Wolf's-own: Weregild (20 page)

"Eat,” Samin commanded. He was still trying to out-glare Fen into compliance when Malick spoke up behind him:

"Shig, I need you to go down to Umeia's room and get me something."

Samin turned around, frowning. “We're here for a reason, Mal, I think—"

"Yeah, I gathered,” Malick cut in, sardonic. “And you'll have your say, but I need this first.” He turned back to Shig. “Umeia's got a ring in the little black-lacquered chest she's got on her vanity. It's got a diamond, set in a—"

"Umeia's got a diamond?” Samin couldn't help but blurt. He knew the Girou made a lot of money, but a
diamond
.

"Yeah,” Malick answered, shrugging absently, then he turned back to Shig. “Two, actually, but the one I want is a man's ring. It's got a thick gold band and the diamond is set in a bed of onyx. You'll know it when you see it.” He made a shooing gesture with his hand. “Quickly, please, I've got to piss."

Samin had no idea what one had to do with the other, but Shig didn't question it. With a shrug, she turned for the door. “And what shall I say if Umeia—?"

"She won't,” Malick cut in, voice abruptly flat. “Anyway, it's mine. Do it now."

Oddly, Shig snorted as she continued on her way to the door and quietly let herself out.

Samin turned to Fen. “I promised Joori he could come see you after we're done."

He'd expected an objection from Malick, but there wasn't one, just a sideways glance at Fen then a lift of the eyebrows at Samin. Nothing at all from Fen but absent picking at the rind of the oblate. His head was bowed, stringy fringe hanging over his eyes.

"They should all come see him when we're done,” Malick put in after a moment, that same sideways glance turned on Fen, watching, but there was still nothing from Fen. Malick sighed, hand absently moving down to settle over Fen's foot next to his hip as he gave Samin a bit of a grimace and a shrug. “They're leaving tomorrow."

Samin's mouth tightened. “And they don't know it yet.” It wasn't a question; more like an accusation.

"No,” Malick said tersely, gaze unflinching as he met Samin's.

"Damn it, Mal.” Samin turned a look on Fen again, but Fen seemed perfectly content to just slouch in the ugly chair and make cross-hatch scores in the rind of the oblate with his thumbnail. “Umeia's taking them.” That explained her apparent upcoming trip, at least.

"Yes,” Malick confirmed, voice flat, borderline hostile.

It made Samin's gut curl a little. “Are you going to tell me what happened?” More to the point: did Samin really want to know?

Malick scraped a hand roughly through his hair. With a weary sigh, he set his untouched breakfast to the side and leaned forward to pour himself a bowl of tea from the tray at the foot of the bed. “A long time ago....” His mouth pursed and he sat back, took a quick sip of tea, hand going once again to settle over Fen's foot. “A
very
long time ago,” he amended, “Asai managed to get hold of
Temshiel
Blood. The circumstances matter, but I'm not in the mood to go into them now. The long and short of it is that he's been using that Blood to make amulets for the Adan hunters. The
Temshiel
who....” Malick paused, teeth clenched. “...who
donated
the Blood was a Null. Like me.” He shot a glance at Fen, and when Fen just sat there, head down, fingernail still working steadily on the oblate, Malick shook his head a little and turned back to Samin. “With the right spells, the amulets can take away the magic of another. It's how the hunters can snatch their victims without getting set on fire or buried in a sudden earthquake."

Samin frowned. He'd always wondered how the Jin who fell to the hunters had done so without much resistance that he'd ever seen. Like most things, he hadn't wondered too deeply, and a flush now burned at his face as he realized he'd more or less written it off to innate weakness in the Jin. He flashed a discomfited glance at Fen, but Fen was still enraptured by the fruit.

"Asai,” Malick went on, tone cooling a little, “is apparently not satisfied with the power in his hands. He wants more. He intends to get himself Heart's Blood from a
Temshiel
.” He shot another glance at Fen then back to Samin, his gaze steady. “Fen was supposed to get it for him."

Samin's eyes narrowed. Heart's Blood. Not something one could bleed from another's veins, not if it was what it sounded like. “How—?"

"From a
Temshiel's
still-beating heart."

It rather confirmed the grisly picture that had been forming unwilling in Samin's mind. That Xari had almost said as much just the other day, but Samin had hoped maybe it was some kind of maudlin euphemism. Samin couldn't help the grimace.

"He wasn't told who he was supposed to kill,” Malick put in, his tone patient, almost gentle. “He was told only that playing the part Asai instructed him to play would save the Jin."

