Black Wolf

Chapter 15

Tarsakh, 1372 DR

Ronan's face was lily pale. Brigid and Karnek supported him on either side, practically carrying him along the street. Darrow led the way, while Sorcia lagged behind to watch for any sign that the Scepters were following.

"We're going the wrong way," said Karnek. "I thought you knew this city."

"In there," said Darrow, indicating a vacant alley as they approached the Oxblood Quarter. "We'll wait until sunset, then circle back."

"He's still bleeding," protested Brigid.

"You want to draw a big red line between us and the playhouse?" asked Darrow. "Here, lay him down, behind that pile of skins."

"Who put you in charge?" demanded Karnek. He and Brigid lowered Ronan to the ground.

"Rusk did," said Sorcia.

It wasn't strictly true, but Darrow was glad she had said it. Then he wondered why. Sorcia did nothing without a reason.

"He said nothing about leading the hunt," said Brigid. "He told you only to lead us to Uskevren."

She pulled the bloody tunic away from Ronan's ruined abdomen. Through the ragged wounds, Darrow glimpsed Ronan's glistening intestines. The sight would have made him retch a year earlier, but he had seen far worse since he'd started running with the pack.

"It wasn't a hunt," said Darrow. "Rusk said nothing about fighting him. Great Malar! Uskevren is the one who took off Rusk's arm. What were you trying to do down there?"

"Rusk said to test him," said Karnek. His tone changed from defiant to defensive.

He surrendered his own tunic to Brigid, who folded it before pressing it against Ronan's abdomen. Ronan gasped.

"He said 'take his measure,' " said Darrow, "not provoke him into eviscerating you."

"What were we supposed to learn by watching him strut about and play at fighting?" Brigid had lost none of her anger, but she sounded uncertain.

"Keep your voice down," hissed Sorcia, watching the alley entrance.

"Don't tell me what to do, bitch," said Brigid.

The big blonde woman was almost twice the size of the pale elf. Darrow had little doubt of which one would win in a straight fight.

"Stop it, both of you," he said. "What's important is to get back without being seen. The last thing we need is to cross Lord Malveen."

"I'm not afraid of Malveen," said Karnek.

He had never even seen the strange vampire whose home they claimed as their lair in the city. Rusk planned to face him after sunset, which was soon approaching. The rest of the pack awaited their return in the abandoned warehouse.

"Then you're more stupid than I thought," said Darrow.

When darkness came, they crept out of the alley. Ronan was too weak to walk, but his bleeding had subsided. The trauma left him muttering and confused, but he might survive the night if Rusk could heal him in time. They kept to side streets when possible, but Darrow abandoned stealth for the broader avenues when traffic seemed light. When passing other pedestrians was unavoidable, Darrow raised his voice in slurred song, hoping observers would mistake them for a group of drunks carrying their friend home. It was a thin ruse, but Karnek joined him in it, and at least Brigid stopped complaining until they reached the warehouse district. There they fell silent and crept through the shadows until they reached House Malveen.

The looming edifice was much as Darrow remembered it. The shape of the piled cargo had changed, but there was still so much that the inner court was completely obscured from the street. They wound their way through the narrow alleys of crates and barrels to the main building.

Inside, the rest of the pack awaited them.

"Where's Rusk?" demanded Brigid. Beside her, Karnek carried the unconscious Ronan in his arms.

Several fingers pointed to the west door. Only Darrow had been beyond it, and even he had been forbidden to enter. Rusk did not want the rest of the pack within the bounds of Stannis's wards.

"We have to wait," said Sorcia.

"He'll die," protested Brigid.

"Then he dies," said Sorcia. "He did it to himself."

"I'll go," said Darrow. "Lord Malveen's minions might let me pass."

"And if they don't?" asked Sorcia.

"Then I'll have to kill them, won't I?"

Sorcia was unimpressed by his bravado, but Brigid and Karnek both gave him a long look. He saw something resembling respect in their eyes.

