Wolf's-own: Weregild (48 page)

"Obviously.” Malick's eyes narrowed. “And what d'you know about Asai's plots?"

"Nothing,” one of the maijin informed Malick boldly, though he kept his distance. “But one only needs to know of Asai's existence to know he had at least one bubbling. Owl commanded, so we followed."

"Owl
commanded
?” Malick's eyes narrowed further, and he shot a quick glance around, concentrating, taking in all the faces, before turning back to the maijin. “Asai sent Leu to spirit for it."

"No,” the man disagreed. “Asai sent Leu to spirit because she was Wolf's, and her usefulness to his plots had ended. She did not move against you that night, Kamen. And so he knew she
would
not."

Once again, Malick's gaze swept them all, thoughtful, before his grin bloomed again, turned wicked. “I see Owl, Snake, and Bear. Raven is not represented here this evening."

"The gods do not choose sides against one another,” Tatsu chided mildly.

"Uh-huh, right, of course not,” Malick agreed, borderline sarcastic, his hand coming up to squeeze Joori's shoulder.

Joori frowned at him, but Malick was peering at both Tatsu and Sora with something that approached keen delight. Very
evil
keen delight, by the glint in his eye. Joori was desperate to ask him what the fuck was going on, but that hand on his shoulder might not be meant for comfort—it might be meant for restraint—so he kept his mouth shut.

"Raven has avoided the appearance of duplicity,” Tatsu said, though he grimaced and shook his head. “Asai, after all, acted alone, and for the—"

"Yeah, yeah, for the glory of Wolf,” Malick scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “And Wolf has not commanded his
Temshiel
to act on his behalf.
Now
I see why none other of Wolf's-own have come."

"Our task tonight,” Tatsu continued, “is to see that none of Raven's interfere. Nor any of Wolf's.” He stopped, shrugged, as though unhappy with what he'd been apparently commanded by his god to say. “None but you, Kamen."

So, what were these people saying? They weren't going to attack them, but Malick was on his own, anyway? That, regardless of what Wolf had actually said, Malick took all the risk here, and could be punished if he didn't step around the conflicting laws and commands just right?

Malick didn't seem surprised. He didn't even seem put out.

"Hung out to dry,” Malick said agreeably. “Yeah, I know, I was told. So, why all this?” He waved his hand to indicate the others hanging back and watching silently.

"The gods do not choose sides against one another,” Sora put in, “but they often change their minds. And after the... disturbance today....” She paused when Joori stiffened, shot him a quick glance but again disregarded him. “The Untouchable could no longer be dismissed as ambiguous anomaly."

Malick snorted. “Ya think?"

"It is Wolf's Cycle,” Tatsu said. “A time of change. It is not ours to know what the gods foresee, and Bear certainly has not confided her divine sight to me.” He paused, smiled a little. “It would seem to me, though, that the gods bide and watch. The Ancestors have lost their Voice, and the Jin have been set as a wedge in the Balance.” His eyes cut to Joori then back to Malick. “You alone hold the key, placed in your hands by Wolf himself."

"Yeah, and if I fuck it up....” Malick muttered, but his hand tightened on Joori's shoulder, so Joori again kept his mouth shut. “So, what if I
do
fuck it up?” Malick asked. “Are you saying the gods will move against Wolf?"

Sora laughed, reached up, and patted Malick's cheek. “Ever the inflated ego, Wolf's-own,” she chided, though she winked and her smile seemed real enough. “I doubt any god would rest on one possibility—even one with such possibilities as Kamen."

"Aw, you say the sweetest things,” Malick cooed.

He fucking
cooed
. Joori thought his head might actually explode.

"The spirit-bound wields your power,” Tatsu said, but he raised his eyebrows like it was a question, waited for Malick to nod, and then nodded back. “I don't want to know your intentions, and none can testify to what they don't know.” He paused, smirked a little, but it was friendly, like he and Malick shared a secret. “Yakuli was claimed by Fate, Kamen, and so is protected by the gods. He is as untouchable to you as your Catalyst is to me.” He leaned in and set a hand firmly to Malick's shoulder. “Let those you would lead do what you've trained them to do. You know what happens if you fuck it up. So,
don't
fuck it up."

"Damn, Tatsu,” Malick said, wiping at the corner of his eye with his knuckle, “you make me teary when you go all poetic and squishy like that."

