Black Wolf

Chapter 19

Tarsakh, 1372 DR

At first, Darrow feared he might have the wrong street. In the afternoon light, there was no question of identifying a known house, but he knew Talbot Uskevren's tallhouse only by description. Alaspar Lane seemed right, but he wasn't sure which one he wanted until he saw the guards.

He spotted the family guards first. They made no effort to bide. Two of them stood to either side of the front door of the three-story building, while two more guarded either end of the lane. Their bright blue cloaks and yellow horse-at-anchor emblems marked them clearly as Uskevren house guards. Their conspicuous locations confirmed Barrow's suspicion that they were posted more to warn Talbot off than to apprehend him.

The Scepters were somewhat subtler. Four of them stood in a cluster across the street from the tallhouse. If there were others, they were well hidden at the farthest range of a signal whistle. From the occasional glances the Scepters cast at the Uskevren house guards, Darrow saw that there was little affection between the two camps. He wondered briefly whether the guard would fight the Scepters to cover the young man's escape if he were so foolish as to show himself.

“Too bold to hide," murmured Darrow. It seemed a ridiculous motto for any of the Old Chauncel, whose successes more often depended on diplomacy and bidding wars than military conflicts.

Most house militia were simply bodyguards, but something about the proud posture of the Uskevren men made Darrow wonder just how much provocation it would take to ignite a conflict like those that had brought low both House Uskevren and House Malveen a generation earlier. Perversely, he wished Stannis Malveen were present so he could ask his opinion. Of course, Lord Malveen would never show himself in the daylight.

Unless Talbot was much slipperier than Darrow expected, there was no way he'd find shelter at his tall-house with so many eyes upon it. There was one other obvious place for the fugitive Uskevren to take shelter. Fortunately, it was not far away.

Darrow had no reason to fear the guards, so he walked down the lane between them. Too bold to hide, he joked silently. That would make a good motto for the pack, who walked boldly through the herd here in Selgaunt. None of the lambs realized there were wolves among them, and they wouldn't-not until the wolves chose to reveal themselves.

When he arrived at the playhouse, Darrow found the outer court deserted. A sign over each entrance read CLOSED in big letters, followed by a flowery apology written in fine calligraphy. Rather than approach closely enough to read the words, Darrow walked to the tiny park nearby and found an unoccupied bench. The seat afforded him a good view of the rear entrance and one of the public entrances.

Darrow watched for almost an hour. No one entered or left the building in that time, and he saw no sign of city Scepters watching the place. That surprised him, since the playhouse seemed an obvious haven for Talbot Uskevren. Either the Scepters underestimated the strength of his connection to the place, or they considered it an unlikely refuge for other reasons. Or, thought Darrow, they had someone adept at remaining unseen watching the place.

When the sun touched the horizon, Darrow knew he could wait no longer. If Feena and Talbot had returned to the city, as he assumed they would, then he knew of no other place they might hide. If they hadn't gotten into the playhouse earlier in the day, he thought it unlikely they would try so close to dusk. The moon would rise soon after dark, and it was far more difficult to resist the call of the beast on a full moon than it was to summon the transformation on other nights. What he had to do was hard enough without his suddenly turning into the wolf.

One last look around revealed no suspicious figures, so Darrow went to the back door of the playhouse. Like the others, it bore a sign and an apology for the cancelled performances. Darrow beat on the door with his fist. He waited a moment, then banged again.

A big woman with biceps like catapult shots opened the door. Darrow recognized her as one of the players, the infamous Mistress Quickly herself. He had seen her perform in both male and female roles each time he'd come to the playhouse as Stannis Malveen's eyes in the city. She clenched a straight-stemmed pipe between her jaws. The smoking bowl bobbed as she spoke through gritted teeth.

"Closed, it says." She pointed to the sign and blew smoke out her nostrils.

"I know," he said. "I'm a friend of Talbot Uskevren. I have an important mess-"

"You thought wrong, sweetie," she said, closing the door in his face.

Darrow got a foot inside the jamb before it shut. He sniffed deeply, trying to scent past the stink of pipe smoke and the woman's garlic breath. Besides the strong smell of greasepaint and timbers, he detected the odor of human sweat and something else. Mingled among the other smells was the musk of two different kinds of animals. One was a strange smell, oily and somehow hot. The other was the more familiar musk of wolves, including one particular wolf.

