Blood Lies (Dark Brothers of the Light #9) (15 page)

"Human?"

"Yes, that red-haired mage."

"There are ways, but you will need to be
very careful."

Jingen settled down to listen.

* * * *

Iyan, Grygg and Dahnig trailed Randilyn
along the quiet corridor. Randilyn let out a long sigh. "It's late;
Stygean is probably sleeping."

Grygg shook his head. "Sleeping or not, at
least let us peek at him. See that he's all right and whatnot."

"I would rather that you didn't disturb
him."

Iyan eyed her intently. "You're not at all
like the rest of the nibari."

Randilyn paused to return his stare.
"Ymraude nibari are made, not bred."

"So you're human?"

"Was human." Randilyn started walking again
and the boys followed.

"Did they force you?" asked Grygg.

"They take only those who freely offer
themselves. I was born and reared in Cherdon'datar two hundred
years ago."

Iyan's eyes saucered. "Long-lived?"

"Plain human until I was changed." Randilyn
stopped to stare down the corridor. "I think I saw someone leaving
Stygean's suite. Come on, I want to check on him."

She quickened her pace and entered the
suite. The light through the doorway allowed Randilyn to find the
lamp on the center table. Taking a box of lucifers from her pocket,
she lit the lamp and crossed to the bedroom with the boys at her
heels. She turned the wick up and set it on the nightstand.

"Stygean?" She shook him. "Stygean, are you
all right?"

The boy stirred, blinking sleepily. "I
hurt."

Randilyn settled on the bed, cradled his
shoulders against her breasts and pressed his mouth to her neck.
"Drink enough to sleep easier."

"Randi..."

"Come on, you won't get into trouble over
it. Drink from me."

The boys jostled each other to get a better
look as Stygean's fangs came down and sank into Randilyn's
throat.

Iyan's eyes went round. "So that's what it
looks like!"

Randilyn put a finger to her lips, and the
boys went silent. Stygean fell asleep in Randilyn's arms only
moments after feeding; he never even noticed the presence of his
friends. She tucked him back into bed and they left.

Once they were again traveling down the
corridor, Randilyn became aware that Iyan was watching her closely.
"You have a question?"

"You looked like a mother holding her child.
Your eyes were fond. My mother used to look at me like that."

"That's the greatest compliment anyone has
ever given me." Randilyn's face lit up like a solstice tree. "I
always wanted to be a mother."

Dahnig and Grygg exchanged curious glances,
each daring the other to ask the obvious question. Grygg leaned in
and whispered, "I'm in charge. You ask."

"Why can't you be a mother?" asked
Dahnig.

Randilyn stopped walking and turned to face
the boys, chewing her lower lip nervously. This was not a problem
she could solve alone. "Ask Amiri. Maybe she'll explain it."

She backed away from them, losing all of her
presence of mind as the question had hit a nerve, and fled from
them. Randilyn went down the stairs and hid herself in a pocket of
the stairwell. Leaning against the wall, she allowed the tears to
come, whispering into the night, "Because I'm not female."

Veranoctem 19, 1077

Between Randilyn and Nevin securing extra
feedings for Stygean, the boy was soon up and about again, mended
by blood. A week had passed since Chinisi's irritating visit to his
chambers, and so far Stygean had managed to elude both her and Jun,
as well as Jingen. However, it was proving trickier by the day. He
had more free time than he really knew what to do with, and
everything that he could think of to do carried the risk of running
into at least one of the three people he most wanted to avoid.

It seemed as if Isranon went from meeting to
meeting without a moment for Stygean. So he continued going to
Father Telamon for the teachings that he was not getting from
Isranon. He carried a satchel hanging from his shoulder with a
tablet and writing materials. Telamon had told him that he needed
to become aware of nature, since life was the opposite power of his
innate necromancy.

As he settled by a bush, brown and wiry with
a sprinkling of snow over it, Stygean noticed a dead bird laying on
the ground near the base of it. He reached out with his gifts, and
the bird hopped about in a jerky semblance of life.

"Dead birds now, dead myn later, filthy
little death-eater?"

Stygean flinched and his power left the
bird. It lay dead once more. "Taking notes. Father Telamon
said..."

Jun grabbed Stygean by the collar, dragging
him up. "Little murderer. You think I've forgotten my Nolly? You
killed her."