Darrow did not tell them that he was betting Stannis had not changed the wards that allowed his servant access. Even if Rusk told the vampire that Darrow still lived, Lord Malveen would hardly consider Darrow a threat worth refreshing the wards for.

At least, that was his gamble. He walked through the door to the River Hall before he could change his mind.

To his relief, Darrow set off no wards while passing into the outer reaches of the River Hall, but Stannis had not left the door unattended. Two dark figures crawled down from the ceiling, where they had been lurking in the shadows. One hissed at him.

"I bring tidings for Lord Malveen," said Darrow.

He hoped the monsters recognized him and assumed he was still one of the master's servants. The vampire spawn stared at him through slitted eyes, but they slunk back toward the promenade. Darrow followed. Soon he heard Rusk's low voice and the familiar, breathless sound of Stannis Malveen. Their conversation paused when they heard him approach. Darrow joined them at the end of the grand pool.

"What a pleasant surprise!" cooed Stannis.

The vampire had not changed in the year since Darrow left his service, though there were a few new additions to the furnishings in the River Hall. Stannis draped himself in a damp crimson cloak the size of a tapestry, and he reclined on a new, larger fainting couch whose legs bowed under his weight.

Stannis rolled onto his back and pressed his rubbery fingers together. The tip of his brown-black tail switched back and forth.

"My brother let me believe you met with an unfortunate accident when you escorted him to the Arch Wood last spring."

"It was no accident, my lord," said Darrow with a bow. Such gestures made it easier for him to disguise his revulsion at his former master's appearance.

"However have you kept such splendid manners while living amongst the beasts, my dear boy?"

Stannis dipped a hand into a large basin beside the couch and withdrew a writhing sea worm. He slipped it through his veil of golden chains. With an awful sucking sound, the worm vanished like a pink tongue.

In the past year, Darrow had done many things that would have horrified him before. Still, Stannis made his blood run co,ld.

"Where are my manners?" Stannis said. "Here I am, basking in the pleasure of your company when I am not the only one who would enjoy it. I believe another of our guests would be most eager to see you again, my courteous boy. You recall Maelin?"

"I thought…"

Darrow only now realized how much he had hoped against reason that she was still alive. The sudden joy was muddied by the realization that she remained a captive. The guilt Darrow felt at leaving her behind returned as an overwhelming pressure on his chest. Again his emotions shifted, and a frail hope occurred to him. If he could free her, perhaps he would deserve freedom also.

"I mean," Darrow continued, "I presumed she was meant to be one of your brother's sparring partners."

"Oh, yes," said Stannis, "she was indeed. But after he was so careless with my favorite servant, I decided to keep her for myself. Petty of me, I know, but Radu must be reminded that he is not the only one who can be cruel. Besides, I knew she might prove useful once again, as your new master's return proves."

"That's what I wish to discuss," said Rusk.

"As well as the matter of my permission for your 'People' to lair within my property," said Stannis. His tone indicated he did not take the uninvited arrival of more than a dozen werewolves lightly.

"You were the one who sent-" began Rusk.

"Of course, Lord Malveen," interrupted Darrow. He made his apology to Rusk with a quick glance. "We did not wish to disturb you during the day, yet we also did not wish to draw attention to your home. So we took shelter where you were so gracious as to house our Huntmaster last year, counting on your generosity to forgive our presumption."

"You haven't been in the woods all this time, have you? I think you spent the winter at court in Ordulin, practicing your courtesies for all the fine ladies." Stannis waved toward a cabinet, and one of his spawn emerged from the shadows to fetch a decanter and goblets.

"What happened at the playhouse?" asked Rusk at last.

"Ronan is hurt and needs your help," said Barrow.

Rusk glowered at him, awaiting an explanation. Darrow decided to leave the details for the others to explain.

Rusk rose ominously from his chair to tower over Darrow. "Where is the Black Wolf?"

Darrow realized his mistake at once. He should never have returned without locating Talbot Uskevren after the fight.

"The Scepters were summoned," said Darrow. "He was probably arrested."

A vein pulsed in the center of Rusk's brow. "Find him."

