Wolf's-own: Weregild (7 page)

"Quiet.” Fen choked on a groan. “I don't want him here,” he whispered. “
Please.
” With a shudder, he buried his face in Malick's shoulder as they sank to the mattress, burrowed close in a way that was almost touching, but mostly unnerving. It was so un-
Fen
-like.

"Here, drink this,” Umeia said, then she held the bowl to Fen's lips until he turned his head, eyes still shut, and let her pour the tea down his throat.

"What's in that?” Joori asked, all suspicion and anxious bravado.

Shaking her head, Umeia turned, looked Joori up and down—heavens, but he did look like his brother, especially with that glare burning holes in Malick—then pinched at the bridge of her nose.

She only had secondhand knowledge of what had gone on tonight, but she'd heard enough, and now she'd seen enough. With a heavy sigh, she left Fen to Malick and stepped over to Joori, caught his fiery gaze, and made her own as nonjudgmental as she could manage toward someone who'd just spat poison at her brother and all but accused her of drugging Fen for purposes all too clear. Then again, if she'd suspected that someone was doing to Malick what this one obviously thought Malick was doing to Fen....

"He doesn't want you to see him like this,” Umeia told Joori quietly. “It isn't that he doesn't love you—it's that he does."

Joori's jaw clenched tight, and he jerked his chin at Malick. “But he doesn't mind
him
seeing him like—?"

"Malick can make it quiet for him.” Umeia kept her voice low and patient. “Understand?
Quiet
.” She paused as Joori's face wrenched into something pained and close to resentful. “After whatever went on tonight,” she continued more gently, “I think he'll take anything that comes along with the quiet. Wouldn't you?” She took a step in closer, lowered her voice even further. “He's clinging to the edge by his fingernails, lad.” And the gods help them all if he lost his grip, because Umeia was sure it wouldn't be pretty—it wasn't pretty now. Good job they'd thought to take his weapons away.

"He—” Joori's eyes filled, and he blinked, looked away from his brother, and turned his gaze slowly to Umeia again. He leaned in, nearly whispering, “Please—what does he make him
pay
for it?"

She could have smacked him. She could have hugged him. She rolled her eyes. “Just because he lives in a whorehouse,” she said evenly, “doesn't mean he
is
one. Or that anyone expects him to be. Save your worry for someone who needs worrying about."

Joori's mouth tightened. “Have you
met
my brother?"

Umeia didn't answer, only turned an almost-thwack into a pat on his cheek and gave Samin a nod. “Let him go. He'll behave.” A narrow glare at Joori. “
Won't
you, lad?"

With a look that wasn't entirely unpleasant but mostly was, Joori shrugged out of Samin's grip, stared at Umeia for a moment, like he was thinking about saying something, then just shook his head and pushed past her toward the bed. Ignoring Malick's wary glance—which was not, again to Umeia's surprise, the least bit victorious—Joori crouched down. He grimaced at the mess that was Fen's right leg then peered up at his brother's face.

"Jacin.” When Fen only shook his head, Joori reached up, hands coming up to either side of Fen's face, turning his head and holding him still. He leaned in until they were brow to brow. “Jacin. Look at me."

Fen's own hand rose, shaky and tentative, and he laid it to Joori's arm. “Sorry, I'm
sorry
.” Pushed out on a strangled whisper.

"Stop it,” Joori said. “Look at me.” It took a moment, but Fen eventually did as his brother asked, tears spilling out the corners of his eyes the second he opened them. “I won't look, if you don't want me to see.” Joori's tone was soft, artless. “But you're my hero, Jacin. You always have been. Don't you know that?"

It was sweet. It was touching. And still, it made Umeia's teeth clench. Couldn't the lad see he was just making it worse? Couldn't he see his brother was already under too much pressure to rescue... well, everyone he loved? And now Joori wanted to go and wrap “hero” around his neck?

"You're the other half of me,” Joori went on. “You're my heart. I could
never, ever
see whatever it is you see when you look at yourself.” His voice went wobbly, and now his eyes were leaking too. “Don't make me lose you so soon after I got you back."

Fen murmured something Umeia didn't quite catch, but it sounded too close to, “I'm already lost,” so she pretended she hadn't heard it at all.

