Covenants (28 page)

Slevoic smiled, his face filled with taunting derision. "Yes, sir—hellfire and brimstone!" he shrieked as the very real dragon bore down on him. He scrambled backwards until he hit the wall, his gaze riveted on the flames licking out of Suiden's muzzle. I pulled my blanket over my head, hoping that the captain wouldn't find me in the dark.

"Do you really want to chomp the lieutenant, Suiden? I mean, he's been hanging about with Ryson. No telling what he's picked up." I allowed a small opening in the blanket and watched as Javes the wolf appeared, placing himself between Suiden and Slevoic. He leaned against the dragon's front legs and Suiden allowed himself to be stopped.

"You twist whatever you touch, Slevoic," the dragon prince rumbled, and the windows shook. "And what you can't, you break. But not my men. Never my men." Barely fitting in the hall, Suiden's wings scraped either side and the ceiling. He folded them tight against his body as his flames burned yellow-white. "Give me the knife.” Slevoic weighed surrendering his weapon versus having his arm and any other body parts ripped off. Or fried. He gingerly laid the knife in Suiden's outstretched taloned claw and turned to escape downstairs.

"You haven't been dismissed, Lieutenant," Suiden said, and Slevoic froze, then pressed back against the wall. Suiden put his head to the door and looked into the room. "Come out from under there, Rabbit." I emerged from under the blanket. "Where's Jeffen?” Jeff came out from behind a footlocker, padding on black paws to the middle of the floor, avoiding the spider remains on the floor. Over at the other bunk, the healer stared down at the blue-eyed white wolf staring back at her. The royal griffins at the door shifted lion's feet and ruffled their eagle's feathers, while Groskin lay crouched down before Suiden in the hallway, the black panther's ears flat to his skull. All through upstairs and downstairs I could hear the echo of animal sounds.

"Apparently Sro Cat's final catalyst has happened," Suiden said. "Can you change us back, Rabbit? Or are we stuck like this forever?” "I don't know, sir." I swallowed, the now familiar metallic taste in my mouth, and my hands started to shake at the implication.

"Who cares? This is outstanding." Javes squeezed past the royal griffins and ducked under Suiden's head to come into the room. His yellow eyes were gleaming. "Is this how you've been seeing us, Rabbit?" He glanced down at his body. "What happened to our clothes?”

"Don't know, sir," I replied, my eyes on Suiden as the dragon turned his head to watch Slevoic.

"You don't know? Perhaps we should ask the ambassador, eh?" The gray wolf sat on his haunches and looked about the room, his ears pricking forward as he saw Lord Esclaur. "I say, you too?”

As the two wolves eyed each other, I could hear the animal calls change into words as the world shifted once more. Laurel Faena entered the room carrying his staff, walking by Suiden in his brocade robe. Jeff was sitting on the floor, once more in his smalls. I looked down into my lap where my hands rested, and noted how they were still shaking. Breathe, I reminded myself.

"What has happened?" Laurel asked, as Jeff rose and, in a nonchalant way, moved to his bunk and snatched a blanket off, wrapping it around him. Javes had the presence of mind to also rise and now stood in his own splendidly bright silk robe, his quiz glass around his neck. Out in the hallway other faces filled the doorway behind Suiden, their eyes wide. Many were grinning—a few, though, were not.

"In good time, Sro Laurel," Suiden said. He chose a burly trooper. "You will escort Lieutenant Slevoic to his quarters"—Slevoic jerked up and stared at the captain, his chest still heaving in his fright—"where he is to remain under guard until he is brought up on charges of insubordination. For a start.” Slevoic opened his mouth but, as Suiden gave a deep, rumbling growl, he shut it again, quick. The trooper slipped into his room, returning with sword and knife, and stunned looks followed them down as the men watched Slevoic being herded down the stairs. One, though, scowled.

"So," Laurel said, looking at me. "What happened?”

"We were invaded by weavers—" I began, pointing to the flattened and fragmented spiders.

"We were hexed!" Ryson shouted out, causing everyone to start. (He must've not liked being a real sheep-biting, goat-tupping weasel.) The troopers shook off the shock of Slevoic being held accountable, and mutters of agreement swept through them.

"No one was 'hexed,'" Laurel said, his voice mild, as he frowned at me. He then looked at the floor.

"These weavers?" He brought the end of his staff down with a thump. "How many were there?"