All right. Now the strange conversation between Malick and that crone made a whole lot more sense. Take the power of the
Temshiel
and Asai would set himself up as a demigod—that was the conclusion drawn then, and it seemed the most reasonable, Samin supposed. But now the situation at Yakuli's made even less sense.

"Asai must've seen that it wouldn't work,” Samin mused, trying to wend through the maze of the circumstances presented. “If Yakuli is his man, Asai must have foreseen something that would make him start building that army he's got. It's not a new thing. What Yakuli's got going on out there has been going on for a long time."

There it was again, fizzing at the base of Samin's spine. There was something too wrong about it all, but he just couldn't lay hands on it.

"You're assuming that Yakuli is his man,” Fen put in quietly, lifting his head for the first time since Samin had come in. “What if Asai is Yakuli's man? What if Asai's sight has been blocked, and he doesn't know anything about it?"

Samin frowned at Malick. “Is that possible?"

"If Yakuli's got enough spirit-bounds covering his footprints in Fate,” Malick said slowly, eyes pinned to Fen.

Fen's gaze snapped over to Malick, narrowed. “The man who... who came to Asai for amulets.” His voice was a near-whisper and somewhat hoarse. His fingers tightened about the oblate until pink juice ran between the fissures in the skin he'd made with his fingernail. “He was on horseback. And he spoke to Asai like he was a servant."

"Or like he
thought
Asai was his servant,” Malick put in. “If Yakuli thinks Asai works for him, believe me, Asai's got a reason for it. Asai serves no one, not even the gods, unless he absolutely has to."

Fen took this in silently, and with no outward reaction. His hollow gaze dipped down to the oblate in his hands for a long moment, unseeing, then shifted slowly to Samin. “What did you see at Yakuli's?"

Was my mother there?
It was what the question really meant, and Samin peered at Malick, waiting for direction. Malick gave him a slight nod that only made Samin's throat go a little dry. Damn it, why did people keep giving Samin meaningful looks, like he had any say in
any
of this?

"Shig said she's there,” Samin told Fen gently. He paused while Fen's eyes squeezed shut and his hands tightened, pulverizing the oblate into a sticky mash of pulp and peel, then cleared his throat. “I'm not sure how she knows, but she was damned sure."

Malick sucked in a long breath, shrugged, and waved at the door. “She's hovering outside in the hall. I suppose we should let her tell us."

His eyes cut over to Samin's, unreadable, before shifting back to the door just as Shig turned the knob and stepped through. Samin wasn't sure he'd ever actually seen Shig look uncomfortable before, but by the hard look Malick was pointing at her, and the way her gaze looked all too knowing, if a little ashamed, Samin suspected she'd just been caught “listening,” and Malick knew it, and Shig knew Malick knew it.

Her guilty shrug and soft voice all but confirmed it: “I know what her spirit tastes like,” she said softly.

It startled Samin. He whipped around and met her green gaze, frowning. Her eyes went to Fen, though Fen missed the genuine sympathy in them, because he wouldn't look up.

"It's in your own Blood,” she told Fen. “She tastes like you."

Samin couldn't help the way his mouth twisted. “You've tasted Fen's
blood
?” The revulsion was no doubt in his voice, and he couldn't suppress the shudder.

Shig ignored him, still gazing at Fen with that soft sympathy, so at odds with the way she'd been behaving just lately. “Shall I tell you what she—?"

"
No
!” Fen's jaw was clenched, but even that couldn't stop it quivering. Then, low and shaky: “Yes.” He shook his head. “I... I don't know."

Lips pursed and brow twisted in compassion, Shig stepped slowly over to the bed, though she didn't round it to stand near Fen. Instead, she stepped up to Malick, held out her hand, and when he lifted his own, palm-up, she dropped a thick, glittering ring into his palm. “Umeia didn't say anything."

Malick's mouth tightened. “I didn't expect her to."

Samin again wanted to ask what was going on between Malick and Umeia, but it seemed like it wasn't the right time, so he waited for whatever Shig's newest drama was to play out. Shig crouched down, leaned an elbow on the side of the mattress, and leveled her gaze with Fen, though Fen refused to look up. All Samin could see was the lank fringe, the tip of his nose, and the rigid set of his jaw.

"I won't say unless you ask it,” Shig said softly. “It's yours to choose."

Fen's gaze finally jerked up, all bitter enmity. “Since when has what I wanted meant a damn to you?"

