Frank-EReturn Read online

  Aghavie came out with a lunch pail. Thought you might get hungry running Lady Maguire's errands."

  Fychan brought the wagon around and climbed down from it.

  "You're the one who's always hungry, Aghavie. Iollen rubbed her belly fondly. You're almost as big around as you are tall."

  Aghavie giggled, tucked the lunch pail under the seat of the wagon, and waddled back into the house.

  "Ya ought'n be going alone, Iollen, said Fychan.

  "I doubt Preece will bother me if I don't have Aghavie along."

  "But, still..."

  "Preece messes with me to provoke Kynyr. Iollen climbed onto the wagon. I'm just the available target."

  Iollen released the brake and jiggled the long reins to get his pair of matched sorrel, Silvershire horses moving and headed for town.

  As he drove onto East Pendarke Road, his thoughts started circling in the quiet as they always did. A few months ago, he had still been running with Cormic Parry's crowd. Most of them were dead now.

  Cormic's favorite pastime had been rape. Any bitch caught walking alone after dark was considered fair game to Cormic and his buddies. Their first victim had been Aghavie. Seven of them dragged her into an abandoned house as she was walking home from visiting a friend one night. Iollen, too nervous to get it up, had held her down while the others got their jollies. Three of Aghavie's attackers were still alive other than Iollen: Shalto Beggins, his cousin Oswyl, and Preece Malloy.

  Aghavie's father had been too afraid of Preece to report the rape after he found his eleven-year-old daughter lying in a pool of blood and semen. Iollen could understand that, since he was afraid of Preece also.

  It would probably still be going on, if they had not finally picked on the wrong bitch: Kady. She had been their favorite snatch after her father, Hereward, withdrew his protection from her over her affair with Cullen Blackwood. Then Kady did the smartest and most unexpected thing she could have: she moved in with Todd and Cahira Sinclair, Kynyr's grandparents as Cahira's apprentice. Roughly a month later, when six of them tried to drag her out of a tavern where she was sitting having a drink with Todd all hell broke loose. Kady kicked Cormic to death and Todd killed Keith Greenlea with a single blow. Two of Claw's guardsmyn, Erskine Faraday and Robert Morcar apprehended Iollen and Donald Greenlea on the spot. The other two fled.

  Donald and Iollen were flogged. Donald died. Iollen developed gangrene from his injuries and would have died also, except that Kady cut his arm off to save him. Taking his arm seemed to have squared matters between Iollen and Kady.

  Losing his arm had been the best thing that ever happened to Iollen, because it turned him around and made a better mon of him.

  Wolffgard appeared in front of Iollen and he was able to finally free himself from his musings as he turned onto Main Street.

  * * * *

  Malthus sat in his cottage with Shalto and his gangthere would be no more outdoor meetings where someone might stumble upon them together. A grim mood gripped them. They tortured him to death. Malthus stared into his tankard. I tried to reach him, but he was too closely guarded."

  "Do you think he told them anything? Shalto asked.

  "Yren died courageously, telling them nothing. Malthus looked around at each of them and decided to drop some choice tidbits the Readers had told Claw. They are saying that one of the torturers broke his ribs, a piece of it punctured his lungs, and he drowned in his own blood."

  Rheu flinched and nestled closer in Preece's arms.

  Anger drove Shalto midway into the change and he snarled. I'd like to stick old Claw for this."

  "His time is coming. Malthus poisonous smile surprised all of them. I'm going to pay him back for Yren. A life for a life. His or his sisters lives. Two for one? All for one? I'm going to kill Kynyr and rite Kady for Heironim and Alex. They'll all pay in blood.

  "What do you mean? Preece inquired softly.

  "He's dying. The healer says he won't make it to midwinter."

  "What's wrong with him? Shalto leaned closer to Malthus.

  "His heart is failing. They don't want people knowing about it. If something upset him strongly enough, the old bastard would fall over dead. It would distress everyone in the manor if word of it got out."

  Preece's eyes glittered and he tongued his lips. That can be arranged."

  "We need to increase our numbers, said Malthus. Each of you should bring a friend you trust to the next meeting. One of those who regularly uses the camp females. Next time we meet, I want the full membership, not just the leaders."

