay here for as long as you want, that’s all you need to know for now. My father will keep you busy enough.” As she left the room, Rethia on her heels, she gave him a little grin. “You can start by checking that laundry. In this wind, it just might be dry!”
~~~~~
Reandn jammed a narrow, post hole shovel into the ground and left it there long enough to take off his jacket and toss it over the remaining fence section. Willow, once Dela’s and now Rethia’s horse, stuck his head out of the end stall and stretched it almost to the barn door, eyeing the sunny paddock with longing. From within, Sky snorted impatiently, kicking at the stall.
“Watch that hock!” Reandn hollered at the barn. “It’s your own fault you’re in there!” Which it was. Sky had never come to terms with being gelded late in life; he’d been pestering the black mare mercilessly. A little flirt from the black mare, a little posturing from Sky — and a squeal or two later, a splintered fence.
The laundry survived. The fencepost didn’t.
At least the ground had thawed enough to take the bite of the shovel. Reandn dropped the new fencepost into place, holding it upright as he trickled rocks in around it, then kicking the dirt back in the hole and tamping it down. Ten days of these chores and he’d kept his body moving and his mind clear — not thinking about the patrol, the magic... the loss.
Definitely not thinking about the loss.
He was an anomaly, a man trained to elite standards of physical arts who couldn’t travel far from Rethia’s healing touch — who, if he took a direct hit from strong magic, might not even make it back to receive that touch.
And yet he felt a growing itch... a need for more. Staying here, trading off chores to slink around behind Rethia’s protection... it wouldn’t serve for long.
He slipped out of the paddock and away from its boot-sucking mud, and circled the outside of the fence line to double-check the other posts.
Sly magic pushed against his ears. He stiffened, instantly understanding — someone nearby worked magic... and they worked it on him. Not a great magic, not something that posed any real threat, but magic.
The intrusion instantly kicked his temper into dangerous territory. He turned a slow circle, searching — from the woods beyond the paddock to the dark entrance of the barn to the lane and front clearing of the house to the bulk of the sickroom to —
Movement caught the corner of his eye. A medium-sized figure darted from the corner of the barn into its darkness; the horses snorted and the Sky kicked his stall again. The magic flared into something stronger; Reandn staggered a step at the sudden disorientation, and continued his silent approach to the barn. The spell, whatever it was, had no discernable outward effect.
But the clamor of magic beat at him, and he reached the barn with only one thought — make it stop. Stumbling into darkness, he followed the magic straight to its source. Past the stalls and their restless horses, right through to the storage niche at the other end of the barn.
By the time he saw the revealing flash of a light tunic, Reandn moved on anger alone — and when he grabbed that tunic, he brought them both to his knees in a clatter of falling pitchforks and shovels.
The spell-user loosed an astonishing shriek of fear that hit Reandn’s ears almost as hard as the magic.
“Shut up!” Reandn shouted back. The spell-user babbled incomprehensibly, the magic spiraled into agony, Reandn’s chest tightened — and his anger exploded. He jerked the spell-user into the barn aisle and then slammed him against a stall without bothering to get up from his knees. As if he could. The feel of magic bobbled uncertainly — and then the irritated mare slammed her hoof into the stall behind the spell-user’s head.
With a strangled grunt, the spell-user went limp. The magic flickered away.
Reandn let the unresisting body fall to the packed dirt of the aisle floor and ended up on his hands and knees, waiting for weakness to fade.
“Dan?” Kacey called, her voice close but uncertain. “What’s going on? Tellan? Danny? Where are you?”
“In here,” Reandn told her, not knowing or truly caring if he was loud enough to hear.
Evidently he’d gotten her attention. “Tellan!” she cried, running the last few steps into the barn. Reandn looked up at her, discovering that he could see again. Yes, Tellan. The youth made a disoriented noise, alarm and apologies all at once.
It gained him little sympathy from Reandn. “Tellan,” he growled, while Kacey crouched over the apprentice, quickly checking him for injuries. “You’re lucky I didn’t kill you, you little idiot. What the Hells did you think you were doing?”
“You did this to him?” Kacey said, her quick glance accusing. Then she frowned, taking in Reandn’s appearance, looking back at Tellan. “You were using magic out here?
Reandn’s voice came out as a low growl. “He used some kind of spell on me.”