"If I might suggest an alternative," said Stannis, raising one finger. The digit swayed like the tendril of an anemone in the current. "There is a much more expedient way to determine whether young Uskevren is in the local jail."

"Very well," said Rusk. "I want to know before dusk tomorrow. The night of the Black Wolf is almost upon us. I want him flushed out, not locked up. Come, Darrow. Let's see what our friend has done to Ronan."

"Might I detain your young friend for a while?" asked Stannis. His emphasis on the word "your" held just a hint of bitterness. His golden eyes fell upon Darrow.

When Rusk hesitated, he added, "I promise not to do anything unseemly to him."

"Very well," said Rusk with only the barest hint of reluctance.

Perhaps he thought it fitting punishment for Darrow's bungled scouting mission. He stalked back to the warehouse, growling at the spawn who did not get out of his way quickly enough.

"You have pleased me," Stannis said to Darrow, "and you shall have a reward. Go down and have your visit. No doubt you have many tales to share. You do remember the way?"

"I do, my lord," said Darrow.

Stannis made a show of removing the prison key and handing it over.

"Be sure to leave enough time to come back and repeat them all for me. I have been so dreadfully lonely."

Maelin was the only occupant of the cells beside the baiting pit. Her confinement had transformed her every bit as much as Darrow's year in the woods had changed him. Where once her face was flush with life, blanched flesh now stretched taut over hollow cheeks. Her hair had grown to touch her shoulders, but it was limp and dirty. Even her eyes seemed to have faded in the darkness, and she looked at Darrow for long seconds before recognition filled them.

"So you aren't dead after all."

"Nor you," said Darrow. Her listless greeting was disappointing, but he knew it was because she was on the brink of despair. "I thought you'd have faced Radu by now."

"Stannis wouldn't let him," said Maelin. "I begged him to let me fight back when I still had a chance."

"You never had a chance," said Darrow. "Even if you could beat Radu, Stannis would never let you go. He needs you to get to the Uskevren."

"Don't say that," said Maelin. "I can't bear to believe it. At least if there was a chance…"

She tried to raise her hands, but even the simple gesture was too much. Her arms hung lamely at her sides as she leaned against the back wall of the cell. It seemed much bigger than Barrow remembered, but so did her cot, her clothes, and everything else around her shriveled body. Whoever-or whatever-had tended her in his absence had obviously taken no pains to keep her well fed.

"I'm going to get you out of here," he said. He watched her face, knowing the promise would give her hope.

She raised her head to look at him. Her mouth widened, and her body convulsed. It was all the strength she had to laugh.

"I'll help you," he said. "The whole pack will help you."

Maelin's silent laughter continued until it turned into a wracking cough. When she had recovered, she asked, "Pack of what?"

Darrow told her.

When Darrow returned from the baiting pit cells, Stan-nis was nowhere to be seen. Briefly he debated waiting, knowing that Stannis would be displeased if he crept away without sharing the "gossip" of his past year. Then he realized he still had the key to the cells. He clutched it tightly and returned to the warehouse.

The vast, cluttered room was filled with angry voices. The pack stood around Ronan's body.

"All goes as planned," bellowed Rusk. His body surged with magical strength, and Darrow realized at once how he had dealt with the disobedient Ronan.

"What do you mean?" said Brigid. "Was Ronan's death as planned? He worshiped you, and you took his life!"

"He threw his life away!" thundered Rusk. Then he lowered his voice. "Ronan was a good hunter, but he should not have tried to face the Black Wolf. None shall face him but I. There can be no mistakes."

"Ronan was the strongest!" shouted Brigid.

Several others nodded at her words. Darrow caught Sor-cia's eye. The white wolf had avoided Rusk since their first encounter with Maleva, but he was certain she was still sowing discord among the pack.

"You sent him to die while you hid in this filthy vampire's lair," Brigid accused.

Rusk stepped toward the defiant nightwalker. "You were sent to scatter the herd from their pen," he thundered. "Ronan almost ruined everything when he forgot there was a wolf among the sheep."

