Wolf's-own: Weregild (27 page)

He lifted his eyes again and looked at each of them in turn. “We're going after Yakuli. We go back tonight. I want to see the place for myself. And once we see, we come back here, and you'll think long and hard about whether or not you really want to do this.” He turned his glance to Samin. “I gave you the chance before. I'm going to give it to you again. Once more. I want no decisions until tomorrow, but once you've made them, there's no going back. Understand?"

They both nodded, Shig finally having lost all of the bounce from before, her gaze solemn. Jacin noticed Malick didn't look at him while making the offer. Jacin was in it until the end, one way or another. Which was exactly where he wanted to be, so he didn't take offense.

"Which way d'you think Yori will jump?” Malick asked Shig reluctantly. He shrugged when Shig snapped a narrow glance to him, offended. “She's always been Umeia's,” Malick said. “I only—"

"No, she hasn't.” Shig's tone held a hint of challenge inside it. “She's mine. She always has been. Just as much as I'm hers. And we all know which way
I'll
jump."

It seemed to be enough for Malick. He gave Shig a small smile and a nod.

"So, when do we go?” Jacin asked into the silence. “I mean... it's only....” He set his jaw. It was too late for sentiment. “My family leaves in the morning. I... I should... see them for a little while."

"You should,” Malick agreed, “and you can see them all night, because you're not going with us."

Jacin's eyebrows snapped down, and his heart picked up pace. “You can't keep me from—"

"Yeah, I can, actually.” It was hard, and colder than Jacin had seen Malick for a while now. He made a visible effort to soften it. “Fen, be reasonable. You can't even walk."

"I can walk! I'm fine.” Well, better, anyway.

"Yeah, ‘fine'.” Malick rolled his eyes. “You're always ‘fine'. And what happens if we get halfway there and you're not ‘fine’ anymore?"

"I've got the dray.” Jacin frowned. “Haven't I?” He couldn't remember. In fact, he had no idea if they'd brought it back to the Girou or if they'd abandoned it outside the Gates.

"A dray would blare our arrival to anyone within a mile, and I can't veil you.” Malick looked sincerely apologetic now. “Anyway, who ever heard of arriving for battle in a dray?"

The wholly inappropriate attempt to lighten the mood a little fell predictably flat. Jacin knocked his glare up a few notches in case Malick tried to pretend not to notice.

Malick sighed. “Fen, think about it. You know it's how it has to be. We couldn't attack tonight, even if you did manage to limp there. There is no way in hell we can get to her until we know exactly what we're up against. I need to see it for myself, because there are things even Shig can't see."

It all made sense. And Jacin hated him for it.

"And what the fuck am I supposed to do?” he snapped. “This is my
mother
! You promised. We made a
deal
—"

"And I'll
keep
it, damn it.” Malick was trying very hard not to be offended, Jacin could tell, and didn't entirely care. “I'm sorry I won't be able to keep it before the others leave, but that's not
your
failure, it's mine. You can face them without hiding this time, all right?"

Jacin flinched. Damn it all, how did he keep...
understanding
like that, when Jacin hadn't even been aware of exactly what he'd been thinking?

"You can be really cold sometimes, Mal,” Shig said, except she nearly chirped it, like she was admiring, rather than chiding.

"Yeah, well, sometimes he needs a kick in the ass,” Malick sighed. “And since he's already beat to shit....” He gave Jacin a bit of a glare that Jacin returned with interest, then he turned to Shig. “Did you get all of what he was saying before written down?"

Jacin winced this time when Shig nodded and retrieved a marked-up slate from the mattress behind her. No one had told him they'd be writing it down, which probably meant they'd be reading it, and he was going to have to
hear
how crazy he'd sounded. It was different when it was happening—he didn't have enough of his mind to know how bad it sounded out loud when he lost hold of it like that, because he was usually too busy trying to keep it in. And now his mind was relatively his own, wreathed in a quiet to which he was getting far too accustomed and far too quickly, and they were going to make him hear it anyway.

At least this time, Malick didn't seem to notice Jacin's internal twists. Malick held out his hand to Shig. “All right, let's have a look and see if we can decode it.” He shifted a quick look up at Samin. “You should probably find someplace comfortable. This'll likely take a while.” And then to Jacin. He held up the slate, waved it between them. “None of it's you. So, stop it."

