The door to the cottage opened, and a dark-robed figure stepped into the clearing. “You didn’t think you’d get her back that easily, did you?” The voice was feminine, as was the face she revealed by pulling the hood back from her head.
Nwah struggled as hard as she could, but couldn’t move.
The woman chuckled with too much satisfaction. “That’s the beauty of this magic,” she said. “The harder you fight, the more it entangles.”
She was a wizard, clearly, tall and graceful in stature, a user of magic much more refined than Nwah, as attested to by the fact that she could pull the magic of the ley line from the kyree’s grasp with such ease. Her skin was smooth despite her age—ten years past Kade, maybe fifteen. Her robes were the burgundy and flax colors of the barony.
What she said about her magic was true. Nwah’s limbs sank into an invisible mire around her. The air seemed suddenly stale and clotted.
Kade gripped his knife, and, as he took a step toward them, Maakdal, too, emerged from the forest from the other side of the clearing.
“If either of you come near,” the woman said to the pair, “your beloved Nwah will die.”
The Mage raised both hands, and the fabric of the clearing stretched in ways that made Nwah’s mind boggle. Where Nwah’s magic was raw and wild, this woman’s was ordered and showed attention to detail. This Mage had been prepared while they had merely blundered into her trap like so many newborn pups.
Pressure came across Nwah’s ribcage, and she gave an involuntary squeak. She was fully trapped. Completely unable to move. She glanced to Kade, then Maakdal, unable to keep fear from her eyes, yet also unable to miss the fact that while both were willing to die for her, neither was willing to risk her life in doing so.
The woman strode forward and ran a gentle finger over Nwah’s flank. Her touch made Nwah’s pelt quiver.
:So,: her voice came through the ley line, :this is the notorious Nwah, ruler of the kyree my spies said caused such a commotion in Tau? The wonderous Nwah that my Rayn gave me up for?:
A chill crossed Nwah’s spine. :You knew Rayn?:
:Knew her?: The woman’s smile grew playful. She bent to one knee, running her hand in an overly intimate way down from Nwah’s forehead to scratch under one ear. :Yes, you could say I knew her, if by that, you meant we were together.:
Nwah’s narrowed eyes asked her next question.
:Oh, silly kyree. Where should I start? That we were lovers back when we could afford to be young and carefree? That we were going to conquer the world—or at least the doleful Eastern Empire—me with my magic, she with her sword? The two of us together, ruling side by side, both day . . . and night?: She rose with a predacious smile on her lips, then stepped around Nwah, glaring menacingly at Kade and Maakdal to keep them in their places.
Nwah saw her two males exchange glances.
She wanted them to run, but she knew them better. Even now, they both edged closer.
What would they do?
The scuffling in the wood was quieting. Would Maakdal command the kyree in a new plan? Would Kade twist his healing in the darker directions for her?
:We could have done it, too,: the woman continued. :The Empire is weak now, ruled by a dunce and his dolts no more capable of making big decisions than my father. Is that where I should start then, my lovely Nwah? That it could have been so easy?:
Nwah swallowed, suddenly understanding who this woman was.
:You’re the baron’s daughter.:
:Lady Venitha.: She gave a mock curtsy as she completed her circle of Nwah. :At your service.:
Nwah’s brain looped on itself as she tried to remember stories Rayn told about her life before. She told so many, but Nwah was young and so enthralled with her new pair-mate that she missed most of the details.
She remembered one moment, though. A night sharp with autumn chill when Nwah was in a curious mood and Rayn was feeling reflective. They had been nuzzled together for warmth against their open-air camp.
:What is love?: Nwah had asked. Her back was against Rayn’s belly, her front paw covering her nose, her tail looped between her legs.
Rayn rubbed Nwah’s shoulder.
:That’s a big question for a little kyree,: she finally said.
:That’s not an answer,: Nwah pressed.