It was bloody surreal. Joori only just kept himself from making the rounds and punching each and every one of them in their pretty faces. “If you all don't mind,” he said through clenched teeth, “some of us lowly mortals have families in danger. D'you think we could possibly—"

"Right,” Malick cut in. He gave Joori's shoulder one more squeeze and an affectionate pat that Joori managed to take without growling. “One more thing.” Malick turned a serious gaze on Tatsu and Sora. “Where does Dragon stand in this?"

Sora rolled her eyes. “Dragon stands as ever, where it is most beneficial to stand. Her
Temshiel
abets the Untouchable, and her maijin abets the would-be usurper, and neither of them do so by her command.” She shook her head. “Dragon will have someone on whom to place all blame when you're through, Kamen, regardless of whether or not you're still standing amidst the rubble."

It sounded awfully damned cold to Joori, but Malick merely nodded, like he was satisfied with the answer. “Good enough,” he said, confirming Joori's thoughts, then he turned his full attention on Joori, nodding at the gates. “Tatsu's been keeping the guards away while we've talked, but once we're through the gates, we're on our own."

"Yeah, I figured that out,” Joori muttered with a disdainful glance at Sora and Tatsu, and then all the others for good measure. “Standing back and watching the lowly mortals fight it out, yeah? I've never seen so many machinations and manipulations in all my life. Why can't you people just
do
once in a while?"

Tatsu merely opened a hand. “Then what would be the use for lowly mortals?"

Joori sneered, but Malick took hold of his arm and shoved him toward the gates. “Play nice, children,” he chided with a smirk Joori wanted to clock right off his face, but at least they were
moving
again,
finally
, so he let Malick prod him along. “Oh, and Tatsu,” Malick called over his shoulder, “I think you still owe me a drink from that time in Thesia. You remember—you said she had twelve tattoos; she had fourteen."

Tatsu merely grinned and waved, then called back, “I'll buy you a whole bottle,” but Joori pushed out an irritated sigh and shook his head, shrugging Malick's hand off his shoulder as he cleared the gates.

Fucking
Temshiel
.

Samin knew exactly where Fen would be heading—both he and Malick had predicted it so firmly there wasn't even any leeway to make a bet inside their shared conviction—so he hastened his pace, because he didn't want either of the brothers to charge into a place like that without someone there to steady them. And he couldn't let himself be distracted from his own gruesome goal for the evening by allowing himself to be drawn into Fen's. He just wished Morin had been able to go with Shig—the boy shouldn't have to see what was coming—but Shig was occupied with directing those from the Girou, and would need all her concentration before everything was said and done. Timing was going to be everything tonight.

Yakuli's men were already on alert, the commotion at the gates having stirred them, and more of them wandered the paths and perimeter of this hideaway fortress than made Samin comfortable. Most of the attention, however, seemed to be centered on the walls and towers and secondary gates. Samin hadn't yet overheard anyone mention a search for intruders, so he hoped they were still on plan. Though Shig would have let him know, if they weren't. And with most of the personnel here paying more attention to looking outward from the estate than inward, Samin had so far been able to get about his business.

Through the parting clouds, he caught a flash of blooming moonlight refracted by Morin's gold head, farther ahead than he'd thought, so he double-timed it. He stopped as briefly as was possible to unhook the various hasps on the corrals and pens then quietly shoo the horses out of them. One or two would usually do the trick. When the others saw their fellows wandering by with horsey-smirks on their faces, they typically ambled out too. Anyway, it wouldn't matter. As soon as Samin sent the signal to Shig that all the gates were open, she'd take care of getting the horses to scatter.

One bit of ammunition moved from Yakuli's pocket and into the blue. The countryside would be richer in horseflesh than it had ever been before.

Samin would have to double back later, make his way to the southern end of the place where the barracks for Yakuli's men were, because he knew there were more stables and pens down at that end. He took the western side first. Because that was where the prisoner barracks were, and he knew Fen knew it too.

Malick had wanted to wait until full night to begin the assault, but Fen had rather screwed that strategy all to hell, so the camp wasn't near fully asleep with only a skeleton watch. Too many were venturing out, now the rain had stopped, and with Wolf deciding at the most inopportune time to have himself a wide-eyed look, Samin was far too exposed for his liking. Wolf splashed silver over the earth, while the scimitar-splinters of Raven and Dragon lent bloody shadows. Samin had never thought the effect particularly eerie, but now it curled something uneasy in his gut.

