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  "What idea is that? Worry furrowed her corpulent face.

  "They will think I love you. I don't love you, Beth. I own you. He gave her left nipple a savage pinch.

  Her eyes teared up. Yes, Malthus. I know that."

  "I want to move my sheeling to a more private corner of your holdings. That is where I want to build my house."

  Beth swallowed and nodded. Whatever you wish."

  "Good. I have some friends coming. You will obey them as you do me. Without question."

  "Friends?"

  "You know what I mean. Malthus could feel her trying to resist him and squeezed her thoughts into a painful bundle, dragging up the worst memories in her mind to hurt her with.

  Beth cried out and clutched her head.

  Malthus lunged deeper into her psyche and drove a nail of force through it.

  "I'll obey, she gasped.

  "You will lie for me. You will kill, if I ask."

  Beth cringed. I will. I will."

  "My lieutenant, Egidius, is bringing an army into your valley from the north. I'm going to butcher your males and enslave your females. He spoke sharply, provoking her reactions in order to pierce her defenses. Malthus continued to stick, stitch, tie, and knot.

  Beth's eyes glazed over and she slumped forward. Malthus shoved her onto her back. Her flesh jiggled distastefully. Malthus could not understand why Egidius preferred females like Beth.

  "You will betray your people to me, Beth. Repeat that."

  Her mouth twisted and she broke out in a cold sweat as she struggled to resist him. Sensing that Beth might scream, Malthus touched one finger to the hollow of her throat to stifle her noises. Beth clutched at her neck, eyes saucering.

  "No, she croaked, unable to raise her voice any louder.

  Malthus rotated the arcane blade of his power in her mind.

  Beth tried to shriek as she folded over her hands, trembling, her face gone white from the agony of his intrusion.

  "Say it, Beth."

  "I will ... betray my ... people."

  "I want Merissa. You will not interfere with that."

  Beth shuddered. I will not interfere."

  Malthus climbed onto Beth and bit her. He had barely begun to use Beth, when Ros arrived. She stood for a moment, watching them, licking her fangs, and then joined them on the bed, biting deeply into Beth's leg.

  * * * *

  Near the rear of the gardens, in the southeastern corner of the manor grounds lay the Redhand family graveyard. Short hedgerows lined the sides and back. A rose arbor marked the entrance down a path lined with oaks. Rather than the open spaces that most humans preferred as a place of burial, lycans, especially the upper classes, preferred to clutter them up with trees, bushes, hedges, and flower beds, arranging their graves in sheltered rows. Until three generations ago, the Redhands had burned their dead, burying the ashes in small urns and planting a shrub over it.

  Kynyr sat cross-legged beside the grave of Tarrant Redhand. He laid the flowers he had picked upon the grave. Cahira Maguire sends her love, Tarrant. She's never forgotten you."

  He had been coming here roughly every seven days on the first day that the moon changed for the four years that he had worked for the Redhands. Kynyr picked times when no one would see him steal into the cemetery lest they ask questions he dared not answer.

  There were only four graves: that of Suleahan and SorchaClaw's parentsand those of Claw's twin sons, Tarrant and Logan. He knew the story of Tarrant and Logan well. Most of it he had heard from his grandmother, Cahira. Others had supplied more pieces and the image of Tarrant Redhand grew to heroic proportions with every telling.

  The Lycan Rebellion had taken place nearly eighty years ago. For three long years the lycans held against the forces of the sa'necari while trying to persuade both Creeya and Shaurone to come to their aid. Claw's sons had ridden with soldiers to the support of Clan Silverpaw. A series of sa'necari ambushes resulted in the capture of his sons and his wife, Aisha, within two weeks of each other.

  Logan and Tarrant were rited for treason, and Claw had been forced to watch their executions with Aisha held hostage to his cooperation. His sons mutilated bodies were dumped in front of him after the sa'necari finished with them. He and Aisha were allowed to take their remains home and bury them in the family cemetery. Most folks agreed that Claw had never been the same afterward.

  Kynyr said a prayer for the dead and rose, beating at his pants to get the dirt off them. I'm keeping my promise, Gram."