"Is that what happened when he cut off your arm?" she spat. Despite her defiance, she flinched in anticipation of a physical rebuke.

Rusk surprised them all by not lashing out. "Yes, I too was hasty," he admitted. He turned, raising his voice and gesturing toward his missing arm. "And Malar demanded a sacrifice from me as well. That sacrifice brought us the Black Wolf Scrolls, and from them we know the night of our triumph is nigh. Ronan has made his own sacrifice, as will all who jeopardize the fulfillment of the prophecy."

"You keep telling us about this prophecy," said Morrel. He and Sorcia had been whispering earlier, but Darrow noticed she was nowhere near him when he stepped forward now. "What if it's only a myth? What if you have the time wrong? We are far from our own territory."

"This is our territory," said Rusk, "and so is all of the land, the wild and the city alike. I shall face the Black Wolf on the appointed night. Only then will the will of Malar be revealed."

"You mean the will of Rusk, don't you?" said Morrel.

"I speak the words of Malar," he said. "Do you doubt it?"

Morrel met the Huntmaster's eyes only briefly before he turned his face away. Before Rusk could continue, the warehouse door opened. One of Stannis's ghastly minions beckoned for Rusk to follow.

"We will speak more of this later. Come with me," Rusk said to Darrow. Sorcia began to follow him also. "Not you," he told her.

As they left the warehouse, Darrow glanced back at the pack. All of them watched Sorcia as they waited for Rusk to depart.

Inside the great hall, Darrow was not surprised to find Rusk and Stannis arguing, and only slightly surprised to find that Radu had joined them. He knew it was only a matter of time before the younger Malveen became involved, but he had not looked forward to meeting him again. No matter how much stronger Darrow had become in his year of ranging with the pack, he knew he stood no chance if Radu decided to correct the error of his survival.

"We shall all benefit from this endeavor," said Stannis. "Perhaps when all is done, you will let me provide you with sparring partners once more. Perhaps Talbot Uskevren could be the first-"

"No," said Rusk. "After the night of the Black Moon, no one will harm Talbot."

"Then he will be in your control?" inquired Stannis.

"Completely," said Rusk.

From the tiny crinkling at his eyes and the corners of his lips, Darrow sensed the Huntmaster was harboring a secret he had yet to reveal to the pack.

"That is what you promised the first time," observed Radu. He looked pointedly at Darrow. "And it is not the only promise you have broken."

"I agreed that Darrow would be the prey at the High Hunt," said Rusk. He smiled like a chess player who had just made a surprising move. "And so he was. We hunted him, and we caught him."

"We should put an end to all of this," said Radu.

"Two more days," promised Rusk. "When the Black Moon comes, the prophecy shall be fulfilled."

"It occurs to me," said Stannis, "that you have not entirely explained the ultimate outcome of this so-called prophecy."

"You had the scrolls for years," said Rusk. "Did you not read them?"

"Of course I did," said Stannis. "To be blunt, I found them tedious and vague. Naturally, I skimmed all that business with the star charts and the tidal foofaraw. Even so, I wonder that you derive a prophecy from it all. Please, enlighten us as to the particulars."

"The Beastlord is not to be mocked," growled Rusk. "He has revealed his will unto me, and that is enough."

"Give us a hint. Will there be earthquakes and firestorms? I suppose that's really more the domain of Talos the Destroyer. Perhaps Umberlee will donate a tidal wave. I do hope you would warn us if that were the case. What catastrophe would the Beastlord unleash upon a city? A rain of frogs, perhaps?"

"Enough!" roared Rusk.

"Please forgive my beastly manners," said Stannis. "The gods have laughed at me for so long, it only seems fair that I laugh back. What are they without the promise of paradise after death. And what is 'after death,' to me?"

While Stannis baited Rusk, Darrow watched Radu's face. His expression became increasingly calm as he watched his brother the vampire talk with his ally the werewolf For a moment, Darrow felt sympathy for Radu's preposterous circumstance. He was the only human being in the room.