:Love is difficult because it can be so many things,: Rayn said. :It can be earned or not, requited or not, unconditional or not.:
:I don’t understand.:
She laughed. Soft and warm. :I wish I could explain it better.:
:If you can’t tell me what love is, can you tell me what it is not?:
Rayn shuffled around, adjusting her position to engulf Nwah, cupping her against her chest tightly enough that Nwah could still remember the warmth of Rayn’s breathing and the strength of her embrace.
:Commanded,: Rayn finally said. :The one thing love cannot be is commanded.:
Standing enthralled in the clearing, Nwah understood the truth.
Venitha had tried to force Rayn to love her.
:Eventually, though, Rayn left me,: the Mage said. :You knew that part, though, didn’t you? I’m sure Rayn told you all sorts of stories about me. Some of them might even have been true. She loved my “lunatic ideas” so much when we were simple hooligans. But she never believed me when I said we were going to rule together. She didn’t have what it took. Thought my weak-kneed father would shut me down, and when he didn’t, she left and found you instead. I’ve been looking for you ever since I heard news of Rayn’s untimely end.:
The portent of that statement started to sink in.
:Are you saying . . . all this . . . : She glanced to Kade and Maakdal, then to the now deathly still anvil, before taking in the Mage. :You’re saying you captured Winnie just to bring me here?:
Lady Venitha scoffed. :If only. The guard was meant to capture you straight away, but as they’re as dense as most of their type, they brought me the healer’s strumpet instead.:
:You’re insane.:
:Perhaps,: Venitha said. :But with you by my side, we can lead the Empire even more firmly than I could have with Rayn. You see that, right? You controlling the animal kingdom, me dictating the human side. What a lovely pair of Monarchs we could make!:
Suddenly it made sense.
Venitha wanted Nwah to join her.
Something else fell into place, too, or perhaps it was just an idea that felt right: Could Venitha have been behind the raid that killed Rayn? Per her own word, she had been tracking her ex-lover. She knew of their pairing. She was clearly jealous, and just as clearly vindictive. Was it possible Lady Venitha had ordered Rayn killed?
:I won’t do it,: Nwah said.
:Oh, but I think you will.: Venitha pulled energy from the line, and both Kade and Maakdal, who had been slowly advancing, staggered, clawing at their necks and struggling to breathe. :Because if you don’t, both of these strapping young men will die.:
Nwah’s cry turned to a whine as she watched, helpless as Kade’s face gasped toward blue and as Maakdal bucked and twisted in a macabre dance before falling to the ground, his jaw clacking and smacking as he tried to draw breath.
:Stop it!: she called, looking up to take in the hard-set features of Lady Venitha, who stared at her victims with an expression of ecstasy. :Stop it,: Nwah yelled, but she knew it was too late . . . that she had only one recourse . . .
Then came the dark outline of something round, heavy, and iron, swinging in the shadowed light behind the Lady, looping with perfect geometry to crash into the Mage’s head with a deep thunk.
Venitha collapsed in a single movement.
Her impact with the ground came with a heavy thud.
Standing in her place was Winnie, her nightclothes dirty and torn, her hair loose and tangled from the bed. Her feet were spread, her hands, wrapped around the han
dle of a frying skillet, were still tied at the wrist.
“Who’s the strumpet now?” Winnie said as she looked down at the Lady’s comatose form.
The restraints fell from Nwah’s sides. The ley line came flooding back.
Behind them, Kade and Maakdal took deep breaths of clean air.
* * *
• • •
Nwah lay on her side, resting against the stone wall of the shelter, watching as Kade tended to Lady Venitha, amazed at how easily he gave up his previous resentment to heal her. That trait spoke truth to his calling and gave a depth to his power that Nwah took an odd sort of pride from.
He was her pair-mate, after all.
He was going to be a well-admired man of the Gift.
But she loved him for more than that, though she couldn’t say exactly how.
She was tired again, though.
Drained in a way different from overexertion.