  He headed back into the gardens and spied Malthus talking to Merissa. It sent a shiver along his spine for reasons he could not identify. Kynyr faded into the shadows of a clump of trees and waited for Malthus to leave before emerging into the open.

  Kynyr found Merissa sitting in the Great Hall at the spinning wheel while Darmyk played at her feet with a set of toy soldiers carved from an assortment of wood.

  He paused to ruffle Darmyk's head and then walked around behind the spinning wheel rather than have it standing like a rampart between himself and Merissa. Who were you talking to?"

  "Malthus Estrobian. He's new here."

  "Yes, I know he's new. What was he doing in the garden?"

  Merissa glared at him. None of your business."

  Kynyr sucked in a breath and held his temper. Claw had allowed him a great many privileges over the past two years and Kynyr had no intentions of spoiling it. He's only been here two weeks and he's already sitting in the garden with you?"

  "The children were there. No liberties were taken. What harm could there be?"

  "These are dangerous times. Your father doesn't want you seeing strange males."

  "My father or you?"

  "Both."

  "Jealous?"

  "Cautious."

  "You're not my husband, Kynyr. Mind your own business."

  "My business is seeing that you're safe."

  "I was perfectly safe. Kenly was with us. She reached down and stroked the cat's head. Kenly rumbled contentedly and rolled over on his back, batting at Merissa's hand.

  "We know almost nothing about this Malthus. Caution is justified."

  "Stop being so possessive, Kynyr. You don't own me yet."

  An explosive sigh burst from Kynyr's lungs. I'm not courting you. I don't intend to court you."

  "You wouldn't know that to listen to my father. Merissa turned away from him with a flounce that made her long ginger hair bounce around her shoulders.

  Kynyr found that he could not argue with that. He had been unable to avoid noticing the way Claw had seemed to shove them at each other ever since the news had come that Merissa's lover, Isranon, had been taken as a bloodslave by Anksha the Beast two years ago. Lycans were taught from the cradle to fear the Beast. That's enough, Merissa."

  "I fully agree. She stood, lifted Darmyk to her hip, and walked out, leaving him standing there alone.

  Kynyr scratched at his whiskers, muttering under his breath. I thought I knew bitches, but I guess I don't."

  * * * *

  Shalto and Oswyl helped Malthus move his sheeling to the secluded spot he had chosen for his home. Afterward, with two young myn in tow, Malthus went to see the blacksmith to replace his sword. A wide variety of fine blades and tools hung upon pegs on the far wall.

  "What do you want? the smith's assistance asked, emerging from a sheltered corner of the smithy. He eyed Malthus, measuring him in a suspicious manner. Not all of the lycans felt comfortable with the influx of non-lycan newcomers.

  "Loosen up, Torquil, said Shalto. He lost his fighting to reach here."

  "What do you know about swords, human?"

  "I was kandoyarin, Malthus replied, walking to the wall and examining their wares. He unfastened his sheath from his shoulder and turned, extending it to Torquil. Something that fits this?"

  Torquil looked at the battered leather and nodded. Broadsword. Interesting choice."

  "Popular on the coast."

  "And in Shaurone."

  Malt
hus raised an eyebrow at Torquil's suspicious tone. Have you been beyond the borders of this valley?"

  "No. But the battle-clans"

  Malthus cut him off. Then don't question my choices."

  Torquil shrugged. We might have something. You have gold?"

  Malthus brought several coins from his pouch and extended them to Torquil.

  Torquil tucked the sheath under his arm and took the coins. Sharani ten-dolu pieces. You've gotten around a bit."

  "I told you, I was kandoyarin until a few weeks ago when I came home."

  Torquil took a blade down from the wall and handed it to Malthus to inspect. The steel was very well made, supple, and yet strong. It would not break easy.

  Malthus slid it into the sheath and noted the fit. He paid for it. You should have a drink with us sometime, Torquil, he told him. Shouldn't he, Shalto?"

  Shalto grinned. Yeah. Malthus here likes to buy and he tells great stories. I think I'd like to be a kandoyarin someday."

  "I've met many lycans working for them, but you need to be able to handle a blade, Malthus said.

  "Would you teach me? Shalto asked.

  "Certainly. I'd be glad to."