"Much as I hate to bust up a potential customer," said the woman, Til rattle your head on the street if you don't back off."

She pushed the door open, shoving Darrow back. She was even stronger than she looked, maybe even stronger than Darrow.

"I know he's here!" he said more loudly than she obviously liked. She looked left and right. Seeing no witnesses, she cocked a fist and prepared to bludgeon Darrow.

"Is he alone?" asked someone behind Quickly. Darrow recognized Feena's voice.

"Yeah," answered Quickly. "Nothing I can't handle on my own."

"Let him in," said Feena.

"Yer kiddin', right?"

"No," said Feena. "He's here to help."

Darrow gave the red-haired cleric a grateful srnile.^

"Sure about that?" asked Quickly. She took the pipe from her mouth and blew a stream of smoke at Darrow through the gap in her big front teeth.

"No," said Feena, "but if he's not, it'll be better to kill him inside."

Darrow realized he had not won the cleric's trust, but the fervor with which she threatened him still scared him. He had thought Selune was a gentle goddess. Perhaps she made an exception when one of her clerics had been slain.

"Good enough for me," rumbled Quickly. She slapped Darrow smartly on the buttocks. "Get in there, boy."

Inside, they led him out onto the stage and into the yard. Waiting in the lower gallery was a small group of men and women, along with a short, green-skinned creature with a wild black mane. The beast hissed at Darrow as he approached.

"Easy, Lommy," said Talbot Uskevren. He sat in the second row, surrounded by the others. Across his knees he held the biggest sword Darrow had ever seen. It looked impossible to wield, even in two hands. Talbot scratched the little creature behind the ears. "Go upstairs and make sure he wasn't followed." Lommy scrambled up the nearest pillar as nimbly as any monkey.

Talbot stood up and set the monstrous sword aside as easily as if it were a walking stick. He was at least as tall as the Huntmaster, and even more powerfully muscled. Darrow felt the same sense of foreboding as he did when in the presence of Rusk or Stannis. This man could kill him in a second.

"I saw you in the playhouse last night," said Tal. "You were with the white-haired elf."

"Yes," said Darrow.

Talbot looked ready to ask something else, but Feena interrupted. "Is it true what your friend said about killing my mother?"

"Your mother?" he asked.

"Maleva. He said you killed Maleva."

"Rusk said she was your teacher…" said Darrow. "He didn't tell us she was…"

"So it's true," she said. Her voice turned cold.

Darrow nodded slowly. "Rusk killed her, yes. She tried to stop us from coming to the city."

"But you helped," said Talbot. "You all killed her, didn't you?"

Darrow licked his lips. "Listen, I came to warn you-"

"Answer the damned question!" said Feena.

"I was there," admitted Darrow. "I… I'm as guilty as the rest."

"And you've killed before then, haven't you?" Feena spat at his feet. "You've done it yourself. You're nothing but an animal!"

This was the last thing Darrow expected. He knew they had no reason to trust him, but this badgering astonished him. "What does it matter? I'm here to help save someone, not to kill anyone."

"Eckert's daughter," said Tal. "That's what you told Feena."

"I still can't believe Eckert has a daughter," interrupted Chaney, clutching his head with both hands. "Do you know what that means? That means he's had sex. With a woman. Some poor woman had sex with Eckert!"

"Knock it off, Chane," said Tal. He fixed his eyes on Dar-row. "What happened to her?"

"I don't know how she was captured, but she's been Lord Malveen's prisoner for over a year."

"There is no Lord Malveen," interjected one of the players. He was a pretty man with long black curls.

"Stannis Malveen still lives-if that's the word for it- in the ruins of House Malveen," Darrow said. "Everything that's happened to you started with him."

"Tell me everything," said Talbot.

"I will," Darrow promised, "but you've got to promise to help me get Maelin out of there."

"No promises," said Talbot, "but if you make yourself useful, I won't break your neck right now."

Darrow didn't believe the threat… not until he met Talbot Uskevren's unwavering eyes. They were the color of unpolished steel, dead and strong. He realized that he had put himself completely in the other man's power. He might be able to win past all the players and even Feena, if he were lucky, but he could not oppose this man that Rusk called the Black Wolf.

"Start from the beginning," said Talbot, glancing up through the open roof. "And make it quick. The moon is coming."

Darrow took a breath and obeyed. He hoped his new master would be merciful.

