Wolf's-own: Weregild (44 page)

"Don't care, really,” Kamen said. “It's your quarrel, your choice."

Jacin-rei peered over at Xari, jerked his chin. “What about her?"

"Xari?” Kamen's arm tightened around her shoulders, and he grinned. “Aw, she only wants what's best for
you
, dontcha know.” The sarcasm all but dripped. “It's up to you. She'll walk out of here and head right to Yakuli, so think about it.” He shook his head and peered down at Xari. If Husao didn't know better, he might have said he saw real regret in Kamen's chiding look. “Wolf would've taken you, y'know, even without your son's blood on your hands. You should have thought this through a little better. You watched Umeia make her mistakes, and then you came right behind her and made them again.” His mouth went thin, cruel. “You're veiled until you leave the Girou, and that's only to protect everyone else, but after you leave here, you're on your own. If Fen doesn't kill you now, I mean."

Jacin-rei turned back to Husao, stared at him for several long, silent moments, then shook his head, lowering his knives. “I was promised by the Mage that the man I wanted would twitch at the end of my blade."

It was all Husao could do not to show his relief. His cautious exhilaration. The blood spatters slowly faded from the edges of his vision, but that was now almost inconsequential.
This
was what he'd been watching for. Husao nodded. “You were."

"I was also told the Mage keeps his promises."

"He does.” Husao tilted his head, shot a look at Xari. “Kamen is right—she will leave here and go to Yakuli, warn him."

Xari's mouth tightened, but she said nothing. And what had she expected? She'd hardly shown Husao any loyalty.

"She won't need to,” Jacin-rei said. He sheathed his knives and began a slow limp toward the door, pausing only long enough to snap up a clump of fabric on the couch beside Husao that resolved itself into a rumpled duster. Jacin-rei dragged it on as he walked away. “I've already made other plans. I don't really expect you to keep your word, but it would be nice."

Kamen blinked, didn't even try to hide his dubious surprise as he said, “What?” He let go of Xari and followed after Jacin-rei. “What plans?” he wanted to know, pressed, “Hey,
Fen
,” and disappeared down the small foyer that led to the hallway. He was only out of sight for a second before he returned. “Either of you touches the earth-bound, and I'll do to you what Fen did to Asai, and damn the suns.” He pointed at Xari. “You—run away. I see you again, you die.” Then to Husao as he pointed at the brother, “Keep him here and don't let her touch him,” as though he had the right to make any demands of Husao, and then he was gone again

Husao was left with the earth-bound and Xari. Both Husao and Jacin-rei's brother merely watched as Xari backed away from them with a cagey look then lifted her chin and faded to shadow. Husao turned to peer back at the door, but the brother shifted a flat look on him, kept it there. Husao gazed back at him levelly, expecting to be compelled to sit through an indignant defense of his brother, perhaps, or acidic vitriol for manipulating him and his family.

The boy only shook his head, curled his lip. “Fucking
Temshiel
,” was all he said.

"Fen, damn it, hold up!"

How, Malick wondered, could the man still move so fast, when he was making an obvious effort not to limp? He only caught up relatively quickly because of the inevitability of the stairs slowing Fen down a touch. Malick took hold of Fen's arm through the sleeve of the duster, and debated making a point of mentioning that it was the only one he had left, since Fen had gotten the other one sliced up. Instead, he merely held on as Fen navigated down the first step, surprised when Fen let him.

"What other plans?” Malick demanded. When Fen had left the baths, he hadn't seemed capable of even thinking straight, let alone planning, and Malick could only wince at the multitude of “plans” that might have presented themselves to one so grieved and muddled.

Then again, Fen had been awfully damned controlled with what had just happened in Malick's sitting room. He'd been more than controlled—he'd been almost irresistible in his calm threats and clever maneuvering of both
Temshiel
and maijin, directing the questioning perfectly to gain the closest thing to the truth either Xari or Husao would give, and then deciphering yet more truth out of the lies and the things they wouldn't say. Malick had been semi-hard since Fen had drawn his knives, and had been wondering just how sick and callous it would be if he shoved everyone else out the door, even if it would have been for nothing more than a quick cuddle or an intimate look. Until Fen had abruptly left the room and headed downstairs.