  Torquil laughed, with a trace of skepticism. I'll have to stop by with a pair of practice blades, human, and see what you can do."

  "By all means ... do so."

  As Malthus and his companions emerged, they saw Nikko and Tempest watching them from across the street. A small, fuzzy dog frolicked around them, returning again and again with a stick in his mouth, begging for Tempest or Nikko to toss it. Malthus snarled inwardly. Sooner or later they would misstep and he would eat them.

  * * * *

  Nikko knelt and patted Moss, took the stick from his mouth and tossed it toward some trees on the Common. Moss darted after the stick, barking with simple joy. Nikko glanced up at Tempest and straightened, brushing his dark brown robes off. He knows we're watching him."

  "It'll keep him on his best behavior."

  "You know he's sleeping with Beth?"

  The lines deepened to crevices across Tempest's face as he frowned. I hadn't known. How long has he been here?"

  "Two weeks."

  "And he's already... Tempest made a distasteful face, clearly looking for a polite euphemism. Beth is a gentle, impressionable bitch."

  Nikko nodded and bent down again as Moss pranced up with the stick in his hairy mouth. The lawgiver tossed the stick farther this time. She's lonely. You've said it yourself enough times."

  "Better alone than with the wrong mon. Tempest sighed and ran a hand through his gray mane, working his fingers through the tangles. How long has it been going on?"

  "According to Rory Scott, since his first night here. Rory and Hamish have been spying on them. So have the Hansley cubs."

  "Have you spoken to their parents?"

  "I threatened to. They haven't come round the Camp since then."

  "Lawgiver. Your holiness. Kynyr Maguire sauntered up, followed by Finn and Ramsey.

  Finn grinned at them, his thumbs hooked into his belt. Did I hear you say someone was slipping the bone into Old Beth?"

  Ramsey struggled to repress a snicker, and it escaped as a snort.

  Tempest scowled as Cullen sauntered up to them with his hands resting on his fighting knives. If I'd known old Beth wanted some, I'd've already been to see her."

  "You are a slut, Cullen Blackwood. Tempest's lips tightened with disapproval. You should be dipped in tar and feathered."

  Cullen shrugged. It's been tried, priest."

  Nikko gave Moss a hand signal to sit next to them. That newcomer, Malthus Estrobian."

  Kynyr's expression hardened. Every day for the past three, he's shown up at the manor gardens to walk with Merissa."

  "I'll talk to him, said Tempest.

  "If you don't, I will. And I promise it won't be pretty. Kynyr's hands settled on the long fighting knives that rode at his hips.

  "Who made you the defender of bitches virtue? Cullen muscled in between Ramsey and Finn.

  Kynyr gave Cullen a quiet glance that still managed to tell him he was trying to piss on the wrong tree.

  "You better be as good as you think you are, boy."

  "I am."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SLUT

  Kynyr Maguire sat on his bed in the barracks, oiling his long knives. His broadsword rested on a weapons rack built onto the wall beside the bed. A nightstand sat to the opposite side and a large chest at the foot. Forty beds identical to Kynyr's, each with their own nightstand and weapons racks, filled the room. Five rooms like this one fanned out along the barracks wing of the manor. Claw had two hundred guardsmyn, not counting the officers who had private quarters on the second floor. Kynyr had turned down Claw's offers of a private suite for over a year, because he did not have the rank to justify it in the eyes of the rank and file, many of whom were already referring to him as Old Claw's pretty boy."

  Kynyr found his good looks to be more often a source of discomfort and complications, than the asset the others seemed to think they were. Every time one of the dogs caught him talking to a young bitch, the innuendos started. If he'd gotten his cock into every female the rumors claimed he had, Kynyr would have had more bedmates than he had years of age. The talk, which had been amusing at one point, had become an aggravation, and for the past year he had not touched a bitch because he did not want to deal with the barracks repercussions. Before that he had ridden into Hell's Widow from time to time for a night with the whoresuntil he encountered Belgair and some others among the older wolves of the guard doing the same and they had made him squirm for months over it.