Talbot was quiet for a long time after Darrow finished his tale. He had told it carefully, trying not to make too much of his desire to release Maelin from captivity, but leaving unspoken his own participation in the pack's High Hunts and callous defense of their territory. Judging by Feena's steady gaze, his guilt was not forgotten, nor forgiven.

The cleric had turned away from him only long enough to say her prayers at moonrise. Having listened carefully to Darrow's tale, she called on Selune for protections against the undead as well as spells to heal the wounded and harm the wicked. Afterward, she sat rocking slightly in a gesture that reminded Darrow of his own inner contest with the moon. She was calling to his wolf, and he had to concentrate to contain it. He had little doubt that his sudden transformation would be all the excuse Feena needed to execute him.

If Talbot felt the call, it did not show. He sat pensively, his fingers trailing the length of the gigantic sword he held on his lap. Whatever he was thinking, he did not share with the others.

Quickly lit a fresh bowlful of tobacco and broke the silence.

"Werewolves and vampires," she said. "This'll make a great play when it's all done."

Talbot began to protest, but then he sighed. "You might as well," he said. "There's no hiding it after last night."

"I want to play this Sorcia," said a slim, androgynous woman. Darrow was astonished at her aplomb.

"Sivana!" said Feena.

"Can I play Tal?" said a big, goofy looking fellow. He had the size for it, if no other resemblance to the Black Wolf.

"Not you, too, Ennis! Listen," said Feena sharply. "I know you're just trying to lighten the mood, but this doesn't help."

"Sorry," said the man with black curls. "Tell us what we can do to help."

"Absolutely nothing, Mallion," said Talbot. "I've already brought more than enough trouble to the playhouse. From now on, I'll deal with it on my own."

"Not alone," warned Feena.

"No," agreed Tal reluctantly. "I'll need your help."

"And mine," said a short, blond man who seemed somehow out of place among the players. He stood up and winced as if injured.

"Forget it, Chane," said Tal. "You've taken more than your share of lumps lately."

"It's my prerogative as the best friend," said Chaney. "I'm the-what do you call it in the plays, Quickly?"

"The male confidant," said Quickly, tossing him a wink.

"What does that make me, fifth business?" said Sivana. She twirled a polished long sword in her hand. It shone red under the light of the continual flame brands Lommy had set on the gallery support beams and the edge of the stage. "You taught us how to fight with these, Tal. It's time we returned the favor by putting them to real use."

Mallion agreed, stabbing one of the benches with his own blade. Quickly gave him a dire glance, and he pulled it out and hid the scar in the wood with his boot.

"This is not a play," said Tal. "You saw what happened last night, and that was nothing compared to what happened last time Rusk was here."

"He's got a point, dearies," said Quickly. "I was here for that, and it wasn't pretty."

"You were down in the abyss with me the whole time," protested Chaney. "Neither of us saw anything but that nasty severed arm and the mess he made of Tal's insides."

"I saw your insides right afterward," countered Quickly.

"Quiet!" thundered Tal. His voice resonated throughout the playhouse, and several of the players flinched at its unexpected volume. Seeing that he had their attention, he continued. "I love you all," he said. "Except you," he amended with a cold glance at Darrow. "One wrong move, and I will throttle you."

"I know," said Darrow.

"Good," said Tal. "The rest of you, I appreciate the sentiment. You're closer to me than my own family-"

"Damning us with faint praise," snorted Sivana.

"-and twice as disagreeable," said Tal. "But there's no way I can let you-"

"Tal Tal Tal Tal!" sang the tiny arboreal creature as it scampered down from the thatched roof. "They are here! They are here!"

"I knew it!" said Feena. "He led them to us."

She grasped her silver talisman and raised a finger toward him. Talbot laid a gentle hand on her arm even before Darrow protested.

"I didn't!" he said. "It's an obvious place for them to look."

"Who's here?" asked Mallion.

"Who else?" said Talbot. "Dark and empty, everyone get out of here, now! It's time I dealt with Rusk for good."

"Uh uh," said Chaney. "I'm staying."

"Me, too," said Feena.

Sivana and Mallion already brandished their blades, and Quickly adjusted her pipe and lifted a big spiked mace from behind one of the benches. "Sorry, sweetheart. You're a big, bad wolf, but this is still my playhouse. Nobody busts it up without coming through me."