  "What about Torquil? What are we going to do about Torquil?"

  Malthus eyes darkened. Kynyr Maguire killed Torquil."

  "We ought to send him a message, said Shalto.

  * * * *

  Iollen had never liked Baroucha Seaver and used to go to great lengths not to park his wagon in front of her shop. When Baroucha died without heirs, the crown had seized the shop and sold it. Iollen glanced up at the sign that read Scarlet Angel Mage shop and wondered what Kady wanted from the place.

  As he stepped inside, Iollen noticed the extensive changes that had been made to Baroucha's shop by the new owner. A sign hung from the ceiling above a square table situated in the near left that depicted a palm with the lines marked in dark ink. Shelves lined the walls and an array of long tables and short cabinets filled the center. The shop had incense and herbs, potions and elixirs, stones, cauldrons, athames, and other items used in various rites. Beaded curtains had replaced the side door into the rest of the building and the back door into the workroom. The place smelled pleasantly of sandalwood.

  A slender dark human emerged from the backroom and bowed to Iollen. He was a small mon in a knee-length brown tunic, split to his hips for riding, over a pair of loose-legged trousers stuffed into short boots. His narrow beardless face had an effeminate sensuality, full pouting lips, and a long, straight nose. Large, long-lashed eyes the color of glistening black pearls dominated his features. Welcome. I am the proprietor, Luciano Albertus."

  Luciano extended his hand to shake Iollen's, which brought a flinch, and then Luciano offered his other hand. So sorry. I didn't notice."

  Iollen shook hands. I have a list from Kady Maguire."

  He fished the paper out and gave it to Luciano.

  Luciano skimmed the list and gestured at a chair. Sit. This will not take long."

  Iollen watched him busying around, filling the counter with bottles, measuring herbs and spices from large green glass containers into jars.

  "Where are you from?"

  Luciano paused and smiled at him. Skullbones. I had a mage shop there. My family owned it for six generations."

  "War make you move?"

  "Partly. Luciano measured a liquid into a bottle. I also wanted to get away from my father."

  "Parents can be difficult."

  Luciano laughed at the rueful tone in Iollen's voice. Mine was a mage."

  "Was?"

  "I guess you could say he still is."

  Iollen started to feel a bit confused. Are you a mage?"

  Luciano's soft laugh came again. No. I'm a spiritworker. But I know the business."

  "That means you see ghosts and such?"

  "Precisely. Luciano paused with a small bow. Anyway, as I was saying, Lemyari have a taste for mages. One night my father disappeared and three days later he bit me."

  "You've been bitten by a vampire? Iollen about fell over in surprise.

  "Well, yes. But he told me that I tasted bad and never came back."

  Iollen choked on a laugh and it emerged as a half-stifled chuckle. Tasted bad?"

  "Well, yes. You've never heard the old saying that spiritworkers taste bad?"

  "Can't say I have."

  "Well, they do. All hemovores agree, spiritworkers taste bad and we do. I suppose that is something in our favor."

  By the time that Luciano finished filling his order; Iollen had decided that he liked him.

  Iollen stepped outside
with his carrying sack over his shoulder.

  "Hello, Cripple."

  Iollen turned, his insides going cold as ice. He had half expected it to be Preece, but found himself facing Shalto, Oswyl, and two others that he did not know. What do you want?"

  "A friend of ours was killed. You remember Torquil?"

  "I heard about it. Iollen dropped his sack over the side of the wagon.

  "Look at me when I'm talking to you. Shalto grabbed Iollen and spun him about.

  "Getting a bit big for your britches, Shalto?"

  "I need to send a message to Maguire. Guess what? You're it."

  Shalto hit Iollen, sending him sprawling into the dirt.

  Iollen tried to roll aside as Shalto and the others began kicking him. Each blow brought a grunt of pain from Iollen. The blows seemed to come from all directions.

  "Stop that! Luciano came outside and stood on the boardwalk.

  The blows ceased as the gang turned to see who had spoken.

  "Make me. Shalto kicked Iollen again.