Joori must have heard it, though, because he winced then pushed himself back, stood, and swiped at his face with the crook of his elbow. Jaw set again, he directed a level look at Malick for a long, long moment, hands fisting then flexing as Malick merely looked back. No smugness, no challenge—nothing at all but steady resolve and confidence as Fen wilted into him again, shutting his eyes and shuddering quietly. The xsinzaua was kicking in, thank all the gods. With a deep breath, Joori dragged his glance away, shot it quickly around the room, nodded to Umeia, and left.

Silence lurched into the room, uncomfortable, until Umeia shook herself and peered at Samin, then jerked her chin. Without a word, Samin left, too, casting one last look at the bed as he pulled the door shut.

Malick gave Fen a careful jostle, sighing a little when Fen didn't so much as twitch in response. “He's out,” he said quietly.

Good.

"All right, then,” Umeia sighed. “If we're done with the melodrama, let's see what we're dealing with. I'll get the boots, you get the shirt.” She shook her head in dismay as Malick laid Fen out on the bed and she looked him over, taking in all the tears in wet fabric and the no doubt gory wounds waiting for her to uncover. “We'd better just cut off the trousers. Honestly, Malick, what were you thinking?"

Malick's mouth tightened as he sliced through the ties on the tunic that had started the whole mess. “I was thinking he'd been manipulated enough."

"Lovely,” Umeia retorted sourly and braced herself to tug the un-mangled boot off. “And trying to manipulate him into coming ‘round to your way of thinking never once occurred to you, I'm sure, what with your motivations being all pure and innocent."

"His father
sold
him, Umeia.” Angrier than Umeia would have guessed, the statement pushed out through his teeth and caustic, hands pausing on Fen's chest and curling into fists. “Sold him to fucking Asai when he was still a child. Now, if you want to tell me
Asai's
motivations are pure and innocent, and Wolf would approve, I'll be happy to—"

"And you're going to tell me that indulging his every whim—even the ones that might kill him—has nothing whatever to do with trying to gain his trust for yourself? You're going to tell me that you didn't basically sneak him out tonight under my nose because you knew he was in bad shape and I wouldn't allow it if I knew? You're going to tell me you don't plan to use and manipulate him and his brother, and those children, if you have to, just as much as As—"

"
Do not
put me in the same sentence with Asai,” Malick seethed. “I've got shit choices here, Umeia, but at least I don't dress up what I do with lies of salvation and promises I don't intend to keep. I haven't asked of him anything he didn't intend to do anyway, and I won't promise him anything I'm not damned sure I can give him. I can't help that Fen is the best chance I've got of getting Asai,
I
didn't do this to him, and I'm certainly not going to watch while he goes to the suns for
that
son of a bitch. Fucking
manipulation
. You want to talk about manipulation—"

"All right, all right, calm down.” Bloody hell, he was in deep, thrashing and telling himself he wasn't all the way down. Umeia shook her head. “Maybe he will take care of Asai for you. But, Mal... it won't solve all his... problems. And I cannot allow you to use those children. I've sworn. I'll fight you, if you make me."

She would too. Because drawing Asai out before he was ready, holding out as bait the very leverage they all knew he needed, was exactly the sort of thing Malick would do, what he probably should do, and what she should let him do. But he'd brought Fen to her for a reason, and maybe he hadn't known what that reason was—probably still didn't know—but Umeia understood it, and better than she had that night when she'd blithely sworn oath, all too confident then that she'd known exactly what she was doing. She wasn't just precautionary protection for Fen's siblings. She was the empress, hunching on her square of the chensuboard, shielding her pawns as both Malick and Asai maneuvered the rest of the board around them. Malick had wanted her there to protect them all from himself, just as much as from Asai. To protect his own soul and prevent him from straying too far from Wolf while he wended through what was to come. It was a difficult thing, removing oneself from mortal wants and concerns, while still maintaining in one's heart those things that kept one from becoming... well, Asai. Or even Husao. Malick had been trying to find that balance for far too long, and even when he tried to turn himself into something cool and callous, he still ended up on the heart-hungry side.

Wolf smiled on her little brother—oh yes, surely, the aloof prick—because Malick bloody
suffered
for what he was, and suffered harder when he tried to be something else.