Seeing the resolve in her face, Talbot gave in. "All right," he said, nodding at Darrow. "You keep an eye on this one, Sivana. That sword can kill him."

"Sugar," said Quickly, "every weapon in this house can hurt him."

"What do you mean?" said Talbot.

"After last year's 'incident,' I made a little investment. All the blades are silvered, and this is my fourth husband's enchanted mace. This pack of yours doesn't know what it's in for."

Talbot stared briefly, then plucked the pipe from the big woman's mouth and kissed her full on the lips before replacing it. She blew a smoke ring at him.

"If you're staying, then do as I say," he said to everyone. "Rusk's here for me, but we can't trust him. If he'll fight me alone, the rest of you stay back. Agreed?"

The players and Chaney nodded reluctantly, but Feena set her chin defiantly. Tal sighed but did not challenge her.

"If you beat him," said Darrow, "you command the pack."

"I'll believe that when I see it," said Tal. "It sounds too easy."

"Maybe so," said Darrow, "but they respect strength. Show them anything else, and-"

A tremendous crash shook one of the public doors.

Quickly hefted her mace and went through the lower gallery, where she could reach the bolt from the side. "Ready?"

Tal checked to make sure the others were well back. Chaney and Lommy had already slunk into the shadows of the lower gallery, and Darrow stood by himself on one side of the yard. The remaining players stood with swords in guard before the stage. They made an odd trio, giant, pretty man, and manly woman. Feena stood before them, silver talisman in hand.

Something slammed into the door again, but the bolt held.

Tal nodded to Quickly, and she stretched over the rail to grasp the latch. With a twist and a pull, she released the bolt.

The doors opened slowly, revealing the silhouettes of six massive wolves and a huge, one-armed man. Rusk's body surged with the unholy magic Darrow had seen him use so often before. Darrow noted Sorcia's absence and wondered briefly whether the Huntmaster had finally slain Sorcia and devoured her spirit to add to his own power. He could not decide whether her death should bring him sorrow or relief.

They entered slowly, not with caution but with ritual deliberation. The wolves turned to either side as they entered the yard, taking positions on either side of their leader, across from the players.

Behind the pack, the doors closed, and Quickly shot the bolt fast. No one would leave until the play was over.

As if obeying some prearranged cue, Rusk and Tal moved forward to stand in the center of the yard. Rusk's eyes fixed on Perivel's sword. "Set that aside, Black Wolf. Our contest must be decided with tooth and claw."

"I think not," said Tal. "The outcome of our last contest was to my liking. Perhaps this time I'll take a leg as well."

Rusk chuckled. "You are brave, young wolf, but I do not make the same mistake twice. Sorcia!"

Quickly shouted in surprise as a white werewolf pounced on "her from the shadows. Sorcia's supple arm wrapped around the big woman's throat, the curved claws of her other hand poised to stab at Quickly"s eyes.

Darrow realized at last what a fool he had been. Rusk had never done away with Sorcia because she was never truly rebelling against him. Instead, she had been manipulating Darrow into his own rebellion… but for what purpose, he still did not understand.

"Throw it away," said Rusk. "Or we shall begin the evening with a different sacrifice."

Talbot set his jaw and looked from Rusk to Quickly. Just as he was ready to cast away the sword, Feena called out, "Wait!" She brandished her talisman at Sorcia and shouted, "By the power of Selune, I repel you!" A dim light gleamed on the holy symbol, then died.

The white werewolf's eyes widened briefly, then narrowed as her lupine jaws formed a long grin. She tightened her grip on Quickly's throat and drew two red scratches on the woman's brow. Quickly squirmed but could not break the grip.

Rusk's laughter filled the playhouse. "Your goddess cannot help you," he roared, pointing upward. "Look!"

The moon had risen barely above the thatched roof, but it was little more than a slender crescent.

"The Black Moon!" announced Rusk. "Malar devours Selune tonight, and soon he will anoint his chosen avatar."

Groans of disbelief rose from the players.

"Spare me," said Sivana. "Another madman who thinks he missed out on all the fun of the Time of Troubles."

"You can't be serious," said Tal, staring incredulously at Rusk. "You think your beast god will make you his avatar for killing me?"

"Do not mock the Lord of the Hunt," growled Rusk.

"I'm not," said Talbot. "I'm mocking you, you carpet-chewing lunatic. Killing you will be a mercy." He raised Perivel's sword, but Rusk shook a finger and pointed it at Quickly.