Whoa, wait a minute— “Hey, what are you doing going downstairs?” Malick hitched up on the second step and held fast to Fen to make sure he did too. He didn't necessarily care to ask Husao to adjust the memories of all those people down there again, and there was no way he was asking Shig. “Fen, talk to me. What's going on?"

Fen tugged a little at his arm, but when Malick didn't let go, he seemed to consider his own chancy balance, weigh a tumble down the steps against all the other injuries... sighed. He turned to Malick, no longer hazy-eyed and tottering on the edge, but clear and calm, gray eyes like twin lakes on a winter's night, flecked with the phantoms of amber stars.

"I told you before,” Fen said. “I'm tired of things happening
to
me. If I can't get them out, I'm not going to sit here and wait for someone to take them. You keep saying you want to help me, but you want to keep Joori here because insane ghosts told you he's a key. You can't help me get Yakuli because some god who's not even yours says you can't. Fine. I understand. I don't even fault you for it. Your laws are not the same as mine, but it works both ways."

Malick had to stare. It was so strange—he'd barely been able to get two sentences at a time out of Fen before, and now, when Malick had honestly been expecting to have to drag Fen out from inside himself at least once an hour, he was suddenly the village crier. And he could barely even speak, his voice was so hoarse.

"Both ways how?” Malick asked carefully.

"I don't have the same power as you,” Fen told him, “but I also don't have the same restrictions. And I've a city full of people who still believe in Untouchables enough to keep shrines and obey the laws concerning them. My kind were the Ancestors’ Voices once."

He tugged his arm out of Malick's grip. Malick just let him go, watching as Fen took hold of the railing and began making his way down the stair again. That last sentence might have been cryptic, if Fen had said it to someone else. Malick was very much afraid he understood exactly what it meant.

"Fen.” He took the three steps down Fen had managed then took another and angled himself into a blockade. “Fen. Tell me you don't plan to announce yourself to the Courts and try to have Yakuli arrested. Because I've gotta tell you—that's a really terrible plan."

"All right,” Fen answered. “I don't plan to announce myself to the Courts and try to have Yakuli arrested."

Malick's mouth tightened, and his teeth clenched. “And is that the truth?"

Because one had to be very clear, when it came to Fen.

"Yes, it's the truth."

"All right.” Malick leaned his shoulder into the wall, narrowed his eyes. “So, what
are
you planning?"

Fen stared at him for a long time, measuring, maybe, but Malick couldn't tell. It was intense, anyway—more intense than he'd thought Fen capable—and he was caught between being uncomfortable beneath that close concentration and being overjoyed that Fen had found it again. Malick really had worried.

"You're really not like them, y'know.” Fen shrugged when Malick tilted his head, and he pitched a vague wave over his shoulder. “Husao and Xari. Even Umeia. You're not like them. You plot too much, and you manipulate when most of the time all you have to do is ask, but... you could've been a lot worse, I guess."

Malick had no idea if he should be pleased or insulted. And he wasn't about to be distracted. “Fen—"

"I saw you grieve for those you love, which means you can. It surprised me.” Another shrug. “And I see the disgust every time Yakuli comes up. I think you really do want to stop him."

That one made Malick glower. “Well, of
course
I do, I wouldn't—"

"Shig says you'd give up your soul for me."

Malick blinked, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. “...Sorry?"

Would he?

He shook his head, scowled. No, of course not.

Wait, would he?

"I don't want that,” Fen said. “I don't want your oath. I don't want anything but what you've already sworn to Joori and Morin. Let the woman do what she will. Don't let anything happen to my brothers. Leave Yakuli to me."

All right, that
really
didn't sound good. “What are you planning, Fen?” Malick asked quietly.

"I'm planning to be a Catalyst,” Fen told him, too calm, too cool. “I'm going to be Untouchable. I'm going to see who dares to touch me."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Malick was a little disturbed that it had come out so high-pitched, but right now, it was hardly even worth noticing.

Fen only shook his head, prodded Malick backward until he had no choice but to move out of the way or flip ass over elbow down the steps. “Honestly,” Fen said as he strode down one step then two, “I would have thought a
Temshiel
would recognize a simple plot when he saw one."

"Maybe I'm dim,” Malick growled, keeping pace. “Humor me."