"What will it take to end this?" Radu said.

"I must face Talbot Uskevren," said Rusk. "Tomorrow night, under the open sky."

"Not here," said Radu. "Nowhere near us."

"Agreed," said Rusk. "I have another location in mind."

"And afterward, your pack leaves Selgaunt forever," said Radu.

"Agreed," said Rusk, to Darrow's surprise.

Were his promises of claiming the city as the People's territory lies? Or was he lying now? Darrow realized he had deluded himself into thinking Rusk had taken him into his confidence. He was just as much a servant as he was when he served the Malveens.

"One more thing," said Stannis. "Whatever happens when you face Talbot, it will be unpleasant for him? It will hurt his father?"

"You can consider him dead," said Rusk.

"That isn't as good as tormented," complained Stannis, "but it is something. Very well. He is indeed in the city jail. I have made arrangements for his petition for bail to be delayed until you wish him freed."

"Excellent," said Rusk. "Then all that is left is to flush him out of hiding tomorrow night."

" Too bold to hide,' " quoted Darrow. When the others looked at him, he explained, "The Uskevren family motto."

Rusk laughed. "Indeed," he said. "Let us pray it proves a part of the greater prophecy."

He turned to leave, beckoning Darrow to follow.

"Tut!" clucked Stannis. "Are you not forgetting something, dear Darrow?"

Darrow froze, fearing the worst. He was nearly right.

"You forgot to return my key."

"Of course, Lord Malveen." Darrow produced the key and returned it to the vampire, careful to avoid touching his cold, black fingers. "How forgetful of me."

"Indeed," agreed Stannis, gazing thoughtfully at him.

Darrow held his tongue until he and Rusk were out of the Malveen brothers' hearing. Before they returned to the warehouse, he stopped and sniffed for any scent of the spawn before daring to speak.

"Huntmaster," he said, "I have a boon to ask."

Rusk raised an eyebrow.

"Their hostage," he said. "They'll have no more use for her once you've dealt with Uskevren. Let her join the pack."

"What have you done to earn this favor?" demanded Rusk.

"I have been loyal," said Darrow.

"Do you suggest that others have not?" His tone hinted at a test. Darrow knew he must not fail it.

"Sorcia," he said. "She is trying to turn the others against you. She says you are mad."

Rusk nodded. "She is not the only one, is she?"

"She's the only one who says it," said Darrow, "but others are beginning to believe her. They are beginning to doubt you."

"Do you doubt me?" He fixed his eyes on Darrow's face.

Darrow took a breath before answering. He could not lie, but he feared telling the truth. "I sometimes… doubt the prophecy, Huntmaster, but I will follow you through it, no matter what happens."

"You betray the others to me, yet you swear you remain loyal when they will not." A smile slowly formed on Rusk's face. "I will consider your boon. First, however, I have a task for you. I do not trust your former masters, yet I know how much you fear them. Do you have the courage to turn against them?"

Darrow thought of Maelin and her gratitude upon her rescue. "I do, Huntmaster."

Tracking by scent was virtually impossible in the city. Chimney smoke, nightsoil, cooking fires, and a thousand other pungent odors foiled Darrow's senses. Darrow could never have discerned his own footsteps among the clamor of voices and the rattling carriages that passed along the street. He relied solely on sight to follow Radu through the streets of Selgaunt.

Fortunately, Radu made no effort to hide himself as he left House Malveen and took Larawkan Street out of the Warehouse District. He turned onto Vandallan Lane soon after entering central Selgaunt. It was less congested than the main thoroughfare but still provided ample cover for Darrow, who stayed well behind Radu, matching speed with carts or small clusters of pedestrians whenever possible. They provided even better cover than the brush in woods, since they moved with him. Darrow saw more clearly than ever how much the city and the wild had in common.

Darrow followed Radu west through the Central District, then north, skirting the eastern border of the Oxblood Quarter. The streets narrowed and the crowds thickened, as did the smell of livestock, tanning acids, and dyes.

