Black Wolf

Chapter 2

Hammer, 1371 DR

Talbot Uskevren stood in the parlor of his tallhouse when the callers rapped at his front door. He turned slowly to check the room one last time before letting them in.

To his right, the door to the small dining room remained slightly ajar. The room beyond was dark, the draperies drawn against the afternoon light. Human eyes could not penetrate the gloom, but Tal nodded to himself as his increasingly keen sight detected the shape he expected there.

Behind him, tiny sconces of continual flames lit the hallway to the servants' quarters and the study. Between the sconces, the polished cherry doors gleamed above a rich camel-hair carpet.

Across from the kitchen, fresh logs rested in the fireplace. Above the unlighted hearth, twin candelabra cast flickering light upon the high, arched ceiling. Above the mantle, a portrait of Perivel Uskevren gazed down at Tal. Perivel's hands were set firmly on the pommel of a gigantic sword. Tal shot a wink to the uncle he'd never known, wishing he felt as confident as Perivel looked.

Beside the front door stood a tall oaken wardrobe, a stand for walking sticks beside it. A pair of stuffed leather chairs, a velvet couch, and two small tables ringed the round Thayvian rug that lay in the center of the room. On one of the tables rested a delicate porcelain tea set.

"All right," said Tal to the room. "Here they come."

He opened the door just as the callers rapped a second time. One of them stumbled forward as the knocker was pulled from her hand, nearly falling into the room with a gust of cold winter air. Tal reached for her arm but checked the habitual gesture before he touched her. It took slightly more effort to restrain his smile at the woman's loss of composure. Beneath her woolen hood, she scowled.

Both visitors were almost a foot shorter than Tal. That wasn't unusual, but at first glance the women looked almost identical. Their deep blue cloaks were clasped with silver brooches in the form of a crescent moon. The woman who had stumbled was slightly more slender than the other, but their cornflower blue eyes were perfect reflections of each other.

"Feena, Maleva, come in," said Tal, a little too curtly to be polite. He covered his ungallant tone with a practiced smile. When the women complied, he shut the door against the bright, chilly day.

The women lowered their hoods, and Tal saw the most striking difference between them: Feena's flame-red hair might, in another thirty years, burn down to the same ash gray as her mother's. Despite the decades between them, Maleva did not look particularly old. The faint lines at the corners of her eyes and lips spoke more of laughter than they did of infirmity.

"Thank you, Tal," said Maleva. Tal noted her use of his shortened name. Most of his acquaintances called him "Talbot" or "Master Uskevren." He did not mind such familiarity, but usually only his friends called him "Tal." Despite the good they had done for him, he still did not trust Maleva or Feena enough to consider them friends.

As Tal took the women's cloaks, Maleva's eyes scanned the room, much as Tal's had earlier. When Tal draped the garments across the back of a chair rather than hanging them in the wardrobe, Maleva glanced again at the big cabinet. Tal stepped quickly in front of it, offering his visitors a seat beside the fireplace.

Beneath their cloaks, the women wore simple dresses of homespun wool. Feena's was embroidered with yellow thread at collar and cuff, but her mother's was plainly stitched. Their heavy woolen vests and rough leather boots were the sort of things Quickly would use as a costume for rustic fools in one of her plays. Had the women arrived at Stormweather Towers in such garments, they would have been turned away at the servants' door. Even the stable boy had finer apparel.

When the women were seated, Tal poured them each a cup of tea. It was rich, black, and expensive stuff reserved for those rare occasions on which Tal's mother visited his tallhouse. While Shamur Uskevren appreciated the fine quality of the tea, Tal expected it was lost on these women who were used to living in a cabin beside the Arch Wood, days away from the walled city of Selgaunt.

"It's dark in here," complained Feena, holding her cup in the palm of her hand. The ladies of Selgaunt would have shuddered to witness her awkwardness.

Maleva put a hand on her daughter's knee and squeezed gently. Feena wrinkled her nose in irritation, giving her a distinctly foxlike appearance. If she smiled once in a while, thought Tal, she would be very nearly pretty. But he had yet to see her smile.

Enough courtesies, thought Tal. He took a deep breath through his nose and smiled down at his visitors.

"I want to thank you both for all you've done," he said. "Despite our disagreements, I sincerely appreciate all you've done to help me since the 'hunting accident.' "

The words sounded anything but genuine, and Tal knew Quickly would berate him had he delivered such an unconvincing speech at the Wide Realms playhouse. He hoped Maleva and Feena had less discriminating ears.

Feena narrowed her eyes and somehow managed to look down at Tal, even though he towered above her. Tal knew she would not be satisfied by mere thanks, but that was all he planned to give them.