Jacin glared and sank back into the cushions of the chair.

Damn it, how did he always
know
?

Yori was getting a little sick of playing babysitter. She was getting
really
sick of cooling her heels while the others discussed... whatever they were discussing. And she was getting
bloody
sick and damned tired of playing messenger.

"Another one?” She couldn't help that her tone was likely hostile and churlish. It didn't matter, anyway, because Ragi not only ignored it but topped it.

"It can't wait,” he snapped, standing just below the last step on the attic stairs, not quite daring to broach the attic itself. All the staff and all the help had been threatened with immediate expulsion from the Girou and possible death—depending on Malick's mood—should they trespass, and Ragi was keeping to the letter of the warning, grudgingly, if not entirely the spirit. “I need to see him
now
."

Well, at least it was a little excitement to break up what was otherwise a ridiculously monotonous morning. Not that Yori minded being “stuck” with Joori—even though he'd been annoyingly antsy and short-tempered—but she did sort of mind being “stuck” with Morin and Caidi, because their presence rather ruled out doing anything good to pass the time. They'd played cards—Suns and Moons because it was the only game Caidi could win once in a while—until they couldn't stand to look at them anymore, and then watched the rain until it stopped. In the lull, Morin and Joori had filled the silence by snarking at each other until Yori was ready to bash their heads together, and then did it some more until she actually threatened it. They'd been reduced to nursery songs before Ragi came along, so Yori had to concede that his annoying presence was at least distracting.

Yori's mouth twisted, and she rolled her eyes. “What d'you need
Mal
for, anyway?” she wanted to know. “He's got nothing to do with the bloody kitchens. Go bother Lex or Umeia."

"I don't need Lex or Umeia,” Ragi said, anger on his sour face as always, but there was a strange something else underneath it that, if Yori didn't know better, she'd have pegged as anxiety. What the hell?

"Is the kitchen actually on fire?” Yori asked sarcastically.

Ragi's mouth set tight, and his eyes narrowed. “I need Malick,” he bit out. “
Now
."

Yori's mouth tightened too. Ragi was
so
not the boss of her. “Well, you'll just have to write him another note, because he's not to be disturbed."

Ragi was not a huge man—tall, surely, and sinewy, no wider than Malick, really—but he seemed to expand right in front of Yori as his expression shut down into blank determination, and he braved the last step, took Yori by the arms, lifted her off her feet, and set her to the side. Yori was so stunned she almost didn't gather her wits before he'd started down the hall. Did the man not understand he was imperiously stomping his way right into the middle of a den of assassins?

Then again, no, Yori supposed he didn't.

"Hey!” she snapped, her pace a fast trot as she tried to catch up with Ragi's longer stride. “
Hey
! You can't—"

"
Malick
!"

A bellow, deep and clear, and echoing down the hallway at a tooth-jarring volume. Yori only just got her hand latched onto Ragi's sleeve before he snatched his arm away and opened the first door he came to: Malick's. “
Malick
!"

Bloody hell, if he was going to try going door to door, and if she didn't stop him, he was going to end up seeing Joori and the children, and she couldn't allow that. Damn it all, Joori probably had his ear plastered to the other side of the door, and would end up with a concussion if Ragi threw that one open like he'd just done Malick's. Not for the first time, Yori rued the fact that her weapon of choice wasn't something she could handily tote around in a sheath at her belt or tuck neatly into a boot.

"
Malick
!"

"Ragi, you can't
do
this!” Yori warned. “You're not even supposed to be up here, Mal's going to kill you if you don't—"

"
Malick
!"

Yori was just darting around Ragi, trying to get between him and the next door, which happened to be hers and Shig's, when Fen's door swung open across the hall, and Malick slammed through it, knife in hand and murder on his face. “What the
fuck
is—?” He stopped dead when he saw who it was, brow twisting. “Ragi. What are—?"

"No time,” Ragi cut in, like he hadn't just barged in where he didn't belong and was not barking orders like he had the right. “We have to go."

Malick was shaking his head, too obviously annoyed, but Yori was surprised to see no real anger. “
We
nothing,” he told Ragi. “I'm busy. Tell Hus—” Malick darted a look at Yori and pursed his mouth. “Tell your boss that it'll have to wait."

"It can't,” Ragi snapped back. “Didn't you get my note?"