As they crossed into the Oxblood Quarter, Darrow lost sight of Radu. He approached the spot where he'd last seen Radu, careful not to blunder into an ambush. He knew better than anyone that his former master was not to be underestimated. From that point, there were three likely places for Radu to have disappeared: a leather goods store, a butcher's shop, and the alley between them.

Darrow walked past the alley with his face turned away, toward the street. He turned at the next alley. The other side opened into a filthy yard shared by the nearby shops. The mingled chemical and animal smells made Darrow's head pound, but the walls muted the clamor of the streets. He cocked his head and listened. At first he heard nothing and wished he could take wolf form before the moon rose. Then he heard a stifled cry from another alley across the yard. Keeping low, he crept nearer.

"… see you there," said a wavering male voice.

"Who gave you the money?" asked Radu.

Darrow heard the clink of heavy coins in a bag. He peeked around the corner. A slender, balding man of forty or fifty years stood in the middle of the alley. His long, thin face was pale with fright, and his hands trembled as he gripped a big leather satchel.

His resemblance to Maelin was slight. They had the same prominent eyelids and narrow nose, but her mother must have contributed everything else, including her strong will. If his personality matched his looks, Darrow understood why fiery Maelin could not bear to acknowledge her father.

"Lady Shamur," said Eckert. "She also sent a message to Lord Uskevren in Ordulin. He should return tomorrow."

Radu nodded. Darrow couldn't see his face but knew from experience that it betrayed no emotion.

"What of the cleric?"

"She came to the tallhouse. She seemed agitated about something, but she wouldn't say what. I told her nothing about the arrest. When she asked after Master Talbot, I said he was spending the evening at Stormweather Towers."

"Very good," said Radu. "Give me the money."

"Where is Maelin?" said Eckert. He clutched the bag of coins against his chest.

"You will see her soon."

"The sending said this would be the last task."

"It will be," promised Radu, drawing his sword.

"Wait!" the thin man dropped the satchel.

Radu struck before it hit the ground, and Eckert gasped. Before he could touch the wound beneath his heart, Radu's sword licked out again, piercing him high on the left breast. The third stroke cut through Eckert's hand and pierced his heart.

Radu plucked a handkerchief from his sleeve and used it to wipe his blade clean as Eckert stood silent and gaping. Radu dropped the bloodied cloth as he watched the man sink to his knees. At last he sheathed the weapon and picked up the bag.

Darrow ducked into a cellar stairwell. When he heard the faint jingling of the coins recede across the yard, he peeked out and saw that Radu was gone. He hurried to the dying man's side, but a woman was hurrying toward him from the street side of the alley.

"Get away from him!" snapped the woman. She flung open her blue cloak and put a hand on the silver talisman that hung from a chain around her neck.

"Don't!" said Darrow. He kept his hands away from his sword, snatched Radu's discarded handkerchief, and pressed it against the thin man's bloody chest. "I didn't do this."

"Maelin…" gasped Eckert. A sickening wheezing came from the man's chest, and a mist of blood sprayed from the sucking wound. Blood pooled on the ground beneath him, soaking Darrow's breeches at the knees.

"Get away, I said!" She pushed Darrow away, intoning a prayer to Selune as she pressed her bare hand against the thin man's chest.

Silver light surged within her hand, then spread across the thin man's chest. Darrow watched as she said the prayer again, and more radiant energy passed from the cleric to the wounded man. At last, the blood stopped pouring from the man, and his breathing became steady.

"Will he live?" asked Darrow.

"Depends on what he has to tell me about what we just saw," said the woman angrily. She fixed her blue eyes on Darrow. "The same goes for you, nightwalker."

"How did you know-?"

The woman cast another spell, this time summoning a blade of white light to her empty hand. "Where is Rusk?" she demanded.

"Listen," he said, backing up and holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. "We can help each other."

"I'm listening," she said. "Make it good, and make it quick. I'll probably kill you anyway."

"You don't need to kill me. I-"

"Maybe not," interrupted the woman, "but I might want to. Now talk."