Tal stuck the big blade into the ground, then shook his hands as if flicking water from them. Instantly, they grew wide and furred, each finger twice its normal length and tipped with a black claw.

"You are the Black Wolf," said Rusk. "Behold! The prophecy is fulfilled!" He sang a short prayer to Malar, and his own hand grew similarly large and wicked. Before he was finished, Talbot had moved in to attack. He stopped short at a cry from Quickly.

The white werewolf fought an unseen attacker in the shadows of the gallery. Quickly fell out of Sorcia's grasp, one beefy hand rubbing her throat while the other sought her fallen weapon. Before Talbot could react to the new attack, Rusk was upon him.

The Huntmaster lunged low, raking Talbot's thigh to leave a deep, wet wound. Before he could escape, Talbot grabbed a handful of Rusk's long gray hair and held him fast. His punch was too quick to see. All Darrow could see was a blur, the jerk of Rusk's head, and a spray of blood.

From the gallery, a thin voice cried out in terror. Lommy fled from Sorcia's grasp after distracting her. It was all the time Quickly needed to swing her mace at the white werewolf. Sorcia barely dodged the blow, leaping over the benches to seek shelter in the deeper shadows. Instead, she found another hidden lurker and shrieked angrily at an unexpected stab.

"Ha!" crowed Chancy, realizing he no longer had the advantage of surprise.

He came scrambling out of the dark gallery with Sorcia in pursuit, shifting to four legs as she came. The wound on her shoulder bled freely.

In the yard, the wolves and players alike joined the melee. Feena tried again to evoke the blessing of her goddess, and this time a wan silver light glowed briefly around her and all her allies. Even if she could not compel the werewolves to flee, she was not powerless.

In the center of it all, Rusk and Talbot rolled on the ground. Despite his missing arm and his opponent's great strength, Rusk was still the stronger. The infernal energy that coursed through his body broke every grip Talbot secured, then buffeted the younger werewolf mercilessly.

To the west, Mallion and Sivana fought back-to-back. A half dozen wolves surrounded them, darting in for quick bites before fleeing the burning points of their blades. Sivana cut out an eye and gave two other wolves searing wounds with her silvered sword. Mallion stood over the body of one he managed to pierce through the heart. The injured wolf still breathed, but it was dying.

By the stage, Ennis warded off two snarling wolves with wide swipes of his silvered long sword as Feena chanted another spell. Behind them, Chaney dashed across the stage with Sorcia at his heels. A pot of greasepaint burst just in front of the white wolf, making her veer away. Far above, Lommy hissed at her as he swung hand to hand from the open trapdoors of the heavens.

Darrow turned wildly around, unable to decide which conflict to join-or even which side to take. Rusk might consider him a traitor, even though it was clear now that Rusk had used him from the start, manipulating his fears and desires through Sorcia. Would Rusk let him live after killing Talbot? Darrow could no more expect mercy from Rusk than he could from Feena, whose mother he had helped murder.

Before he could decide, Karnek shifted from four legs to two, rising up to threaten Ennis. The distraction drew the player's eyes from Brigid, who darted between his legs and knocked him to the ground. In an instant, Karnek was at his throat, and the other wolves rushed past to overwhelm Feena.

Darrow leaped to intercept them, transforming as he flew through the air. The shift came more easily than ever before, and he landed in half-wolf form, growling a warning.

Brigid bit his leg and held fast, shaking her head to tear his sinews. Darrow smashed her head with both fists, loosening her grip but not breaking it. Before he could land another blow, Karnek crashed into him, bearing him to the ground.

"Traitor!" growled Karnek. He opened his wide lupine jaws to rip out Barrow's throat. Just as Darrow closed his eyes he felt teeth pierce his flesh, Karnek's head was knocked aside by a powerful blow. Darrow looked up to see Quickly standing above him, gripping her mace in both hands.

"Get up and make yerself useful," she said, still holding the pipe between her teeth.

Darrow tried to get up, but someone knocked him flat again. He saw a glimpse of white fur and heard Quickly scream. Feena yelled out a warning, but it was too late. By the time Darrow recovered, he saw Sorcia and Karnek both tearing at Quickly's body.

When the big woman stopped moving, both wolves turned to Darrow, their muzzles steeped in blood.