She watched also as Maakdal brought his kyree together again, personally seeing to the status of each, commenting on cuts and bruises, praising each act of heroism. They had lost no members, and Nwah saw how that result was as much due to Maakdal’s preparations as it was to each of her kin’s skills.
She loved him, too. Differently, yes, but just as deeply and with a passion just as impossible to describe.
:She’s a sad case,: Winnie said through Nwah’s magic as she sat beside Nwah and began to pet her. Nwah had used her magic to get Winnie’s story straight from her lips.
The Lady Venitha had restrained Winnie’s hands and feet, then left her tied to a cot in the shelter. During the commotion, Winnie had slipped to the floor and dragged the cot to the makeshift kitchen, where she used a knife to cut the bonds from her feet. There hadn’t been time to deal with her hands, so she grabbed the only thing she had at her disposal—the cast-iron skillet.
:Yes, she is a sad case,: Nwah replied.
:Obsessive.:
Nwah gave a half-purr to agree. :Love is like that sometimes.:
:Yes, it is,: Winnie replied.
They sat there, resting against the hard rock of the shelter wall, watching the men do their work. For the first time, Nwah felt the strength that came from the young woman, strength that had always been there but that Nwah had missed, mostly because she hadn’t wanted to see it.
Hadn’t wanted to think Kade might find it attractive.
Nwah stared at Winnie, feeling fingers run over her pelt with care.
As she watched Kade work, her expression was a mix of many things. Calm. Curious. Wondrous. Interested.
The cool breeze moved the tangle of hair that fell over Winnie’s forehead.
:You’re lucky,: Winnie said to her as she pushed it back in place. :You’ve got them both.:
Yes, Nwah thought. I am lucky.
As was Kade.
Love is hard, after all. Difficult to define.
She was right to say love can be obsessive. But it can be kind, too. And strong. It can be enduring and perfect and confounding.
Love can be many things, Rayn had once told her, and that was the truest thing of all.
The Once and Future Box
Fiona Patton
The roof of Haven’s Iron Street Watch House had been in a dreadful state for as long as Sergeant Hektor Dann could remember, with broken and missing tiles allowing rain, snow, and, once, fist-sized hail, to work their way inside. Although not the oldest nor, by any means, the poorest Watch House in Valdemar’s capital city, each successive captain had insisted that they did not have the money for repairs, expecting each successive sergeant to send as many sweepers, runners, and junior constables as necessary into the attics with mops, buckets, and oiled tarpaulins to temporarily stem the tide of destruction. It wasn’t until its most recent commander, Captain Travin Torell, late of the Breakneedle Street Watch House, had discovered a river of water running down the inside wall of his office, that the funds had been found.
The very next day an army of workmen descended on the old building, sending clouds of dust and dirt showering into the street below. The crash of tiles was nearly deafening, and almost immediately, Sam, the Watch House cat, made his displeasure known with such strident outrage that the cook scooped him up and ran for her mother’s house. Hektor doubted they’d see him again.
The Messenger Bird Master and his apprentice, Hektor’s sister, Kasiath, had relocated their pigeons to the roof of his cousin’s tavern, the Iron Penny, the night before, and, as the coop landed on the growing pile of discarded slate in the street below, a fine mist of dried bird dung joined the mantle of grime already coating every surface both inside and out. The main hall immediately filled with angry shopkeepers and smiths, then emptied just as quickly as another wave of dust and dirt drove them away.
“That’s how to keep complaints down,” Hektor’s older brother, Corporal Aiden Dann noted with grim satisfaction as the cacophony of smashing tiles, pounding feet, and shouted orders drowned out the rising murmur of anger from across the street. “They can’t make ’em if we can’t hear ’em.”
“We’ll pay for it later,” Hektor replied, raising his hands in a helpless gesture toward an old woman who was pointing her finger at him in a deeply disturbing gesture of coming retribution.