  Chieftain Claw Redhand's guardsmyn did more than soldiering. In a culture where farming predominated, they also rode herd on the manor's horses, cattle, sheep, and goats; fixed fences and repaired walls; patrolled the roads around Wolffgard Village; guarded the bridge over the Eirlys Cataract that formed the western border of Clan Red Wolf Valley; and guarded the manor itself and its inhabitants.

  The guardsmyn's training was crude but effective, just a matter of filing the rough edges off whatever they had been taught growing up by their fathers and older brothers. When Kynyr signed up with the guards, his only problem had been concealing how good he was with any weapon they put in his hands. The last thing he had wanted to do was to attract unwanted attention and awkward questions.

  Finn MacIver dropped onto Kynyr's bed with a cheeky grin, folded his hands behind his head, and reclined. We get a day off and you spend it with your blades! If you don't come along now, Ramsey and I are for leaving without you."

  Kynyr shammed ignoring his friend, gave his blades one more wipe and sheathed them. He stood and walked off.

  "Hey, I'm talking to you. Finn fell into step beside him, caught the glint of mischief in Kynyr's eyes, and backed away. I'm going to the Difficult Horse with Ramsey and Eideard. You coming?"

  The left corner of Kynyr's mouth quirked. Yeah. So I can dunk you in the horse trough for nagging at me all day."

  Finn's lips twitched into an uncertain grin. It's cold, Kynyr. If you're going to dunk me, can't it wait until summer?"

  Kynyr snickered. If it's not hot enough for you yet, I don't know what is."

  They had grown up together, two only sons with an overabundance of sisters, living on neighboring farms with a small creek between them. Finn had been allowed to train with Kynyr's armsmaster so that the cub would have someone his own age to practice with, and it was only much later that Finn began to wonder how the son of an herb farmer, who taught school half a day on the side to make ends meet, and a small-time country healer could afford to pay a battle-clan veteran like Todd Sinclair to teach their son. Many things about Kynyr Maguire did not add up once Finn began to seriously think about them, but Finn kept his mouth shut about it both to Kynyr and the outside world. Kynyr's business was Kynyr's only, and Finn prided himself on not being a gossip. They had been friends, loving each other like brothers, since their earliest mem
ories, united against the dreaded female hordes that assailed them at every opportunityotherwise known as Kynyr's six sisters and Finn's eight.

  Kynyr signed up with the Redhands first and Finn showed up a month later to do the same.

  He headed for the door into the yard with Finn at his heels. It had been four days since he had gone into the village. The last time he saw Tempest, the priest had persuaded a promise out of Kynyr to let him speak to Malthus first. So, rather than be tempted, Kynyr had kept to the manor. Not that opportunities had not presented themselves here. Every afternoon, Malthus showed up with his nieces and visited with Merissa while the children played together. The presence of the children kept Kynyr in line around Malthus: he did not trust himself not to grab Malthus by the throat and shake him, so Kynyr cut a wide berth around him.

  Kynyr ran all of that through his thoughts again as he strode around to the front courtyard where Ramsey and Eideard waited for them. Malthus was in Wolffgard on Claw's forbearance and Kynyr did not intend to see that generosity abused by a lecher who had apparently developed an appetite for Merissa. Nor did Kynyr wish to see Merissa hurt again. Kynyr had thought Isranon to be a good mon, as sa'necari went, until he abandoned Merissa shortly after getting her with child. Kynyr had had to fight down an urge to go after Isranon and beat his head into pulp every time he looked at Merissa's swollen belly. An undercurrent of sorrow had clung to Merissa since Isranon left; and it disturbed Kynyr to see it.

  If Malthus touches you, I'm going to bust his head.

  "Want some company? Cullen trotted up to them.

  Kynyr glanced at his friends and got a round of shrugs from them. Sure."

  As they entered the Difficult Horse, Hereward spotted Cullen and came stomping toward them, shaking his thick finger at the courier. You keep your bloody paws off my bitches. You hear me?"

  "I only come for a drink. Cullen glared at Hereward.

  The tavern master turned to Kynyr. You keep him in line, Kynyr. Or I'll toss you all out."

  "Sure. As soon as Hereward headed for the bar, Kynyr turned to Cullen, his lips pursed in bemusement, guessing why the short lycan wanted their company. Which one did he catch you with?"