Maleva drank her tea without looking up at Tal, but he saw a faint, smile upon her lips. He realized that she knew what was coming.

"As you suggested, I've given my problem a lot of thought over the past month," Tal continued, "and as much as I appreciate your offer of assistance, I've decided to take care of it myself."

Feena put her teacup down hard enough to send it spinning in its saucer. "You can't," she said. Maleva squeezed her knee again, but Feena wouldn't be quieted. "You'll fail, and innocent people will pay for your stubborn pride."

A red veil fell across Tal's eyes, and he felt a sudden urge to slap Feena's face. That would shut her up.

She held his angry gaze unflinchingly. She might be arrogant and infuriating, but she was not easily cowed.

Almost as quickly as the fury came, it slipped away again. Tal had been uncharacteristically irritable all morning, even snapping at Eckert when the servant balked at his plans for this discussion. In a sudden flash of regret, Tal decided he must apologize later. The thought calmed him enough to keep his voice even and reasonable.

"Then give me another alternative," he said. "If the only way I can have this potion of yours is to swear obedience to your temple, then I'll find another way."

"Don't be a fool," said Feena, rising from the couch. "You need us. You need Selune. The wolf is stronger than you." Tal knew that was probably true, but he felt another stab of anger when she added, "More cunning, too."

He felt the heat on his face and saw Feena's faint smile of triumph when she saw that she'd stung him. That only made him angrier, and he hated the feeling. The only other people who could make him so furious were his parents, and he could always keep it off his face and out of his voice when facing them. For whatever reason, Feena could break his composure with a word.

Tal took a deep breath before responding, a trick Quickly had taught him when dealing with hecklers at the playhouse. It worked, and he made himself smile, trying not to sound too condescending in return.

"I have friends who will help," he said, "without trying to manipulate me into serving their ends."

"Your friends," said Feena, "know nothing about your curse. We do, and we can show you how to deal with it. You need our help."

"Whether I want it or not?" asked Tal.

Behind Tal, the wardrobe creaked, but Feena was too angry to notice. Maleva, however, could not suppress a smile. She said, "Don't you think your servant would be more comfortable out here, with us?"

Tal cleared his throat. "Actually, it's Chaney. Come on out, Chane."

The wardrobe latch clicked, and a narrow face peeked out. "What a relief! It was stuffy in there."

A short, boyish man slipped out and closed the wardrobe door, but not before Feena caught a glimpse of the hand crossbow he'd left inside.

"What, were you planning to kill us?" She sounded astonished and outraged.

"Of course not!" said Tal. "You're the one who said / would need killing if things didn't work out."

"Just a little sleepy juice on darts," explained Chaney, finger-combing his straight blond hair. "Little darts. They barely hurt."

Both women stared back at him, obviously displeased.

"In case you decided to put a whammy on Tal," added Chaney, "like you did to me and Quickly back at the playhouse."

He seemed oblivious to the twin glares from the women. While their gazes turned from him to Tal, Chaney smoothed the crushed velvet of his doublet. The fabric was old and worn, but it was finely cut and had obviously been quite expensive.

"After all we've done for you, you ungrateful-" Feena began.

Maleva put a hand on her daughter's arm. "We aren't here to force you into anything, Talbot," said Maleva. Tal winced at her formality and almost regretted asking Chaney to cover him as he did. "I realize it's hard to trust us, after all you've been through. We should have been more honest with you from the beginning."

"Should I come out now, too, master?" a tremulous voice called from the kitchen.

Tal slapped his forehead in disbelief. He had hoped to keep Eckert as a backup just in case. He sighed and said, "Why not?"

Eckert's tall, skinny figure emerged from the darkness of the kitchen doorway. His blue-and-yellow livery was impeccably arranged, the Uskevren family crest-the horse at anchor-embroidered over his breast.

"Because I thought you might prefer that I remain… oh," Eckert said.

He saw the expression on Tal's face and realized his blunder. Eckert wasn't usually so stupid, but he was easily flustered by danger. "I'm terribly sorry, sir."

Feena looked angrier than ever, but Maleva seemed to find the entire fiasco amusing.

"Is there anyone else hidden in the rafters?" she asked. Tal hesitated only a moment before addressing the fireplace. "Lommy, it's all right to come out, now."

A fine sprinkling of soot heralded the arrival of a tiny green creature the size of a spider monkey. Lommy shook his coarse mane of black hair, sending up a cloud of fine black dust, then galloped across the room to leap up and perch on Tal's shoulder. He fixed his catlike eyes on the two women.

