The Anxiety of Kalix the Werewolf (20 page)

“So you will come?” continued the Duke.

The Fire Queen, by now desperate to escape, nodded, smiled and excused herself from the Duke and Duchess with as much grace as she could muster.

“At last,” muttered Malveria. “Next stop, the wine decanter.”

To the Queen's distress, she had taken no more than a few steps when her way was blocked by Lord Stratov and his daughter, the Honorable Gloria. They bowed in greeting. The Queen mustered a week smile. Lord Stratov was another important member of the aristocracy, of which, Malveria reflected, the nation had rather a lot.

“Stratov,” said the Queen. “I haven't seen you at court for some time.”

The Duke nodded but seemed lost for words, perhaps even a little embarrassed. If that was the case, his daughter made up for it.

“I've been telling Father he really must mingle more with his peers,” she cried, in a trumpeting voice that the Queen found irritating. “Instead of hanging around in that massive castle of his. One of the largest castles in the land, of course, as befits a man of my father's importance, with his vast wealth and impeccable record of service to the nation.”

“Uh . . . of course,” said the Queen.

“After all, what is the point of being the most eligible man in the nation if you never meet anyone?” continued Gloria.

The Fire Queen was startled to hear Lord Stratov, who was no longer young, and had never been particularly good-looking, described as the nation's most eligible man. She supposed it was forgivable on the grounds of daughterly pride.

“I was just on my way to—” began the Fire Queen.

“We hold the most fabulous balls and parties at our enormous castle,” said Gloria.

“Do we?” said the Duke.

“Our next will be the most tremendous affair.” Gloria was enthusiastic. “If the Queen would honor us with her presence I'm sure my father, the Duke, would be so full of delight he would be unable to put it fully into words.”

Malveria, with one eye on the refreshment tables, struggled to follow this tortuous sentence.

“Really, there will be no wine left if my handmaidens and Agrivex keep guzzling it in that fashion,” she snapped.

“Pardon?” said Gloria, quite puzzled.

“Eh, where were we?” said the Fire Queen.

“Our fabulous ball at the enormous castle,” said the Honorable Gloria.

The Fire Queen suppressed a sigh and mentally cursed the Duke, his daughter, the Keeper of the Minor Volcano and anyone else connected with this dreadful event, which was turning out to be far more tedious than she had anticipated.

CHAPTER 34

Sarapen stood alone on the rampart of the small desert fort, staring out over the red sand and brooding about his future. He was pleased to have
left the Empress's palace, at least for a few days. The endless parade of courtiers, officials, supplicants and servants was distracting. Here in the vast wilderness of the desert, at least he had peace to think.

Sarapen had originally asked to visit the front lines where there were sporadic clashes between the Hainusta and Hiyasta over the disputed border. The Empress would not agree to that. She'd reluctantly agreed to let him visit some of her nearer military outposts but insisted that he return in a few days. She claimed that the spells that protected him from the hostile environment might not work if he remained in the desert. Sarapen suspected she just wanted him back in the palace as quickly as possible. Quite why she wanted him there, he wasn't sure. As far as Sarapen could see, an association with an alien werewolf was not something Empress Kabachetka's subjects would like.

Not that the Empress seems to care that much what her subjects think.

The Empress was an absolute monarch. She controlled the power of the Eternal Volcano. It rendered her untouchable. There had never been a successful rebellion in the land of the Hainusta.

Sarapen gazed over the hot sands. The Fire Elementals were not as frivolous or unpleasant as he'd once believed. He could tolerate their company. He did not, however, wish to spend the rest of his life among them. The great werewolf would have much preferred to return home to Scotland, or anywhere in his own dimension. According to the Empress, that was still not possible. The effects of the terrible wound inflicted by the Begravar knife would kill him. Sarapen had no way of knowing if that was true. Even if it wasn't, he had no way of returning. As a werewolf, he didn't have the power to travel through dimensions. No werewolf did.

Apart from my sister, thought Sarapen, and scowled. Sarapen despised Thrix almost as much as he despised Markus. It was bad enough that she'd learned sorcery. It was unforgivable that she'd used that sorcery against him. Without Thrix's assistance, his mother and his brother would never have succeeded in cheating him out of his rightful position as Thane.

Sarapen's thoughts turned to Kalix, whom he also hated. He shook his head. What a family. It did strike him that he didn't actually hate Kalix as much as the others, even though she'd struck the blow that all but killed him. Kalix might be mad, addicted to laudanum and a disgrace to the clan, but she was fierce and brave. She wasn't scared of him, though she should be. Sarapen admired that.

“I'll meet you again, sister, and then we'll see who wins, without sorcery and a magic knife to help you.”

Below him a troop of Hainusta began to assemble, on their way to the disputed region. The conflict remained at a low level and no one had gained much advantage. Neither side wanted the dispute to escalate into a full-scale war, but neither of them was prepared to back down. Sarapen wished he could join in. He felt ready to throw himself into battle. He had no concern about losing his life. There was nothing he would regret leaving behind.

Apart from Dominil, maybe. Sarapen wondered what his old lover was up to. Was she still in London, taking care of the degenerate twins? Sarapen swiftly dismissed them as not worth thinking about, but the image of Dominil lingered on for a long time.

CHAPTER 35

Verasa MacRinnalch poured two glasses of red wine, one for her and one for Markus. The Great Council meeting had lasted for many hours, and the first faint streaks of dawn were visible through the large windows in Verasa's chambers.

“I just cannot believe that Dominil is a drug addict.” The revelation had come as a terrible blow. Verasa had held Dominil in very high regard. Her success in dealing with the twins in London, and her intelligence and bravery during the great feud, had been admired by everyone. It was difficult to get close enough to Dominil to actually like her, but her reputation among the clan had certainly risen.