  Then Iollen saw the strangest bit of fighting he had ever seen in his life. Luciano started spinning and windmilling around and hit Shalto with both fists and both feet in dizzying succession, again and again and again until Shalto lay unmoving on the ground. Oswyl gestured surrender and shouldered his cousin, walking off with him.

  Iollen accepted a hand up from Luciano. What the hell was that?"

  "Whirling Crane form. Luciano grinned and gave a small bow with an impish grin.

  "Well, I'll be damned. Iollen scratched his head, looking more confused by the moment. Where'd you learn that?"

  "Creeya. I studied under StealsThunder."

  "He must be some teacher."

  "She. And yes, she is."

  "You should come out to the house and show that one to Trevor."

  * * * *

  In the shadows of a tangled hawthorn hedgerow so dense that it formed a fence for cattle, Malthus spread a blanket on the ground and sat a wicker basket in the center as if for a midnight picnic in the manner of a lycan tryst. The Maguire estate began on the other side with orderly rows of fruit trees. Their orchards included apples, pears, plums, cherries and mulberries, as well as quince and medlar. Close to the house were rows of walnut trees.

  Larena appeared in answer to his come-hither. She had thrown a hooded cloak over her dressing robe and the nightgown beneath it. It was chill with a tang of imminent frost in the crisp night air.

  Malthus pushed her down onto the blanket and took his pleasures before tightening more knots of coercions in her brain, bringing out the jealous darkness in her heart and soul.

  "You've been thrown upon the kind mercies of your sister. The slut has become a princess and what are you? Nothing."

  "I hate Kady."

  "You must take every thing she loves away from her. Revenge, Larena."

  "Yes."

  "I have the means."

  He gave her a small bottle with a dropper. Six drops in Kynyr's drink as often as you can manage."

  "Poison?"

  "A subtle poison. It mimics Black Mountain Fever."

  "Kynyr will die."

  "And Kady will cry. Malthus smiled at the rhyme he had made.

  * * * *

  Kynyr called the L-shaped room his study. He had divided it into three sections by the arrangement of the furniture. The front section had been turned into a place to sit and talk, a sofa and three chairs framed a low table. In the center corner sat his desk and on the right hand, bookcases lined the walls.

  The bookcases were more empty than full. He had only just begun to accumulate books of his own to put upon the shelves. Mostly the new pressed books from Creeya. A few of the books provoked moments of melancholy in Kynyr, because they had belonged to his father. His mother, Ulicia, had given them to him after his father's death. There were too many memories attached to each volume. Those that hurt him most to look at had been turned backwards so that he would not accidentally read the titles and feel the fullness of his grief. With so many dangers surrounding him, Kynyr could not yet afford to give himself a moment to grieve fully. So he resisted it and all its symbols.

  Branduff Maguire had been a schoolteacher.

  Branduff had walked out of his schoolroom one day to speak to the captain of a unit of Waejontori cavalry that appeared unforeseen on Red Wolf soil, hoping to buy time for the cubs to escape out the back door. The soldiers had killed him, but the cubs got away unharmed.

  Kynyr, Trevor, and Iollen sat alone there, clustered around the low table and sharing a bottle of good whiskey. Iollen had been lucky, sustaining only bruises and no broken bones. Kynyr knew that would not have been the case had Luciano not intervened.

  "Tell it again. Kynyr poured whiskey for the three of them.

  Iollen Newell sat on the sofa across from Kynyr and Trevor. It had taken three whiskeys to stop Iollen from shaking once he got home and reaction set in. There isn't much to tell. I think I've said it all."

  Kynyr nodded, his eyes distant and considering as he sipped his drink. So they were going to send me a message. Over Torquil?"

  "That's what Shalto said. He's getting as bad as Preece."

  "No mention of Malthus?"

  "None."

  "So I still don't have anything that would justify arresting Malthus."

  "And we still don't have a lawgiver, Trevor added. What's happening with that?"

  "Claw's sent couriers to all the villages and towns that have several."

  Lawgivers were chosen by the placement of the stars and other omens, and trained by the oldest lawgiver in the community. It was not a simple matter to get another one. Kynyr wondered if what he sawthe process of choosing lawgiverswas in danger of becoming another of their lost customs.