By noon, the few prisoners in the basement cells had to be evacuated to the Water Street Watch House, along with the two semiretired watchmen who guarded them, and most of the young sweepers who kept the place—more or less—clean, were pulled from the site by their mothers, fearing for their health. The captain lasted another hour before he and the new Watch House dog, Spotters, fled to the reading room of the nearby Marian Temple. Glaring at the plaster dust covering the duty officer’s desk, Corporal Hydd Thacker wondered in a sour tone if the mice and the spiders would be next to desert.
* * *
• • •
The following day, the street was jammed with wagons hauling the wreckage away and sending new clouds of debris billowing into the air. Then it rained. For three days. The workmen covered the gaping roof in tarpaulins and abandoned the site.
When the sun finally reemerged, Corporal Kiel Wright glanced around in disgust as he and the two eldest Dann brothers slogged through rivulets of sodden construction debris to reach the front door.
“Whole place looks like a den of drowned rats,” he noted.
“A den of drowned, angry rats,” Aiden added as Night Sergeant Jons greeted their arrival with a thunderous expression.
“I can’t walk into my own home without draggin’ half the Watch House in on my boots,” he growled, “which irks my dear, sweet wife and her mother to no end, so you do somethin’ about this. I don’t care what, just somethin’, before I arrest the whole lot of ’em for causin’ a domestic disturbance.”
“The Cap’n . . .” Hektor began, then glanced down as their youngest brother Padreic, recently promoted to the position of Chief Runner, shook his head dolefully.
“What, Paddy?”
“Cap’n’s run off . . . I mean gone off,” he amended as Hektor frowned at him, “to Restinn.”
“When?”
“First thing this mornin’.”
“S’on you then, Hek,” Aiden pointed out.
Hektor looked from Hydd’s expectant glare to Aiden and Kiel’s equally expectant smirks and, closing his teeth on the profanity that sprang to his lips, went in search of the foreman.
* * *
• • •
“As I tol’ yer Cap’n at beginin’,” the older man said, tapping his pipe against the wall, “t’aint unusual wi’ a buildin’ o’ this age. Tis hard ta see full damage ’til tiles be off, but I was sure we’d find rot in the sheetin’, what with that leakage pattern an’ all. An’ we did, so it all has ta go. An’ if that rot’s got down into trusses, they’ll hav’ta go, too. No sense puttin’ new sheetin’ an’
tiles over rotten trusses; the whole thing’ll collapse sooner’r later. In meantime, my oldest boy, Eban’s, been checkin’ attics. He says damp musta been workin’ up there for years. Walls be in a right shockin’ state.”
“Walls?”
“No sense puttin’ in . . .”
Hektor held up one hand in a weary gesture. “How much longer do you think you’ll be?”
“Can’t say for sure.”
“Estimate then.”
The foreman rubbed at the back of his neck, his expression finally apologetic. “A month maybe.”
* * *
• • •
The month passed. Piles of rotten wood added a layer of muck to the already filthy street, and the wagons brought in to haul the larger pieces away only served to churn it into soggy ruts. When the new timber and slate finally arrived, Hektor’s younger brothers, Night Constables Jakon and Raik, had their hands full trying to keep the local children, who seemed determined to get themselves killed, off the stacks. It wasn’t until they appealed to the local knitting circle, made up entirely of these children’s grandmothers, that peace was restored.
“Maybe you should have a whole troop of little ol’ lady watchmen patrollin’ for you.”
Master Smith Linton’s comment drew a loud guffaw from the crowd of blacksmiths watching the proceedings from the front of the Awl and Tongs tavern across the street. “’Course, if this mess keeps interruptin’ trade, they’ll be comin’ after you with needles at the ready.”
Neither the watchmen nor the grandmothers could disagree.
* * *
• • •
A week later, a shortage of nails stalled the work yet again, and Hektor finally abandoned his office, spending most of his time trying to avoid his neighbors. As the first heat of summer chased spring from the city, he and Aiden made their careful way through the debris field toward the Iron Lily, where most of the Watch had taken up shop, only to see five local youths kicking something they at first thought was a ball until they took a closer look.
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