"That was ten, sir," Jeff said.

"A pox on the spiders—" Ryson said, and the muttering grew.

"What spiders?" the royal physician said. She left Lord Esclaur and moved over to where the spider pieces lay on the floor, and abruptly backed away again. "Everybody out of here. Now!" She grabbed Esclaur and hauled him up out of the bed. "Leave the blanket, my lord."

"I'm bloody naked—”

"Do you want to be bloody dead?" The healer started pushing him towards the door, trying to pull the blanket off. "You know better, my lord. Why on earth did you stay in here?”

"But we got them all—" Esclaur began, turning his head to her.

The healer yanked him to the side. "You're barefoot! Watch where you walk!”

Suiden stepped into the room and squatted down by one spider carcass, then immediately stood up again. "Ten Pale Deaths?" He moved quickly out into the hall, the royal guards also backing up. "Get your arses out of there. Now." He looked at Laurel Faena. "You too, ambassador. Dying of their bite is very—unpleasant.”

I threw my blanket off and hurried to the door, Jeff and Laurel on my heels, making sure to avoid the weavers' remains. "One crawled on Jeff's hand," I said.

"If you haven't started convulsing by now, you weren't bitten," the healer said, as she examined Jeff's hand. She then peered at me. "You didn't step on any, did you, my lord?" Her gaze switched to Laurel.

"Ambassador? Their venom goes right through the skin."

Laurel and I checked our paws and feet, and heaved a sigh of relief when we saw they were clean. Javes looked smug, as he was wearing slippers that matched his robe.

"Rabbit probably called them—" Ryson tried again.

"Look," Javes said, pointing.

I turned my head and stared. In the strengthening morning light I could see three more in the corners of the ceiling.

"Eleven, twelve, thirteen," Jeff counted.

"Fourteen and fifteen," Laurel rumbled, also pointing up over the bunk beds.

"It makes one think, doesn't it, fifteen Pale Deaths descending upon this room, after everything else that has happened to Rabbit," Javes said.

It didn't make me think, it made me angry and scared. I shivered, watching one spider crawl leisurely down the wall.

"We don't give a sodding damn about all that!" Ryson shouted, still trying to work the mob. "We were just turned into animals—" His voice trailed off as Suiden turned. The sun had just begun to weakly shine through the hall windows, and the troopers gasped and shifted, opening a path directly from the captain to him.

"They're green, Rabbit," Jeff whispered, staring at Suiden's eyes, "and they're glowing.” I didn't respond to Jeff's seeing what I had seen all along, as Ryson succeeded once more in turning everyone's attention back to the translations, and a space cleared around me also.

"No spell either," Laurel said. He turned to the physician who was still trying to get Esclaur to relinquish his blanket. "What should be done, honored healer, about this infestation?”

"Fumigation. Close everything up and use braziers to burn—”

"The hell it isn't a spell," Ryson said, finding a new target.

"No," Laurel said. "No spell, no hex, no curse. Nothing anyone has done has caused you to change. You just became what you've always been."

"Yeah," I said. "A flea-bitten weasel who's Slevoic's stooge. Tell me, did you and the Vicious go spider hunting yesterday?”

Ryson jumped. He then put on a frown. "No, of course not!”

"Not to interrupt, sirs," a royal guard said, "but the spiders are moving this way." One weaver was hanging by a silk thread over the door opening. Laurel knocked it to the floor, once more bringing his staff end down on it, growling.

"I would point out, honored folk, that although the experience this morning may have been upsetting, you are still alive and well." Laurel gestured at the dead spider. "But I make this the fourth try to kill Lord Rabbit, and you can't recover from dead. At least not in a form most people would want to assume."

Laurel shut the door and disappeared into the neighboring room. He returned with a blanket that he stuffed under the door. "And whoever is behind this has no thought as to who else might be killed. Who knows how many of these weavers escaped in the night and are now throughout the embassy. Maybe even in your own sleeping chambers.”

"He's right," Javes said, frowning. "I think we should all get dressed and evacuate—”

"I don't care," Groskin blurted out, cutting the captain off. He had been standing silent, but now he gave me a tortured look, his face pale. "I don't care about spiders, assassins, poison, and broken swords. I'm a man, not a beast, and I won't stay where I'm being magicked." He took a deep breath and faced the troopers. "I will take anyone who wants to go to the Royal Garrison. I'm sure Commander Loel will understand."