There were plenty of outbuildings and storage huts and the like to duck behind as he made his way along the paths, but the corrals and pens themselves were right out in the open. He had to be sly and stealthy, and though he could lay tentative claim to
sly
, he had never even pretended at
stealthy
. He just wasn't built for it.

Quiet and as low to the ground as he could get and still stay on his feet, he made his way to another pen, unlatched it, then dug his knife into the wood and popped the hasp off. His eyes all the while scanned up ahead, trying to spot another glimpse of Morin's bright head bobbing along in the moonlight, but it appeared that Fen was being even more careful than Samin. Samin hadn't caught so much as a hint of them since that first one as he'd followed after them and confirmed they were heading where he'd figured they would head. He grimaced a little as he queered the hinges on the pen's gate so it couldn't close again. He wasn't really surprised—Fen, after all, moved like the Ghost they named him, and he had every interest in making sure Morin did too. Still, Samin wished someone else could take care of the horses. He really didn't want those two walking in on what he knew was in those barracks, not by themselves.

Subie gave a rumbling little burp in the distance, and Samin's mouth tightened as he worked at the iron latch. Wouldn't now just be a
spectacular
time for an eruption or an inopportune quake? Fucking Ancestors. If it hadn't been for them....

Finished, he resisted a growl as he pocketed the hardware. He'd throw the hinges and bolts later when there was no chance he'd be seen doing it. He didn't want any of Yakuli's men finding them and fixing the gates too quickly. Cautiously, Samin turned and scanned again, using the thick post of the pen against which he crouched as flimsy camoufl—

Samin sucked in a thin breath and held it as the slender chill of a blade pressed against his jugular from behind. From
behind
, for fuck's sake! There was nothing
behind
, there was a post
behind
, and a pen behind that. How the
hell
had someone—?

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Samin let the breath go, rolled his eyes. He'd know that snarl anywhere, even low and raspy as it was. “Bloody hell, you scared the shit out of me."

Fen withdrew the knife so that Samin could turn around to look at him where he crouched on the other side of the fence. He blended into the shadows much better than Samin ever would, though the bloody streaks on his face stood like stark, black slashes on his skin. He was glaring, but that was normal, so Samin ignored it.

"What the fuck are
you
doing here?” Samin snapped. “By
yourself
, for pity's sake. No, not by yourself, you've got your little brother—” Samin stopped, shot a quick look around, then frowned at Fen. “Where's Morin?"

A darker pool of shadows just to Fen's right swirled in a way that was unmistakable to Samin, but then he'd seen it rather often just lately. As they settled and dissipated, Morin crouched, grinning, beside his brother, a chunky flash of a ring Samin was dismayed to recognize set loosely on his index finger. Samin narrowed his eyes at Fen. “Aren't you supposed to be wearing that?"

Fen only shrugged. “It was given to me. As far as I know, there were no restrictions on its use."

Now was really not the time to argue semantics with Fen. And especially now that Samin knew it might not get through all the noise.

"Isn't it brilliant?” Morin enthused.

Samin's mouth pinched down. “Mm, brilliant,” was his dubious reply. “Malick teach you how to use it like that?” he asked Fen.

"I already knew the spell. I used to have a—” Fen stopped, mouth tightening. “Don't look at me like that, Samin. Malick won't be damned for protecting Morin, and he needs it more than I do. Now, what the hell are you doing here? And what's with the horses?"

They'd already been sitting here too long. Samin decided a quick explanation would have to do. “I'm here because
you
moved up the plan for tonight, and left the rest of us little choice."

Fen glared. “I wasn't about to wait for another—"

"Save it,” Samin snapped. “We haven't time to debate it. We're here now, so we might as well get on.” He waved at the gate of the pen. “I'm letting the horses loose, so that when the alarm goes up, and it will, it'll at least cut down one advantage, and hopefully distract while we're at it. After I'm done, I'm to signal Shig so she can get them to bolt, and then I'm to head to the prisoner barracks and....” He trailed off, kept his gaze even on Fen, unflinching. Fen knew what Samin meant to do there—Fen intended to do the same thing himself, after all.