"I never touched her." Stygean squirmed in
Jun's grip. He had been terrified of the big vampire ever since Jun
had birched him last summer.

Jun lifted him high and shook him. "You
killed her."

Stygean swallowed back the name of Nolly's
killer. He could not allow himself to betray another of his kind no
matter how much he hated Jingen. "I didn't. Amiri told you. It
wasn't my seed in her hole."

"Let him go or I'll break it." Gordain's
clawed hand closed on Jun's wrist. The lycan was at the highest and
most powerful point of the hybrid state.

Jun released Stygean with a hard shove that
sent the boy into a tree with a loud smack.

Darianna and Travis arrived. Darianna put a
protective arm around Stygean, hairing over with her hand on her
knife hilt. "We're watching you, Jun. Leave him alone." Darianna
poked Travis in the shoulder. "Say something."

Travis looked uncomfortable. "See here, Jun.
I don't like him either."

"Travisss!" Darianna hissed.

The captain flinched and straightened. "I
don't like Stygean one bit, but taking matters into your own
hands.... I mean, looking for private justice won't help matters
for Isranon. Not one whit. If my old dog were still around, he'd
not know which of you to bite first."

"So you're siding with the lycans then?" Jun
glared at Travis.

"If'n I don't, I'll be sleeping alone for
the duration." Travis grinned weakly.

Rage suffused Jun's features. With a
wordless cry, he hit Travis, sending the officer sprawling. Gordain
grabbed at Jun, but was knocked into a tree.

Stygean scrambled backwards to get out of
the way as Darianna lunged for Jun, going deeper into her hybrid
shape.

Jun bolted, but not before Darianna had
swiped her claws down his back.

"Why'd he hit me? I was agreeing with him,"
bleated Travis.

Gordain dropped a hand on Darianna's arm.
"Clean your claws. You don't want to accidentally get some of that
in your mouth."

Travis stared at the blood on her claws as
she dipped them into the snow to clean them. "Do lycans become
vampires?"

"No," said Gordain grimly. "They become
something worse; we call them dreadwolves. They live for the kill.
More like werewolves than lycans. We hunt them down and destroy
them."

Travis gulped. "Clean'em good, Daree."

"I always do." Daree straightened, glancing
about her. "Where's Stygean?"

"Bolted in terror would be my guess."
Gordain scanned the little clearing. "All that scuffling has
muddled the tracks. Spread out and see if we can find a clear
set."

"Shouldn't be too hard," said Darianna.

Gordain chuckled. "He might surprise you.
Nevin and I have been training him like a scout. If he doesn't want
to be found, he'll make it bloody hard to find him."

Stygean fled through the pines where the low
branches had left bare ground amidst the snow. He spied a broken
branch and snatched it up, wiping out his tracks as he darted
toward the freshly swept flagstones leading around behind the
stables. Once on the path, he slowed, breathing hard, and got his
bearings.

A crowd of the human boys were rolling up
and packing down balls and mounds of snow ahead of him. Iyan,
Dahnig and Grygg lifted a large ball of snow and placed it atop an
even larger ball. Dahnig spotted Stygean first.

"Yo, Styg, come help us!"

Stygean felt his fright fading as he circled
them. "What are you doing?"

"Building snowmyn. All of the boys are. Some
of the girls too." Dahnig pointed at the far corner of the yard.
"We never got snow in Ocealay. Now that we don't have to travel
through it, it's loads of fun."

Wearing a warm mink hat pulled down over her
ears, Chinisi Cordwainer had let her hair hang loose. The blazing
wealth waved down to her buttocks. She patted the bottom ball and
then the middle, before standing back to regard it critically.

"You fancy her?" Iyan asked, following
Stygean's gaze.

"She gets me into trouble."

The boys laughed and then Grygg spoke up.
"Granted she's a trifle odd. Still, I wouldn't mind escorting her
to the dances Jeevys has planned. She's the prettiest girl
here."

"Get back onto it," urged Iyan. "Stygean,
Jeevys is giving out bags of candy to the three best snowmyn. And
some of it is chocolate!"

"Chocolate?" Stygean's eyes lit up at the
rare and expensive treat. "Tell me what to do."