No wonder he and Skel had understood each other so well. No wonder people threw themselves at him. No wonder broken hearts dogged his steps. How could you not adore someone who loved you a little bit merely for existing?

Umeia sighed. “Sometimes I wish you really were the ass you pretend to be, little brother."

Malick only clenched his teeth and started moving again. “We can't stay here for long,” he said, eyes on his hands as he maneuvered Fen out of the tunic, pausing to shake his head and growl at the bloody, twisted flesh of his forearm—that was going to need sutures too, damn it—then dragged him out of the layer of mail beneath the shirt. “It's only a matter of time before Asai finds me. And when he finds me, he finds you and everyone else. They were after his brother tonight. I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that Asai plans to use him to blackmail Fen into doing what he wants, and he won't stop coming after him, even if he has to tear down the Girou around us. Or, more likely, pay someone else to do it for him. Fucking prick, he never has stooped to doing his own wet work.” Malick paused, shoulders hunching a little, the muscles of his back heaving with two long, deep breaths, but he still didn't look up. “I'm sorry."

"Save ‘sorry’ for when I ask for it,” Umeia told him as she dropped Fen's boot to the floor and went for the other. “Cut that trouser leg right up the center. We'll talk about the rest in the morning."

Because she'd be damned if she'd let Asai, of all people, drive her out of the home they'd made, or harm the people who made up their family. It had been too long since they'd had one. And she wasn't about to argue with her obstinate brother over it now.

Anyway, with what she saw when she finally got a look at Fen's leg, they likely wouldn't be going anywhere for a while. Umeia stepped back, hands on her hips. “Go get my bag off the clothespress,” she told Malick wearily.

She had work to do here, a duckling to tend.

Asai could just fuck off for now.

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It had been the briefest, tiniest of glimpses, but it had been... almost enough. A flash of potential, all in a smeary whirl—more like glimpses of images, really, and far too much cryptic symbology—but it had been enough to see that the Wheels were still turning. Fate was lumbering forward.

Strangely, it all seemed to flower outward from the little one, not from the twin, as he'd rather expected, but youth did burn brightest in his general experience. Jacin-rei's little sister was burning like the last gasp of a dying star. Asai frowned at the metaphor. He had a bit of a soft spot for mortal youth—they were such fascinating little portents, even the ones without magic, their fundamental
belief
in all things splaying them open like porous possibility—and he'd truly hate to see Jacin-rei lose more than he had to. Still, the boy might well make it necessary to take a ruthless step or two. Asai would debate the value of laying the responsibility at Jacin-rei's feet later, after Fate had set the Cycle, when Asai was better able to gauge the feasibility of keeping his Ghost. Guilt was always an efficient tool, when it came to Jacin-rei, but there was such a thing as too much of a good thing. Asai was going to have to be very careful when Jacin-rei found his way back to his beishin.

Still, he'd had his glimpse, he knew now, knew the who, the what and the where—
on his own lands
, for pity's sake; he could weep at the frustrating irony, in his reach all that time, and he hadn't seen it—but he couldn't help the frisson of unease that curled up his backbone. He needed
Temshiel
, certainly, but he hadn't counted on Kamen. In fact, Asai had rather thought Kamen had retreated to spirit after... well. And Asai certainly hadn't counted on the Catalyst's
Temshiel
being one of Wolf's-own. It could complicate matters beyond repair if Asai wasn't extraordinarily careful, and there wasn't time to start again. There was less than a decade left in the Cycle, and he saw no possibilities in any of the other pitiable Untouchables—whether born or as yet unborn—fated to be crushed in the Wheels before the Cycle was through. Not a true Catalyst among them. It was, and had always been, Jacin-rei who held the Balance.

Damn, damn,
damn
the boy for slipping his traces before Asai had set his course.

"Seyh?” Vonshi knocked softly on the jamb of the open door and entered the study with his head bowed in apology. “She will not leave, seyh. She insists she must see you."

Damn. He'd rather thought she wouldn't take,
Lord Asai is abed, come back tomorrow
, for an answer, but he'd hoped. He knew what he needed to know, and he saw no real reason to listen to her tell it to him. He'd caught the “where” from the little one, but the “who” came directly from Leu not an hour after she'd gone to collect her thugs. Asai had known she failed before she'd even crossed onto his lands.