“How could she let the clan down like that? Poor Tupan, he must be mortified. To learn in the middle of a council meeting that his daughter has been taking laudanum!”

Markus professed to be less shocked and upset than his mother. “She might have become addicted, but she's never gone off the rails. No one even realized she was taking laudanum.”

“I appreciate that,” said Verasa. “She hasn't been stealing and begging. But still . . . I know you think I should be more sympathetic, Markus, but I just can't be.”

Verasa was not the only werewolf who'd been appalled by the revelation. The three werewolf barons had plainly been disgusted, as had Dominil's father. It was a shameful thing among the MacRinnalchs to
be an addict. Dominil could expect little sympathy. Her manner laid her open to resentment. Dominil had never attempted to deny that she was the most intelligent werewolf in the clan. Nor had she ever made any effort to indulge in the social niceties that bound the MacRinnalchs together. Now that she'd been shown to be not as self-controlled as she'd led people to believe, she could expect to be on the receiving end of a lot of harsh criticism.

“I expect she's been buying it from that scoundrel Merchant MacDoig,” exclaimed the Mistress of the Werewolves. “I know he supplies Kalix. I'm never letting him in the castle again. Really, Markus, I feel so let down. I trusted Dominil.”

“Has she ever betrayed your trust?” asked Markus.

“Up till now, no. Or so I thought. But who knows what might have been going on? I've often sent Dominil money for clan business. Has she been using it to buy drugs?”

“I'm sure she hasn't,” said Markus.

The Mistress of the Werewolves scowled and wrapped her paw around her wine glass, emptying it in one long swallow.

“You might sympathize with your cousin, but I assure you the clan won't. And I don't either.”

“She did try to stop,” Markus pointed out. “That's why she went to see Minerva.”

“And look how that's turned out!” cried Verasa. “More misfortune.”

Markus knew it was no good pursuing the subject. His mother wasn't going to change her mind in a hurry. He sipped a little wine, then changed the subject.

“We seem to have agreed to go to war.”

Verasa made a face, an expression that would not have been intelligible to an outsider. To another werewolf, it was clear that she was unsure of her opinion.

“Thrix is right, I suppose,” said Verasa. “If the hunters can kill Minerva, they can strike anywhere. We have to do something. But I can't see the barons hurrying to send their young wolves to London to join the fight.”

After long discussion, it had been agreed that they should make plans for a campaign against the Avenaris Guild. The council had not gone as far as Thrix wanted. They'd stopped short of immediately mobilizing the clan for war. This was partly because many of the council members were conservative by nature and refused to rush into a violent campaign. But
there was sound reasoning behind it too. No one knew where the Guild was located. Their headquarters was hidden. The MacRinnalchs didn't even know if their army of hunters was gathered in one place or dispersed around the country. Until they learned more, the council was not prepared to fully commit itself.

Thrix had been frustrated. She'd brusquely informed the meeting that she would take it upon herself to find the Guild's headquarters as soon as possible, using her powers of sorcery.

“And Dominil's computer expertise,” added Thrix, ignoring the cynicism around the table about Dominil's ability to do anything. Between them, Dominil and Thrix would find the Guild's headquarters.

“As soon as we do that,” Thrix had said, “I'll expect the clan to be ready to annihilate them.”

Verasa had gone along with the general feeling. She knew that something had to be done, but she was uncomfortable with the prospect of an all-out war. She didn't like that her son Markus was so keen on the idea. Markus seemed to think that as Thane he should be leading the troops. Verasa didn't want that to happen. She'd lost one son last year and didn't intend to lose another. She worried about Thrix too. The Enchantress was so powerful that she'd rarely had to worry about her before. But if she went up in direct opposition to the Guild, who knew what might happen? The Guild had access to sorcery too. They had a strong ally in the Fire Elemental Kabachetka. Verasa feared for Thrix's life, and Markus's too, and, as dawn broke and she changed back into human shape, she lay down in her bed very uneasily.

Am I to lose all my children? wondered the Mistress of the Werewolves. Kalix was always in trouble, and although Verasa continued to support her, she couldn't help feeling that her youngest daughter was destined for an early grave. In the course of her very long life, Verasa had learned to take misfortune stoically, but as the sun rose she lay in her bed feeling depressed and very troubled about the future.

CHAPTER 36

Kalix woke in her human form on the warehouse floor. Daniel and Moonglow were asleep on top of a large crate. Kalix was perplexed. She
didn't remember what had happened but realized it couldn't have been good. She considered sneaking out quietly, but at that moment Moonglow woke.

“Kalix, are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” mumbled Kalix.

“We should go home,” said Moonglow and nudged Daniel awake.

They trudged out to the car, stiff from their uncomfortable night's sleep. Daniel opened the car doors.

“C'mon, Wolfy,” he said and grinned.

Kalix knew she'd taken on her wolf form last night. She knew she could be irresponsible in that state. She wondered if she'd actually attacked her flatmates, but didn't like to ask. Before she had time to process this, a more profound gloom settled on her. Old Minerva was dead and it was Kalix's fault. She'd been sent home in disgrace. The young werewolf sat in the back seat and tried to make herself as small as possible. She remained silent on the journey home, refusing to respond to Moonglow's anxious questions about what had happened to upset her.

Kalix felt herself becoming anxious as they neared their home. She didn't want to answer questions from Daniel and Moonglow. Last night, she'd felt so anxious about everything she'd fled to the warehouse so as not to have to encounter anyone. Kalix found it very difficult to cope with company when her anxiety came on badly. Now it was a heavy weight on her, fueled by her guilt over Minerva. She was certain the werewolves at the castle would be discussing her. Thrix and Dominil would have told everyone it was her fault that Minerva was killed.