It had been ages since he had last tasted
chocolate, and it made his mouth water as he rushed about at
Grygg's orders in search of twigs and rocks to complete their
snowmon. From time to time, Stygean would glance back and see
Chinisi watching him.

Stygean carried his prizes back to his
friends. They added arms and buttons and pine needles for hair.
Chinisi started across the yard in their direction.

Giving a loud yelp, Stygean fled. Grygg
grinned and shook his head ruefully. "We'll save him some candy if
we win."

Running headlong into the pines, Stygean
smacked up against something that fell with him into the snow. He
pushed himself up and his eyes saucered. "Oh my ... ohhh ... bloody
hell. I'm sorry, Gordain. Really."

"Something chasing you, lad?" Gordain
assessed Stygean as he got to his feet.

"Chinisi."

"Girl trouble, I see."

"Yessir."

"Sir is for knights. Lycans don't have
them."

"Right." Stygean glanced over his shoulder
to see if she was still coming, but the trees blocked his view of
the yard.

Gordain extended his hand, which Stygean
accepted, and the lycan helped him to his feet. "We're watching out
for you. If Jun tries anything, you just run to the nearest
lycan."

"I'll do that."

Gordain ruffled his hair, making Stygean
smile. "Probably ought to let this old dog lie, but I've been
thinking about it a lot."

Stygean gazed up into Gordain's eyes and
trying to figure out where the lycan was going with that. "What did
I do?"

"Nothing. That's the point. I wanted you to
know that I've changed my mind about you. Also wanted to apologize
for assuming you were responsible for the attack on Iyan last
fall."

A twinge of hurt dug claws into Stygean,
recalling how everyone, except for Isranon and Randilyn, had been
quick to blame him for it. He fought to keep his voice steady.
"Apology accepted."

Gordain hugged him exuberantly, lifting
Stygean off his feet. "I guess this means I can now toss you into
another snow drift?"

"No! No, no, no!" Stygean shrieked as
Gordain hefted him into the air. He saw Chinisi standing under a
tree watching them and words failed him. "I–I–"

Gordain threw him into the deep drift and
the girl giggled behind her hand before walking off.

Stygean dug himself out, looking
abashed.

"Come on, lad. What say we go a round in the
salle? It's going to be several hours before that meeting breaks
up." Gordain put his arm around Stygean's shoulder in a comradely
fashion.

"I'd like that."

"Thought so."

* * * *

Isranon called a meeting as soon as Father
Telamon could arrange to have a group of the refugees brought to
the manor. Charas had lain on the opposite shore of the Hillora
River from Isranon's line of march. So he expected that their
experiences on the road would be very different. But that was not
the focus of this discussion; the fall of Charas was.

Edvarde had rearranged the drawing room,
placing the long table crosswise at the head with himself in the
middle. The leaders of the various factions were seated to either
side of him.

Two adults and three children (ages twelve,
ten and nine) sat in a half moon of chairs with a small, oblong
table before them, on which Jeevys had placed an assortment of
treats and drinks. The only thing that Isranon was aware of already
was that each of the five had ended up alone on the shores of the
Hillora and been taken across by the naiads, who had aided Isranon
in the past. Beyond that, each had made their way alone through the
forests and abandoned towns to Ildyrsetts. They had to be tough and
skilled, or else very, very lucky. Glancing over them, Isranon
guessed it was the former rather than the latter.

Father Telamon sat with the five refugees.
At a gesture from Edvarde, Father Telamon helped a tall mon to his
feet. The mage had a young face, yet he tottered like an old mon,
leaning heavily upon his walking stick.

"If it pleases you, lords, I would prefer to
sit while I give my accounts. Standing for long periods pains me
greatly."

"Let him sit," said Isranon, and the others
nodded.

Jeevys brought him a chair, and he settled
before them. The mage's nearness brought the scent and taste of his
pain wafting to Isranon. Normally sa'necari dined upon the taste of
pain, and it brought them great pleasure: it sickened Isranon.

"My name is Zorrance. I was once the
clerk-marshal of Charas in charge of keeping the Hall of Words
running smoothly." He winced, the lines of his face tightening. "I
should have abandoned Charas and ridden away with the Sacred King.
The prophet, Ishladrie, promised our end should we have snow at
mid-summer. It happened. I ignored it."