“On you?” Kacey looked down at Tellan again, but whatever she meant to ask, she cut short at Tellan’s vague response. “What did you do to him?”
“Scared him.” Reandn sat back on his heels, letting his head tilt back while he took a deep breath and waited for the last effects of the magic to fade. “Your mare kicked the stall behind his head. I think it befuddled him.”
“Wonderful. Help me get him outside — I want to take a better look.”
Reandn grumbled, but he climbed slowly to his feet as Kacey pulled Tellan up far enough to shove a shoulder beneath his arm. Reandn grabbed the boy by the back of his trousers; together, they hauled Tellan to the bright splash of sunshine outside the barn. Reandn dropped his half of the apprentice and slid down the side of the barn. The light made his head hurt, and he closed his eyes and decided there would be no more fence post repairs this day.
Kacey ran her fingers through the hair on the back of Tellan’s head. “Not even any swelling,” she said. “With any luck he’s just shaken up. You look worse than he does, Dan — you’re as pale as the sunshine.”
Reandn fought the urge to rest his head against his upraised knees. His legs felt a little too long, and not in the least capable of holding him up. “Didn’t you tell him to keep his magic to himself around me?”
“Only ten or fifteen times,” Kacey said, and added pointedly, “About as often as I’ve told you to keep your temper around me.”
“Am I losing my temper at you?” Reandn raised an eyebrow at her and then decided it wasn’t worth the effort.
Kacey didn’t hesitate; her words were sharp. “That’s not what I said, Reandn.”
He covered his face with his hands and said through them, “Just find out what he was doing, will you? I want to know why he was using magic on me — and I want to know why it got so out of hand.”
“Did you hear that?” Kacey said, her voice just as sharp as she turned to Tellan. “I know you’ve had the wind knocked out of you, Tellan — but you’re all right, and you’re certainly listening. Best speak up!”
There was no brooking Kacey in this mood. Moving his hands just far enough to shade his eyes rather than cover them, Reandn looked over at the boy.
Tellan was pale, all right — but then, he always looked pale to Reandn. He was an awkward youth, and it wasn’t the sort of awkwardness he would outgrow. His turned-out feet were too big, his shoulders were narrow, and his movement was graceless and often downright clumsy. He had the patchy beginnings of a beard which needed to be shaved, but far too many active blemishes on his face to do it. He struck Reandn as the sort who would never excel at his craft,
but who would nonetheless be quietly indispensable.
Reandn leaned toward him and said, “If you don’t talk, boy, I’m going to put you in the stall with that mare.”
Kacey made a face but let the threat stand. Tellan opened his eyes, scootched away from Reandn until he bumped into Kacey — and realized with visible shock that she wasn’t going to protect him. He blurted out, “I was just painting you!”
Reandn exchanged a glance with Kacey; she looked as puzzled as he felt. “You were doing what?”
“Painting him.” Realizing that Reandn wasn’t imminently prepared to haul him into the mare’s stall, Tellan straightened a little. “So I’d know where you were all the time.”
Kacey looked at Reandn, and all he could do was shrug. “But Tellan, why in the heavens?” she asked. “You have strict orders not to work magic near Reandn — and here you were, working it on him.”
“It was only a little spell,” Tellan said, mumbling again. “I didn’t think he’d know.”
“You thought wrong.” Reandn’s anger started to rise again. “And what the bloody Hells were you thinking, throwing all that magic at me? Don’t try to tell me that was any little painting spell.”
Tellan quickly shook his head. “I didn’t mean to do that, I really didn’t. Something happened in the middle of the spell and I lost the structure of it — and then it got out of control, and you were chasing me and I —”
“That’s all right, Tellan,” Kacey said, cutting off the inquisition as though she’d suddenly gotten full. “I know the look he gets when he feels magic, and it’s enough to frighten anyone. Go inside and lie down for a few moments. My father mentioned something about taking you with him this afternoon.”
Tellan’s face brightened, though his glance at Reandn held lingering wariness. Reandn suddenly realized the boy was waiting for his permission. He nodded.
Considering the alacrity with which Tellan moved, he wasn’t all that stunned by his experience after all. Reandn leaned his head against the barn, resting his forearms across his knees. Kacey shifted around to put her back to the barn, sitting close enough so their shoulders touched. She said, “I guess he can’t scent people out like Rethia does. Maybe no one can.”
Wolf Justice Page 4