Fen stopped, turned slowly to Malick, his eyes gone avid, a little bit scary, and his mouth turned up in a smile Malick had never seen before—sly and cold and just one shade shy of creepy. He leaned in, right up close. “He's still here."

Malick's eyes narrowed and his stomach dropped and went cold. “Who, Fen?"

"He's not bound to the earth. He's bound to me.” It should have been impossible for so much fear and desperation to come through in a voice that could barely climb above a whisper, but Malick heard it all too clearly. “One more hungry ghost haunting me.” Fen held up his hand, flashed Malick's ring. “Got rid of the Ancestors, and now I've got him. Fucking figures."

Malick leaned back, peered at Fen intently, a little sad that the intermittent clarity and confidence seemed to be coming from a diseased root. And more profoundly disappointed than he might have suspected that Fen's sanity was once again—no, still—in serious question.

"Uh-huh,” Malick said calmly, but with a slight tinge of panic he sent,
Shig! I need you upstairs—right now,
and even managed to smile a little as he did it. At least he thought he did. Everything had gone kind of numb. “And is he the one who made this plan for you, whatever it is?"

Fen snorted, rolled his eyes. “He only ever planned for me to fail.” His eyes filled, and he clenched his jaw against it. “I've had... enough of that."

There wasn't enough time and there weren't enough words to make Fen believe he wasn't what his father and Asai had taught him he was. “Fen,” Malick said through his teeth. “What
plan
?"

Fen leaned down ‘til they were almost nose to nose, snarled, “The same plan I've
always
had! The same plan I had when you mugged me in the alley and then told me I could kill for you or die. The same plan I had when you promised to help me, except you keep. Not.
Doing it
."

"I'm doing it!” Malick protested. “I'm doing it now, today, ask Samin. I've a plan of my own, and if you'll—"

"No, I've had enough of
your
plans,” Fen seethed, and though the look was vicious, Malick was almost pleased to see it—it was better than that blankness or that calm almost-amusement of a moment ago. “The point of a plan is that it should eventually become action. Yours never do. I'm not waiting for you anymore—I'm going to find my mother."

"By yourself?"

"Who else? You can't do it—you go after Yakuli and you risk your soul. I have no gods, and I doubt there's anything worth saving of my soul."

"I know you'd like to think that, but you—"

"Burn your dead,
Kamen.
Joori has agreed to see to Caidi."

Malick's glance shot up the stairs, noted Joori hovering just inside the door to Malick's rooms, peering around the frame. Joori said nothing, but he tipped a subtle nod and made small shooing motions with his hand. Malick's eyebrow went up, and his mouth turned down. “Has he, then.” As bland and even as he could make it. Apparently, there were things Malick had missed and needed to know, and if he couldn't get them out of Fen, he'd get them out of Joori. He looked back at Fen, eyes narrowed. “And you'll be doing what?"

A hard, sharp grin that Malick had never seen before, and rather hoped he'd never see again—it made Fen's eyes go flinty and... empty. Like a dead man's eyes.

"Am I your dog, Kamen?” Fen's throaty voice had gone low, a near-seductive tone to it that made Malick shudder just a little.

A tiny whiff of cherry smoke curled into his nose, and Shig's light touch tendriled at the back of his mind. Malick thought about using her power to see for himself, but told her,
Have a look at Fen—is Asai still here?
instead. He didn't spend nearly as much time with the spirits as she did, and he wanted no mistakes.

A short moment's pause before Shig answered,
No. They can't find him. They never could. Caidi was looking for him, but I sent her to Joori and Morin then guided her to Umeia. They'll all go peacefully when the fire frees them.

Malick blinked, shook his head. There was nothing to say to that, really, or maybe there was too much, so he merely said,
Thank you
, and then he cut her off.

He rubbed at his brow, tried to remember where he'd left off with Fen—
Am I your dog, Kamen?
—and decided there was no reason in the world to answer it less than truthfully. “No,” he said. Because he never had been, really. And the way things had worked out, it seemed Malick was his, rather than the other way around.

Fen leaned down again, very slowly, and brushed his lips over Malick's, gentle and slow and almost tender. Paused when the movement hovered just at the edge of a kiss. “Then stop asking me stupid questions,” he breathed, “and get the fuck
out of my way
."