  Taking the law into his own hands as he was doing by hunting down Caimbeul's murderers would offend Pandeena. She had made it clear that she would not hold with private justice and the abandonment of traditional laws and customs. So, although Kynyr knew what she and some of her companions were, he felt that he could not go to them.

  Kynyr felt certain that the clues to the truth regarding Malthus were all around him and he was missing them. Caimbeul and Nikko must have gotten too close to the truth and that was why they had been removed from the equation. If he could just figure out what they had learned, then he would have the key to it all.

  "So what are we going to do next, Kynyr? Trevor leaned forward in his seat.

  "Take out the rest of the Lycamornots and see what effect that has on Malthus and the Sanctuary. Kynyr considered a bit more and added, Iollen, I don't want you going into town alone. Not for any reason."

  * * * *

  Couriers had begun going back and forth between Red Wolf and the occupying MacLachlan forces in Hell's Widow as soon as Kynyr returned home and informed Claw that the road was now safe. The first snows had arrived, slowing trade and travel to a trickle, despite the fact that it had melted by midday.

  Conversations with Captain Artemisia Leonidian had revealed to Artair MacFie that the region was in far more of a shambles than the Sharani, who had occupied it for close to thirty years, wanted known. The Mar'ajan of Danai province had jurisdiction over it. The regent had hared off to the Great Plains in search of her long lost sister, Tomyris Danae de Dovane, as soon as Tomyris daughter came of age to rule. That should have worked fine, except that Tomyris daughter Reynan had vanished soon after that. Reynan's relatives were jockeying for position to control the province, and the military government of the occupied sectors of Waejontor had been left in the lurch. Artemisia had attempted to bypass the confusion by sending couriers directly to the Saer'Ajan, Zaren Asharen, but had yet to hear back.

  With winter arriving, Darcy had managed to table the discussion of going home until spring. Yet, the more that Artair learned from Artemisia, the more troubled he became. The three brothers missed Fergus, and while on the one hand they blamed Darcy for his death, on the other hand, they knew that Darcy had simp
ly been being Darcyheadstrong, reckless, and impulsive.

  Artair strolled through the hallway of the Three Candles Inn with his brothers, tapping his chin. Darcy got another letter from Finn MacIver. You keep her busy. I want to see what it said."

  Tobrytan responded with a droll smile. Your funeral if she catches you."

  "I'll chance it. Take her for a walk or something. Get her out of the building."

  Eanruig gave one of his tilted nods. We'll think of something."

  Artair waited until he saw his brothers leave with Darcy, and then he stole into her rooms. The outer room had a desk in one corner, two cabinets, and a dresser. He went to the desk and sat down in the small wooden chair behind it. Pulling open the middle drawer, Artair grinned at the bit of luck that led him there first, for a small stack of letters lay within it. He sucked in a small breath of excitement at his own audacity, took the top one, and opened it.

  My Dearest Darcy,

  The fairest apples of Idyn pale before the beauty of your breasts. Your lips are like the reddest rose and your nipples are sweet carnations blooming. The heaven that dwells within your loins fills my dreams with longing to be once more within you.

  Your laugh, your wit, your fire inflames me with desire. I spend sleepless nights thinking of you.

  Always Faithful,

  Finn MacIver

  "Educated sod. I never expected that. Artair scanned the letter again, and realization hit him between the eyes. They're sleeping together."

  Artair took a deep breath, listened for the sounds of anyone approaching and read another one and then another. They were all love letters, filled with poetry and nonsense. Deciding that he had already been there too long, he shoved the letters back into the drawer and fled.

  Once he had got back to his own rooms, Artair realized that he was shaking. None of them had ever tried to go against Darcy directly since they were children. That had been Fergus job. He remembered the time that Fergus had knocked her down and sat on her to force a promise of good behavior.

  Artair found himself torn between laughing at the memory, and shedding tears over Fergus. Gods, Fergus, we're in such a damn pickle without you."

  He fetched a bottle of whiskey and three glasses, knowing his brothers would be along soon. The first drink steadied Artair and he began considering the implications of the letters he had read. Eanruig's suggestion of foisting her off on MacIver appealed to Artair more and more. He had written their chieftain, Duncan MacLachlan about the situation between Darcy and Brodrig, but getting an answer could take weeks.