"I just bet he will," muttered Lord Esclaur.

"As I said, Rabbit," Captain Javes said before the lieutenant could respond. "Anyone can be suborned.

Even an officer in the Royal Army.” Groskin jerked around at the captain. "I have not been suborned!

Witchcraft—”

"No witchcraft," Laurel said. "Do you understand? No incantations, rituals, or potions." He gestured with his staff and the troopers ducked. "This is my embassy. A little bit of the fae right here. You were for a moment as you would be in the Border. What you already have become, living here in Iversterre where the Border once was." He rumbled in annoyance. " 'Magic' cannot change what is into something it's not."

He waved his staff again. We ducked again. "As well try to turn a stone into a horse or a wagon into a fish. It. Can. Not. Be. Done." He brought his staff" down and each word was punctuated by a thump on the floor.

Groskin stared at the Faena for a moment, men looked away. "I don't care," he repeated as he turned to go down the stairs, but Captain Suiden had moved and was blocking his way.

"What do you know of broken swords and assassins, Lieutenant?" the captain asked. "You weren't there when Lieutenant Rabbit told of his adventures." Suiden's eyes were lit again, flames leaping in the emerald green. "How did you find out?” Groskin backed up a step, everyone behind him moving away to give him room. They also saw Suiden's eyes. "Lieutenant Slevoic—”

"Lieutenant Slevoic had nothing to do with the attack on Rabbit last night...." Ryson started out shouting, but his voice trailed off as wolf, dragon and panther focused hard on him.

"Oh?" Javes asked. "And how do you know what happened to Rabbit last night?"

"Lieutenant Groskin told me—”

The lieutenant's mouth closed with a click of his teeth and the old Groskin emerged. "The bloody hell I did." He turned to Captain Suiden. "Slevoic told me this morning that Rabbit claimed there was an attempt against him at his cousin's house.” Claimed. I glared at Groskin as I opened my mouth, but Suiden waved me to silence as he considered Ryson.

"The lieutenant says it wasn't him and I tend to believe him. At least over you." The captain's eyes narrowed. "Did you have anything to do with sabotaging Lieutenant Rabbit's sword?”

A murmur—well, more of a growl—swept through the other soldiers at the mention of sabotage and weapons in the same sentence. They pressed closer to Ryson, and it wasn't a show of support. Then they got a strong whiff and moved away again.

"No, sir, I didn't—"

"But you know who did, don't you?"

"Lieutenant Groskin—”

Groskin made a rumble in his throat just like Laurel's and his own eyes shone gold in the dim hallway.

Captain Suiden ignored him, still focused on Ryson. "No, not Lieutenant Groskin." He stepped closer, not caring about Ryson's aromas. "What do you know and who told you?” The problem with weasels is that, well, they're weasels. Leave one twisting in the wind and it would deliver up its own mother for the hint of a chance at a safe landing.

"Lieutenant Slevoic told me last night sir after evening meal that Rabbit claimed five attacked him and that his sword shattered because someone weakened it and that it was a lie as how could anyone fight off that many without a cut or bruise and assassins dressed as pantomime villains is plain stupid and the tongueless part was too much in his cousin's house no less it is a noble house and the puke dishonors it and the Border freak must've made up the attack to cover up him poisoning Lord Esclaur because instead of taking Esclaur to a real physician Rabbit is bringing him here to the witch cat to make sure Lord Esclaur is dead or possessed by demons so that the mutants in the Border can overrun the kingdom," Ryson said.

No one said anything for a moment as they parsed the sentence.

"My goodness," Javes finally said. "All that right after supper? Before Lieutenant Rabbit returned?”

"Siryessir!" Ryson saluted. "He said that someone brought him word, sir!”

"Why did you lie and say Groskin told you?" Javes asked.

"Slevoic told me to, sir, if I were ever asked, sir! He said that Groskin was Suiden's bootlicking spy, sir!

He wouldn't set up Rabbit, sir!" Ryson's eyes started out of his head as he realized what else he'd just let slip. "Uh, I mean, sir, he wouldn't gather evidence—"

"I know what you mean, trooper," Suiden said.

Groskin rumbled again, his eyes narrowing.

"Not so nice to be falsely accused, is it?" I said. Groskin glanced at me and then looked away. I turned to Captain Suiden. "Slevoic was also shocked out of his gourd when he saw Lord Esclaur alive and well this morning, Captain."