"No hurt Tal, or Lommy get help!" he snarled.

Tal had never heard the little creature sound so fierce. The tasloi was the Wide Realms' clown, evoking laughs with his pidgin Common and a subtle gift for mime comedy.

"Nobody's hurting anybody tonight," said Tal, with a pointed glance toward Feena. She was still angry, but she kept her mouth clamped tightly shut. "What we need is for everyone to calm down. Would you bring us some wine, Eckert?"

"Very good, master." The servant disappeared into the dark dining room, where the light of an uncovered lamp soon appeared.

"Mother, he doesn't know the first thing about riding the moon," complained Feena. "What's he going to do? Lock himself in the closet during the full moon?"

"The cellar, actually," offered Chaney. "Fortunately, he agreed to move the wine out first. Wouldn't want any drunken wolf antics, after all."

"What's 'riding the moon'?" asked Tal. He was genuinely curious, but Feena ignored him.

"See? They think it's funny," said Feena, turning to Maleva. "They haven't the first idea how to deal with the curse. We don't even know whether he's three-skinned."

"What's that?" asked Tal. "What's 'three-skinned'?"

Feena made a superior little smile and raised her chin.

"Some nightwalkers have three forms," explained Maleva. "The man, the wolf, and the beast between them. Feena saw you only as the wolf. If you take the half-form, you might be able to break out of rooms a wolf couldn't escape."

"Ha!" said Chaney, sinking down into one of the stuffed chairs and crossing his legs. "Not a problem. There's a cage in the cellar." He clicked his tongue and pointed a finger at his temple. "Smarter than you thought, eh?"

Tal considered the cleric's words, ignoring his friend's joke. He had witnessed the transformation in his nemesis, Rusk. Before he and the mad cleric of Malar had nearly slain each other, Tal watched Rusk begin to transform into a huge gray wolf. Tal wondered what else he did not know about the wolf inside himself, the big black monster that Feena reported seeing with Rusk.

"I don't care whether I have two or twenty skins," said Tal at last. "I'm not walking in any skin but my own. Like I said, I appreciate your concern, but you couldn't cure me before the first moon. You told me what I'm facing, and that's enough for me to keep it under control."

"You can't control it without help," said Feena. "Selune can give you that help, through us."

"Rusk said something similar about his Beastlord." "You would choose Malar over Our Lady in Silver?" Feena said, rising from her seat.

Lommy hissed at her, his rough nails clutching Tal's shoulder.

"Calm down!" said Tal. "It's nothing against your moon goddess. I just don't like the idea of anyone-Malar or Selune-making my choices for me."

"That's just it," said Maleva, pulling at Feena's arm to make her sit again. "It is your choice, Talbot, the most important one you're likely to make."

"Those who die faithless spend eternity in the Wall of Tears, endlessly tormented for their selfishness," added Feena, returning to the couch. "Those who pledge themselves to Selune spend the afterlife in grace and beauty. What are you smiling at?"

"That was a pretty speech. You could be a player at the Wide Realms."

Eckert returned from the dining room. On a serving tray rested four silver goblets and a bottle of Usk Fine Old, the precious family vintage favored by Tal's father, Tha-malon. The servant set the tray down and began to pour the wine, scowling briefly when Chaney helped himself to the first one. Chaney winked back at the servant and shrugged himself more deeply into his seat, watching the conversation continue.

"It's no act to speak passionately about Our Lady in Silver."

"Rusk seemed equally 'passionate' about the Call of Malar," noted Tal. In fact, he thought the cleric was a reckless fanatic, if not a complete madman.

Feena's eyes flashed with anger. She thrust a scolding finger into Tal's chest. Lommy hissed at her again, but Feena ignored the tiny creature. "Haven't you heard anything we've told-?"

Tal held up his hands and stepped back. "I said I'm not choosing either one," he countered. "Both want nothing but my servitude. If I don't obey Rusk, I must obey you-that's what you keep suggesting, but it isn't true. I don't have to obey anyone."

"This isn't some trade negotiation," spat Feena. "You can't bargain for a better deal from one side or the other. If you try to contain this on your own, then you're dangerous to everyone. Eventually, someone will have to deal with you."

"Time for you to leave," said Tal. His patience was at an end. "Go back to keep watch over that pack in the woods."

"You'll regret turning us away," warned Feena. She and her mother rose from the couch and went to the door. Feena flung open the door and rushed out into the cold, but Maleva paused at the door.

"Come here, my boy," she said.

Tal plucked Lommy from his shoulder and set him on the floor before joining Maleva at the door.