Yori bristled when he looked at her accusingly, but she didn't have time to retort.

"I got it,” Malick answered. His teeth were clenching, and his eyes were taking on that cool look they got sometimes when he was trying to decide which would be the easiest way to kill a person. “He's
your
boss, not mine. I told you, I'm busy.” With a narrowing of his eyes, he tucked the knife back into its sheath, then opened Fen's door behind him and turned to go back inside. “I'll come when I—"

"Xari says the cards have changed,” Ragi said. Oddly, it sounded to Yori like it had an edge of desperation beneath it.

Maybe it did, because it stopped Malick, made him snap his glance back to Ragi over his shoulder, gaze narrow and burning a little about the edges. “Which cards?” he asked, even but deadly quiet.

Ragi held his gnarled hands palms-up in front of him, a strange twist of helplessness in the gesture. “All of them."

Malick stared at him for far too long, like he could look right through him to bone, then turned an intense look on Yori. “Where's Umeia?"

It was all Yori could do not to take a flinching step backward. She shook her head. “I don't know."

Yori hadn't seen Umeia since before Malick had told her they'd be taking Joori and the others to Heldesan tomorrow. She'd tried—had herself a look about the Girou last night, sent three messages through Lex, and if Umeia had been in her rooms either of the times Yori had knocked on her door, she hadn't chosen to answer.

Yori hated it. Umeia and Malick had obviously had a row, but it wasn't like they hadn't ever had one before, and Umeia had never stayed away from them then. It had only been a couple of days, but Yori missed Umeia, and the whole thing rather worried her.

Malick was still looking at her, his expression perhaps not quite as gritty as it had been a moment ago, a little softer but by no means soft, then he turned his glance to Ragi. “Go. I'll follow shortly."

Ragi shook his head, his jaw set tight. “He said—"

"It's the best answer you're going to get,” Malick snapped. “Give me a fucking minute, will you? Tell him I'll be there within the hour."

Ragi stared, obviously having some internal debate with himself, before he growled with a grudging nod. “Go to Xari's,” he grumbled. He turned a dour look on Yori then back to Malick. “And go veiled.” His usual scowl set firmly back in place, Ragi turned and left, his steps heavy as he made his way down the stairs.

Malick glared at the stairs for a long moment, breathing heavily, too obviously very angry, but it didn't seem to be directed at Ragi. Clenching his teeth on a throttled growl, Malick took a long breath, muttered, “
Shit
,” under his breath, then turned to Yori. He glanced down at her feet and barked, “Go get some shoes on. You're coming with me."

Yori barely had time to gape at Malick before Shig was poking her head out Fen's door. She lifted her eyebrows at Yori for a second, but only gave her a small smile before tugging at Malick's sleeve. “Mal?"

Malick was staring down the stairwell again, distracted, but his fists were curling and uncurling at his sides, and he still hadn't unclenched his jaw. “She has to be told sometime, Shig,” he said quietly. “Everyone's got decisions to make and sides to choose.” He shook his head then turned around to look at Shig. “Do you know what's going on with Umeia?"

Oddly, Shig couldn't seem to hold Malick's stare. She shot another glance at Yori then pointed her gaze to the floor. “I've said my goodbyes,” was all she said.

Yori frowned, but Malick narrowed his eyes. “You want to tell me what that means?"

This time, Shig met Malick's gaze squarely. “What d'you think it means?"

Malick seemed to know, because he growled again. He looked like he wanted to deck Shig, or maybe just whoever happened to be nearest. Instead, he just glared and turned back to Yori. “Shoes,” he snapped. “And get Little Lord Pain-in-the-ass and the others and bring them back here with you."

Yori already had the door to her room open when she heard Malick mutter, presumably to Shig, “Fen's going to fucking kill me,” but Yori didn't stop or look back. If Malick's mood was anything to go by, speed was highly recommended. She'd seen Malick really pissed once or twice, but it was usually because some target hadn't died as quickly and easily as assumed, or he'd lost more at cards downstairs than he thought right and proper. He'd
never
been angry with her. She didn't want to find out what it felt like. She threw open her wardrobe and shoved her feet into stockings and boots, and herself into Shig's waxed duster. Her bow and quiver stood in the back corner, and her hand paused as she reached for them—only briefly—then she followed her instinct and shouldered them.