"Since always,” Shig answered simply. She leaned in, right over Malick's knees, like Malick wasn't even there anymore. Samin had the uncomfortable notion that he and Malick had just gone completely invisible. “You don't want to know, but you have to, yeah?” She shook her head. “Poor Fen."

Almost condescending, but... not. Still, it made Samin uneasy, like he should be coming to Fen's defense for something he didn't even really understand yet. Malick caught his eye, intent, and gave one minute shake of his head.

"Fen?” Malick asked, calm and mild. No prodding for one answer or another. Only genuine concern and the desire to know what Fen chose.

Fen said nothing, just stared at Shig, stone-faced. Shig seemed to think she understood what it meant, because she gave Fen that sad smile she'd been flashing about recently, said, “Maybe later, yeah? After Mal's done what he should've done days ago."

Malick glared, jerked up his knee, and knocked Shig off him. “You can be a real bitch sometimes, you know that?"

Shig blinked, all wide-eyed innocence. “And you can be a lazy, stubborn bastard when there's something in it for you.” She turned her glance to Fen. “You can't ever trust him all the way,” she confided, earnest now. “He could've given it to you when you made your promise, but he had his reasons for waiting."

"Yeah,” Malick grated, “I did, so why don't you just shut the fuck up, if you're not going to say anything helpful?"

Fen was staring, like he wasn't quite tracking everything they were saying, or what it might mean, but he didn't open his mouth to ask. Samin wasn't quite getting it either, but there was a time for restraint and now was not it. “Give him what?” he asked.

Shig smirked at Malick, and when Malick glared at her, she opened her eyes wide, mimed shutting her mouth with lock and key, and sat back on her heels on the floor. Malick's fists were both clenched as tight as his jaw, but when he turned back to Fen, he made a visible effort at relaxing.

He held the ring up so the diamond gleamed in the lamplight, its bed of onyx giving it the relief it needed to practically dazzle the eye. Faceted prisms and glittering depths—
beautiful
.

"See that?” Malick asked, and just like Shig a minute ago, it was like he saw only Fen, and everyone else had faded from view. “The flaw in the center—look deep.” He reached out, snatched up Fen's hand, turned it over, and dropped the ring into his palm.

Fen was frowning, his gaze wary as he took the ring, but he did as Malick told him to: he held it up in front of the lamp. “It isn't a flaw,” he said slowly.

"No, it isn't,” Malick confirmed. “It's my Blood. I don't give it lightly. This is how Skel damned himself. One talisman, one person who we must choose very carefully.” He waved his hand at Fen. “Wear it, if you like, or keep it in a pocket. It's not as strong as touch, but it'll keep things quieter than what you can do yourself with the pain. It's yours for as long as our bargain stands, and if you keep your end, it's yours for as long as you want it.” He slanted a harsh glower at Shig. “Happy now?"

Shig shrugged, lifted an eyebrow. “Well, I'm not done yet, am I?"

"Gods on their moons.” Samin sighed and threw up his hands. “Can
someone
speak plainly for once? What the fuck is she not done with? What the fuck is going on with you and Umeia? What the fuck are we going to do about Yakuli and Fen's mother, and what the
fuck
are we going to do about Asai?"

Malick sat back against the headboard, flicked another sour glance at Shig, then turned to Samin. “She's not done because I want her here when Fen lets me hear the Ancestors.” Fen stiffened a little at that, but Malick didn't pause. “Umeia decided that Asai may have a point in what he's been plotting. I disagreed. Therefore, she is no longer welcome here.” He opened a hand when Samin let a gasp slip loose. “She's taking Morin and Caidi and Joori to Heldesan in the morning, and she's not coming back.” A slight hesitation, his gaze going again to Fen, softer this time. “It's Fen's to decide about his mother, and I have to think a bit more about Yakuli. As far as Asai....” Malick shrugged and waved a hand at Fen. “Fen has agreed to take care of him for me."

Samin eyed Fen dubiously. Not that he had any doubt Fen was skilled enough, but... he didn't look like he was entirely capable, at the moment. There were more bandages showing than there was skin, after all, and the other night.... Well, it was still fresh and somehow terribly raw.

Fen wasn't even listening, really—his eyes had been riveted to the ring since Malick had dropped it in his palm, and now he was slowly inching his foot away from Malick, the ring held in white-tipped fingers and face screwed up in skeptical hope. A long, bracing breath preceded the complete removal of contact, and Fen's eyes shut tight as he went still, breath held. Samin wasn't the only one staring; Malick and Shig had both turned to watch, their expressions remarkably similar—hopeful but nearly as cautious as Fen's own.