"Come," she said, reaching up and beckoning to him to kneel before her. Feeling foolish, he descended to one knee. She took his face in her hands and looked into his gray eyes. For a long moment, she searched for something in them.

"Feena means well when she warns you of the danger," she said at last. "It is hard for her to understand why you refuse our help. But even she does not realize what you face. It is a thorny path, that of the nightwalker, and thornier for those like Rusk, and like you."

"Mother!" called Feena from the bottom of the stairs.

"What do you mean, like Rusk and me?" said Tal.

She did not answer. Instead, Maleva held Tal's face a little longer, then slapped him lightly on both cheeks. "Keep your good heart, Talbot Uskevren. It will guide you on the thorny path."

She turned and descended the steps to join Feena. Tal watched the two women walk down Alaspar Lane. As they moved farther away, he was surprised to hear their words, since they kept their voices low.

"I don't care how much you like him, mother. He is not the Black Wolf."

"Shush," said Maleva. "It is still considered heresy, whether we believe that or not."

Tal strained to hear them, but their voices grew fainter as they walked away. He briefly considered following them but realized there was nowhere to conceal himself on the snowy street.

"Then Talbot Uskevren is not the… you-know-what."

"Perhaps not, my dear," said Maleva. "But he could be."

"You used to say the same…"

Tal stepped out onto the landing, but the sound of the women's footsteps crunching in the snow obscured the rest of their conversation. He sighed and went back inside, closing the door against the cold.

They made an odd spectacle around the table: big Tal, small Chaney, and tiny Lommy. Eckert had tied a napkin around the little creature's neck as a bib, careful not to touch the tasloi as he did so. Even so, the fastidious servant could not conceal his disdain for serving the uncouth creature at the dinner table, and he appeared ready to faint when Tal stacked the collected histories of Selgaunt on Lomm/s chair to help him reach the table.

What he lacked in warmth for Tal's friend, Eckert made up in culinary skill. Supper was oxtail soup followed by roast beef with carrots and onions, pickled asparagus in a spicy Turmish cream sauce, and a fried wheat cake smothered in jellied pears.

Tal ate twice as much as Chaney and Lommy combined, while Eckert dined alone in the kitchen. Tal had given up on inviting him to sit at the table. The very suggestion made Eckert nervous, for he had been a servant all his life and dared not overstep his station.

Aside from Eckert and the clerics of Selune, the others who knew of Tal's condition were Chaney, Mistress Quickly, and the two tasloi. Tal hoped to keep it that way, even though it appeared that he would never be cured. After treating him with an almost lethal brew of herbs, Maleva had tried breaking the curse with powerful spells. For reasons she couldn't-or wouldn't-explain, all efforts had failed. Tal supposed he could go to one of the city temples, but he had a sinking feeling that they could do no better.

More puzzling was the fact that Kusk, the werewolf who had infected him, traveled far from his lair to bring Tal into his pack. Why was he so interested in Tal? He suspected that Maleva knew more than she was telling him.

After dinner, Lommy scampered back to the playhouse with a napkin full of meat for his brother, Otter. Unlike Lommy, Otter was shy of people. He rarely emerged from the rafters of the Wide Realms, where he controlled the trapdoors and other mechanical devices above and below the stage.

As Eckert cleared the table, Tal and Chaney descended into the cellar. The cellar entrance and the tiny window had both been barred and boarded, as had the door at the top of the stairs. Once the room had held an impressive collection of wine as well as some tools and packing crates. At Tal's command, Eckert had moved everything to the upper floor, leaving the cellar bare except for a single wooden chair and a huge steel cage. Fresh straw was strewn on the flagstones beneath. Reassembling the massive cage had taken the better part of a dark night and a flimsy story about Quickly wanting the cage out of the way backstage at the Wide Realms.

Tal pulled off his boots and stood up to unlace his shirt.

"That Feena is really something, eh?" Chaney nudged his friend with an elbow. He held an oil lamp in one hand, a big key ring in the other. "Do you miss her yet?"

"What are you talking about?" Tal draped the shirt across the back of the chair and unbuckled his belt.

"I've seen the way she looks at you, too." Chaney smiled, but only on one side. "All that fighting, it's just repressed desire. Believe me, I know about women. She's not here just because you turn into a cute puppy now and again."

"You're drunk," said Tal, knowing he was not. Neither of them had much to drink this night, though Tal had gorged himself intentionally. The last thing he wanted was for the wolf to spend the night hungry. "She's a religious fanatic."

"She was just disappointed she's not the one watching you undress."

"Don't be stupid." Tal laid his breeches on the chair and stepped out of his underclothes.

"It's a good thing she hasn't seen you naked recently," said Chaney. "Have you noticed how much hairier you've gotten?"

He had noticed. He'd had plentiful body hair before, but it had thickened everywhere, especially on his arms. The only place he was glad for more hair was over the ugly wound Rusk had given him. Thick, ropy scars crossed his belly like white roads in a black forest.

"Maybe I should have Eckert help me shave."

"Then he would quit," said Chaney. "Say, that's not a bad idea!"

"Take it easy on him," said Tal. "The only reason he keeps quiet about the wolf is that he's afraid my father would have me locked up in Stormweather, and he'd lose his job."

"I suppose you're right."

"Besides, I kind of like him."

"I thought he irritated you, too."

"Sure, but he's funny, and he's a great cook." Tal walked into the cage and closed the door behind him. It snapped shut with a resounding clang.

"That's true," said Chaney. With a moment's effort, he made a long, satisfied belch.

"I can't take you anywhere," said Tal, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "Lock the door."

"You don't take me anywhere, lately," said Chaney. He turned the big key until the lock clicked. "After the moon, we should celebrate the success of your cunning plan. The girls at the Black Stag have been asking after you since that hunting trip."

"Yeah? Which ones?"

"All of them," said Chaney. "You're more competition when you're gone than when you're there. Everyone loves a mystery. You want something to sit on in there?"

"No, just the straw's fine. You should probably go upstairs, now. The moon's coming."

"How can you tell? It's like a tomb in here."

"I can feel it." Tal patted his belly.

"It's those cakes," said Chaney. He belched again. "I'll see if there are any left."

"Don't forget to put the mattress against the door."

"Don't worry. Howl all you want. The neighbors won't hear a thing."

"Thanks."

Chaney spun the key ring around one finger and walked up the steps. He paused at the door. "You sure you don't want me to wait down here? At least let me leave the light."

"No. I'd rather be alone," said Tal. "But thanks."

"No problem, my friend."

"I mean it, Chane."

Chaney grinned, but his eyes looked sad. Despite his bluster, Tal could tell that his friend was worried. "See you in the morning."

" 'Night."

Tal sat cross-legged on the cage floor. The straw wasn't thick enough to make a comfortable seat over the steel bars. He'd have to ask Eckert to fetch more for tomorrow night. The full moon transformed him for three nights last month, and he expected it to do the same this month. He put the thought aside and concentrated on his breathing.

Under Master Ferrick's tutelage, Tal had learned to focus his mind before a fencing match, beginning with his breathing. Once the rhythm of his lungs was deep and steady, he imagined the concentric rings of the dueling floor. One had to keep one's eyes on his opponent, not the boundaries, but he had to know where the boundaries were without looking. Tonight, Tal's opponent was inside him, so he had to focus inward. That was a trick Master Ferrick had never taught him. Tal wished he had progressed further in his fighting studies. He was not a particularly good student, relying too much on his natural strength and speed and not enough on tactics.

His thoughts would not settle themselves, so Tal tried imagining himself on a warm, dark sea. It was something Maleva had said that gave him the idea. The seas were tied to the moon, and nightwalkers changed as the tides ebbed and flowed. Tal closed his eyes, and soon he imagined he could feel a distant force pulling at his body. He no longer felt the straw beneath him nor the cool air of the cellar. He felt only a vague and formless call, and he knew it was the moon. He had sensed it earlier, a vague attraction pulling at him. Not at his body, but at something inside. He tried to isolate the feeling. Was it pulling at his heart? At his guts?

He couldn't tell. The only sure feeling was a gentle wavelike motion, barely discernable. He could almost hear the sound of crashing surf, though Selgaunt Bay was much too far away for it to be real.

It was like being drunk, but only faintly. As the sensation grew stronger, Tal felt a sudden flush of fear. His concentration broken, he felt the cold steel bars of the cage pressing against his legs and buttocks. His arms were sweating where they pressed against his thighs. A cramping pain wrenched his lower back, and he twisted onto his side with a groan.

There he curled like a child as the pain rushed up into his shoulders and down each leg. He cried out and instantly prayed that neither Chancy nor Eckert would heed him. Now the sound of rushing water filled his head, almost deafening him to his own cries and shouts. Hot rain pelted his brain, and a warm surge filled his whole body, pushing it out in shapes it was never meant to take. Lightning coursed through his nerves, leaving agonizing spasms in its wake.

Despite the darkness, Tal saw a crimson wall rise to surround him, closing in to press against his eyes, then through them to his panicked brain. The red fury penetrated his body, filled him to bursting, and blasted his conscious thoughts to oblivion.